Nicolas’ POV
Losing always hit louder than winning. It was like there was a constant band in my brain telling me that I was a failure.
The crowd didn’t care that I’d played well for most of the game. It didn’t care about the assists I almost made or the saves I barely missed. It didn’t care about effort or near-misses or the way my lungs burned from giving everything I had.
All it cared about was the scoreboard.
4–3.
The buzzer sounded, slicing through the rink like an insult. The crowd reacted instantly, cheers on one side, groans on the other. I stood frozen for half a second longer than I should have, stick pressed against the ice, helmet heavy on my head.
I hated this feeling.
I hated the hollow drop in my chest, the quiet rage, the voices that always started whispering after a
