Skates & Stones: The Crestwood Elite Hockey Academy Series by Heather C. Myers & Frankie Cardona

Author:Heather C. Myers & Frankie Cardona [Myers, Heather C. & Cardona, Frankie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grey Star Publishing, LLC
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Saturday finally arrived, with an overcast sky trying to squeeze out the last drops of summer. The locker room was buzzing with energy as we geared up, the anticipation palpable in the air. Coach Morgan stood at the front, delivering his usual pre-game speech, but his words felt distant to me, overshadowed by my own thoughts.

"It's preseason, fuckers, so there's no need to be a hero out there," Morgan was saying. "But this is our chance to show what we're fucking made of, to set the tone for the season. Let's show everyone just what the fuck we can goddamn do."

His words resonated with the team, a chorus of agreement and determination rippling through the room. But for me, the game had a different significance. I wondered if Minka was in the stands, if she was watching. The thought of her observing me, seeing me in my element on the ice, added an extra layer of intensity to the game.

As I laced up my skates, my mind was a whirlwind of emotions. I wanted to impress her, to show her just how good I was. Not out of vanity, but as a statement—a declaration that I wasn't my father, that I was my own person, a force to be reckoned with on the ice. That I deserved to be drafted first in the league.

That I earned what I had worked for. Not because of what family I came from or the legacy resting on my shoulders, but because of me.

She couldn’t say that.

She’d never be able to say that.

Stepping onto the ice at Pandora's Box in front of spectators sent a jolt of adrenaline through me. The rink, with its expansive, glistening surface, was more than just an arena; it was a temple of hockey where every game felt like a rite of passage. Tonight, the stands were packed, a buzzing sea of colors and faces, each person sharing in the collective excitement of the game. The energy in the air was electric, a tangible force that fueled my determination and passion.

Above us, banners and flags hung proudly, each a testament to the storied history of this place. Playing here wasn’t just another match; it was an honor, a challenge to rise to the occasion. Around the glass, a few journalists were stationed, their presence underscoring the significance of the game. This was where legends were made and dreams came to life. Every stride on the ice, every play, felt magnified in importance, as if we were not just playing for ourselves but for a place in the rich legacy of the sport.

The second I started to skate on the home end of the ice, a rush of adrenaline surged through me. I was caught up in it, the thrill, the passion, the sheer love of the game. For a moment, everything else faded away—the plans, the anger, the revenge.

The energy of Pandora's Box was electric, feeding into our movements and focus. We started with some light skating, gradually building

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