Chapter 28: Performance

Kieran’s POV

The moment the final buzzer sounded, the entire arena exploded. The crowd rose to their feet screaming Crestwood’s name while my teammates crashed into each other on the ice, as we had just won a damn national championship instead of one brutal rivalry game.

Westbridge players looked furious as they skated off the rink.

My chest heaved heavily beneath my gear while Milo practically launched himself at me.

“THAT’S MY CAPTAIN!”

I nearly lost my balance from the impact.

Theo laughed breathlessly nearby while Landon smacked the back of my helmet hard enough to make my vision blur slightly.

“You saved our asses,” he said.

The scoreboard still glowed brightly above the arena.

CRESTWOOD — 5

WESTBRIDGE — 4

The arena kept roaring louder. Students screamed my name repeatedly from the stands while cameras flashed violently from every direction.

“KIERAN!”

“Hampton!”

“This way!”

Reporters were already flooding the edge of the rink before we even fully got off the ice.

Coach Hale grabbed my shoulder roughly as we headed toward the tunnel.

“That last move was beautiful,” he muttered.

Coming from Coach Hale, that was practically emotional vulnerability.

I barely reacted.

Because my attention kept drifting somewhere else. Toward the clinic hallway, the image of him gasping against the boards refused to leave my head. Something about it bothered me more than it should have.

“Kieran!”

A microphone nearly slammed into my face the second I stepped into the media area.

“How does it feel securing Crestwood’s biggest win this season?”

“Professional scouts were present tonight.."

“That final assist was incredible..."

“Are the NHL rumours true?”

Camera flashes burned across my vision repeatedly.

I answered automatically Years of training made it easy. “We played hard tonight.”

“It was a team effort.”

“Westbridge pushed us.”

Words after words rolled smoothly off my tongue while my eyes kept drifting toward the hallway leading away from the arena. I needed to check on Asher.

I started stepping away from the reporters. Then my father’s voice stopped me instantly.

“Kieran.”

My entire body stiffened.

Richard Hampton approached through the crowd looking perfectly composed in a dark expensive coat, as if he belonged on a business magazine cover instead of a hockey arena. Beside him, my mother walked quietly in soft cream colours, elegant and calm despite the chaos surrounding us.

Reporters immediately shifted toward them too. My father attracted attention without even trying. Former hockey player, Business investor. The man loved prestige almost as much as he loved control.

His hand landed heavily on my shoulder. “That final play saved the game,” he said.

Not congratulations, not I’m proud of you, just evaluation.

My mother smiled softly at me. “You played well.”

I nodded once. “Thanks, Mom.” She adjusted part of my shirt gently before stepping back again. That was how she expressed her love for me.

“We need to speak to the scouts,” my father said immediately.

“My teammate got hurt,” I said. “I need to check on him first.”

My father’s expression hardened almost instantly. “The medical staff are handling it.”

“ It is my duty to check up on him. He was barely breathing.”

“And yet the game continued.”

Something about the way he said it made anger twist violently inside me. His voice stayed calm but somehow that made it worse.

“You cannot afford any other distractions tonight".

I clenched my jaw tightly.

My mother glanced between us carefully.

"Listen to him,” he has other people to check up on him she said softly.

My father ignored her completely. “The scouts from North Ridge are waiting.”

And just like that the conversation was over. Because when my father decided something, everybody else simply adjusted around him, including me.

The next hour felt exhausting. Scout after scout approached me shaking my hand while discussing statistics, projections, scholarships and professional development leagues like I was already some investment waiting to mature.

“You’ve got professional awareness.”

“Incredible discipline.”

“That final sequence was elite level.”

I answered everything perfectly while internally feeling absolutely nothing. Every few minutes, my attention drifted toward my phone. No news about Asher.

The uneasiness under my skin kept growing. Eventually, the arena started emptying while the team headed towards the locker room for some more celebrations.

I was finally heading toward the exit when my father called my name again.

“Kieran. Car.”

The ride home was silent. My father drove with one hand gripping the steering wheel tightly while my mother stared quietly out the window beside him.

I already knew what was coming.

The second we stepped inside the house, everything exploded. My father threw the car keys across the room violently.

They hit the marble floor with a sharp crack.

“Why wasn’t your head in the game?” he snapped, running a hand harshly over his face. “Do you know how much today means for your career?”

Anger flashed through me instantly. “I am the captain. My teammate was hurt,” I replied.

His expression darkened immediately. “Your priorities should have been playing the biggest game of the season. Nothing else.”

The shouting echoed through the house. My mother stayed near the doorway silently.

I was fuming now. Every ounce of frustration I had buried for years clawed violently against my chest.

I wanted to yell back. Wanted him to hear me for once instead of seeing me as some investment carrying his failed dreams.

But this was my father. He had always been like this. He was a discarded hockey player who couldn’t make it to the NHL. He quit after college because of an injury and ever since then it felt like he had shoved every broken dream directly onto my shoulders.

My future had been decided before I was even born.

Hockey

There was never another option, never another path. Not once had anyone asked me what I actually wanted for myself.

“I am doing my best,” I said tightly. “I’m not the only person on this team. Every win, every loss we did it as a team.”

That seemed to anger him the most.

He crossed the room in seconds and grabbed the front of my top harshly.

“You are Kieran Hampton,” he snapped aggressively. “Not anyone else. You aren’t good enough if we lose this game.”

My jaw tightened painfully.

He held my clothes for another second before finally shoving me backwards.

Then suddenly he smiled.

That smile was worse than the yelling.

“That name,” he said coldly, “is what people will be screaming when you’re in the NHL.”

I looked away before he could see the anger in my face. Because if he saw it, this conversation would get worse. My phone buzzed suddenly in my pocket.

I pulled it out quickly.

Landon:

The team are having a celebratory party, are you coming??

For a second I stared at the message longer than necessary. Normal people were outside somewhere celebrating a win with their teammates while I stood inside another argument I never asked for.

“I’m heading out,” I said finally. “The team are having a celebratory party.”

My father laughed sharply. “What the fuck are you celebrating? One win?”

I stayed silent.

“You celebrate when your career is at its peak.”

Then he walked away. The conversation had exhausted him more than me.

My mother lingered awkwardly near the hallway before speaking softly.

“Your father just wants what’s best for you.”

I almost laughed at that. Instead, I nodded once because arguing wouldn’t change anything.

I went upstairs without another word.

The rest of the night, I stayed in my room watching videos and feeds from the team’s celebration party.

Milo was already drunk in half the clips.

Theo nearly fell into a pool at some point.