The Memory: A Jack Hughes Fanfiction

15. Jack

As I step onto the ice, the chill of the rink seeps through my gear, sending a shiver down my spine. The crowd inside the TD Garden roars around me, the cheers of both the Bruins and Devils fans blending into a jarring of excitement. Adrenaline courses through my veins as I glide toward the face-off circle, my skates slicing effortlessly across the smooth surface.

The referee drops the puck with Mcleod and Zacha as the faceoff men, and in an instant, the game is underway. Bodies collide as all of us players fight for control, sticks clacking against sticks in a rhythmic symphony of competition. I push forward, weaving through defenders with calculated precision, my eyes fixed on the goal at the other end of the rink.

Suddenly, the puck comes loose, and I seize the opportunity. With a burst of speed, I streak down the ice, the wind whipping against my face. The goalie Swayman looms large in front of me, a formidable obstacle between me and victory. I fake left, then right, hoping to catch him off guard.

With a swift flick of my wrist, I release the puck, sending it soaring toward the net. Time slows as I watch it sail through the air, every muscle in my body tensed with anticipation. And then, with a satisfying thud, it finds its mark, slipping past the goalie's outstretched glove and into the back of the net.

The crowd erupts in cheers of both dismay from the majority as my teammates rush to congratulate me, their shouts of triumph echoing off the walls of the arena. But there's no time to celebrate just yet. With the game still in progress, I skate back to the bench and yet ready to continue the battle until the final buzzer sounds.

As I stole a glance towards the executive suites, my gaze snagged on Mr. Z, the general manager of the Devil's team. He was huddled over his phone, his expression a jumble of emotions—shock, horror, worry—all mashed together in a way that sent a shiver down my spine. It was like he'd just stumbled upon something he wished he hadn't seen. Instantly, a knot of concern tightened in my stomach, particularly regarding Ash. Why? I couldn't say, but a gut feeling told me something was off, something concerning him.

I tried to shake off the unease with a deep sigh, redirecting my focus back to the game unfolding before me. Despite Nico, our dependable team captain, dissecting our mistakes and offering reminders, my mind struggled to fully engage. It was like my thoughts were stuck in a loop, circling back to the image of Mr. Z's troubled face and the unsettling feeling it stirred within me.

"Go! Go! Go!" Nico's voice pierced through my reverie, snapping me back to the present moment. With renewed determination, I skated back onto the ice, ready to dive back into the action. But the worry lingered, a shadow that loomed over the game like an ominous cloud.

On the third quarter, with the momentum on our side after the goal, our team surges forward, hungry for another opportunity to strike. The puck is back in play, and I dig deep, pushing myself to keep up with the frantic pace of the game.

The opposing team fights back fiercely, launching a relentless offensive assault. Shots ring out, and our goalie Kahkonen stands tall, turning away each attempt with lightning-fast reflexes. But the pressure mounts, and we find ourselves pinned in our own zone, desperately trying to regain control.

I battle along the boards, fighting for possession as bodies crash and stick blades clash. With a burst of determination, I manage to wrestle the puck free and send it sailing down the ice, sparking a race for the breakaway.

Skates pounding against the ice, I streak toward the opposing goal, the roaring crowd fading into a distant blur. McAvoy closes in, but I refuse to be denied. With a final burst of speed, I deke left, then right, leaving him grasping at thin air.

The goalie stands alone, a solitary figure guarding the net. With practiced precision, I unleash a blistering shot, the puck rocketing toward the top corner with unerring accuracy. Time seems to stand still as it flies through the air, every eye in the arena fixated on its path.

And then, with a resounding thud, it finds its mark once again, burying itself in the back of the net with the force of a thunderbolt. The crowd erupts in a deafening roar as my teammates swarm around me, their jubilant shouts echoing off the rafters.

In that moment, as the scoreboard lights up in our favor, I know that all the hard work and sacrifice has been worth it. This is why I play the game – for the thrill of victory, for the camaraderie of teammates, and for the sheer joy of competing on the ice. And as the final buzzer sounds, I skate off the ice with a sense of pride, knowing that I've given my all for the love of the game.

--

After the game, as I sit here in the locker room, the stench of sweat mingling with the scent of victory fills the air. Coach stands before us, a proud grin stretching across his weathered face as he congratulates each player for their efforts on the ice tonight. We've just finished a grueling game, and the thrill of our hard-earned win still pulses through my veins.

But amidst the cheers and high-fives, there's a heavy moment. Coach's voice softens as he announces that Mr. Z won't be addressing us tonight. My heart sinks as he explains that there's been an emergency concerning his daughter Ash and he had to leave in a hurry.

Fuck! What happened to her?

I try to push aside the concern gnawing at me, but it's impossible. You see, I kissed her—we kissed and I know there's something special about it and the thought of something happening to her sends a chill down my spine.

I steal a glance at my teammates, but their faces betray no hint of the turmoil raging inside me. They're focused on the victory, on relishing the moment. But my mind is elsewhere, consumed with worry for her safety.

Coach's voice pulls me back to the present as he wraps up his speech, urging us to celebrate responsibly and reminding us of our upcoming games. But as the locker room empties and the echoes of our triumph fade, I can't shake the feeling of unease that lingers like a shadow over me hoping and praying that whatever emergency has befallen her daughter, she'll be safe.

"Hughes!" Our coach Travis calling my attention right after everyone leaves the locker room.

"Coach!"

"Give Mr. Z a call after you're done here."

"Yes Sir!" I said without asking anymore questions because I know this is all about Ash, I can really sense it.