New York Type of Love: Matt Rempe

There was something different about the Garden that morning. It wasn't just Game 3 energy—New Yorkers knew playoff hockey, lived for it, and they were used to the buzz. But today... Today felt electric in a way that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

The Rangers and Panthers were tied 1-1 in this series. The Panthers had been clawing, fighting tooth and nail, and  Florida wouldn't go down quietly.

And yet, in the heart of that storm, something was missing.

Someone.

Nova Hughes.

Her name hadn't been officially scratched, but she hadn't been on the ice for Games 1 or 2. And for a team as close-knit as the Rangers, her absence was more than tactical—it was emotional. Her line with Braden and Laf had been electric all playoffs. Her leadership, her fire, her stubborn need to win... they hadn't just missed her presence. They'd missed her.

But no one talked about it.

Game 3 began with a roaring Garden crowd, the Rangers' starting lineup taking the ice with intensity. But Nova's spot on the bench remained empty. Cameras caught it more than once. Whispers circled in the arena, and social media was already speculating.

"Still no Hughes?"

"She out again?"

But the team knew better than to lose focus.

Florida came out hard, physical, hungry. The first period was brutal. Hits thrown like messages, gloves gripped a little tighter, and tension stretched like wire. The Rangers held on, matching the Panthers stride for stride, but you could feel it: they were missing that last spark.

The intermission was quiet.

Coach didn't yell. Nobody complained. It was just one of those intermissions where you could feel the weight of the game pressing down on them.

Ten minutes into the second period, it happened.

A whistle blew. Play stopped.

The refs signaled.

Timeout, Rangers.

Confused looks flicked across the ice. Braden turned toward the bench, blinking.

"Coach, did we call that?"

Laviolette just stood there, arms crossed, a small smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth. "Just watch."

And then the arena lights dimmed just slightly—just enough to shift the energy.

The jumbotron screen sparked to life.

A highlight reel began to roll.

It was Nova.

Her goal from Game 6 of the previous round—the breakaway that had sent the Garden into a frenzy. Her fist-pumping celebration, her teammates swarming her, her eyes lit up like fire. Then a clip of her leveling a hit in the corner, throwing her body into every shift like it was her last. She and Braden, bumping gloves on the bench, laughing. Her sticking up for Matt in a post-whistle scrum. Her flying down the wing with Laf in perfect sync. Her celebrating that OT win, jumping into Foxy's arms.

And then, the screen went black.

For a moment, total silence.

Then the PA announcer's voice rang through the arena:

"Returning to the lineup after missing the first two games of the Eastern Conference Finals..."

The crowd started to rise.