stick around • matthew schaefer

chapter fifty-eight

matthew's pov.

third round.

conference final.

win this, and we go to the cup.

it's everything we've dreamed of, everything we've fought for.

and it's already trying to tear us apart.

⸻

the florida panthers aren't like the rangers.

they don't play games with chirps or cheap hits.

they just come at you, shift after shift, like a tidal wave of pressure.

speed.
physicality.
no space to breathe.

and from puck drop in game one, it felt like we were drowning.

we were flat.
off our rhythm.
passes too long, coverage too loose.

panthers took an early 2–0 lead.

adrianna and i were paired most of the night, but even that didn't help. we weren't reading each other the way we usually do.
i don't know if it was the noise.
or the pressure.
or maybe...

maybe it was what she told me that morning.

"they offered me a feature. 20 minutes. one-on-one. whole segment on being the first girl to make it this far. national television. live."

i'd smiled at first. meant it.

but later, when i was alone, that smile started to sting.

because i wasn't asked.
and for the first time... i wasn't the one they wanted the camera on.

selfish? probably.

honest? yeah.

⸻

we lost game one, 4–1.

coach tore into us.

and even though no one said it—i could feel it in the locker room.

everyone expected me and adrianna to fix it.

like we were the heartbeat of this team.

and maybe we were.

but that's a heavy thing to carry when your chest already feels tight.

0-1
⸻

game two was better.

we came out with more fire.
adrianna logged two massive blocked shots in the first period alone.
i got a greasy rebound goal in the second.

we held them through three and went to overtime.

and that's when it happened.

the moment that reminded me exactly why we work.