Tears pour down my face as she ends the call. As gut-wrenching as it is, something doesn’t add up. Yesterday was perfect. We were happy, she was happy. What changed between then and now? I don’t fucking get it. Something is going on here, and I will get to the bottom of it.
But what if she really is done with me? What if she really doesn’t want to be together?
I can’t think that, or I will curl into a fucking ball.
We have another game tomorrow night at home, and then I’m flying straight to her. Maybe a day apart will help her realize how great we are together and that we are so much better together than apart. She made a mistake with that call. I am returning there after tomorrow night and putting my family back together.
“Alright, boys, first home game of the season. We’ve got a sold-out house out there. We play our game at our level, and we aren’t going to have a problem sending the Wild packing. Starting tonight, we’ve got Jensen!”
The team claps for him and collectively shouts, “Whoo!”
I announce the next player, “Larinski!”
“Whoo!” The boys and coaches continue filling the locker room with cheers.
“Burnsy!”
“Whoo!”
“Costy!”
“Whoo!”
“Me!”
“Whoo!”
“Between the pipes, we’ve got MacArthurrrrrrrrr!”
Dragging his name out, the entire team goes crazy, hyping each other up.
We finish gearing up and head out of the locker room, the high of pregame dancing between us. As excited as I always am to hit the ice, I don’t feel completely myself. But I’m happy to have the distraction from Laura for a few hours. I have to get through this game, and then I’m getting my girl and my son back. I think she may have lost her mind if she thought I could stay away from them.
We make our way to the rink, listening to the announcer get the crowd riled up and announce the starting lineup. We take the ice as called and line up on the blue line. After singing the national anthem, it’s time for the puck drop.
We win the first face-off and drive the puck down the ice into their zone. I drop-pass the puck to Costy and screen the defender. Costy picks up the pass and fires at the net. Their goalie blocks it, but it ricochets, and Burnsy slaps it into the net.
Holy shit!
Screaming and cheering, I barrel into Burnsy and the huddle of our players celebrating the game’s first point.
The next face-off is won by the Wild, who managed to enter our zone. But Jensen steals it from one of their forwards and passes the puck to me, where I’m waiting at the entrance of their zone. I cross the blue line with a per- fect pass to my stick, determined to score on this break- away. Suddenly I’m thrown sideways and go flying into the boards.
Fuck this is going to hurt.
It’s worse than expected, my shoulder contacting the board first at full speed. I hear the whistle blow, but I can’t ignore the pulsing pain in my shoulder. It doesn’t feel like anything snapped or broke. It fucking hurts, but I have an instant cure for feeling better—going after the fucker who sent me into the boards.
Flying onto my feet, I feed into the pain, letting it turn into anger and fueling my search for the Wild’s player that hit me. It isn’t hard to figure out who he is because Jensen’s bare fists are already flying with his. The pain in my shoulder intensifies, and I let Jensen handle the fight. He has got to be twice the other guy’s size. They keep an arm’s length apart, but Jensen swiftly uppercuts the guy, and his head flies back. The Wild’s player loses his balance, but Jensen doesn’t let up as he hits the ice, landing multiple punches before the refs guide him away to the penalty box.
The crowd goes insane, vibrating the entire arena. But it still feels like something is missing. Because it is, it’s missing two people, my people.
“You alright?” Costy asks, skating up to me as I approach the bench.
“Yeah, just need a second,” I answered him. It doesn’t feel too serious. I just tweaked it. I’ll be fine in a moment. It’s nothing compared to the pain in my chest.
The rest of the first period flies by, with only two dead pucks for the remainder of the twenty minutes. I’m fucking exhausted by the end of it. My shoulder gets checked out when I’m in the locker room, and everything is fine. It’s just a little sore. We are still up one to nothing. We need to get a few more pucks in the net to secure the lead. The Wild scored and tied the game when the second period started, which was the opposite of what we wanted to happen. But thankfully, we were able to sneak the puck through the goalie’s five holes, and the best part is that it came from Jensen, our defender. He is one of our low- er-scoring players on the team, but that’s expected, given his position. The second period ends with us leading two to one.
The third and final period starts with a bang. I score on a breakaway and again when I’m awarded a penalty shot. With our lead now, four to one, we continue working hard to maintain our lead to make our first home game a victory.
With only seconds left, their forward shoots the puck toward the net, with me between them. I drop to my knees, turn and take the puck right in the calf, blocking his shot. The buzzer sounds, and the crowd goes wild, as does our team. A heck of a way to start our home season.
“Fuck yeah!” I cheer and join the pile of my teammates celebrating the win.
The adrenaline rush of a win usually lasts a little while, at least. But I can’t stop myself from looking at the crowd wishing more than anything that Laura and Jack could be here, cheering with us.
We make our way to the locker room. The coaches talk to us, pointing out the good and bad from the game but applauding us, nonetheless. Then we all quickly shower, and all the guys are getting ready to head to The Penalty Box, the bar we all go to after a home game win. I, however, will not be joining them tonight. I have an important task to start working on.
After changing, I pull my phone out of my bag, check my notifications, and see a text from an unknown number.
Unknown number: She needs you here. Her mom is gone. Forgive her for what she had to do, trust me. But please come, Laura needs you.
My heart fucking breaks wide open. Grabbing my bag, I bypass many teammates, moving quickly through the locker room, but not before Coach stops me.
“Everything okay there? You seem upset after a rather big win.” He says with a cheesy smile on his face.
“I’m going to be gone for the next few days. Family emergency, and I need to leave now,” I say matter-of-factly, my focus staying on Laura.
I feel Cam join me at my side. “What’s going on?”
“I’m leaving right now. Family emergency with Laura,” I say and turn to him, showing him the fear currently raking through my entire body.
“Is that really necessary?” Coach asks, and my blood begins to boil.
“Excuse me?” I snapped at him. My voice dangerously lowers, “She needs me. I’m going, and if you have a fucking problem with that, you can kiss my fucking ass. You are a heartless douchebag that cares more about a win than your own players. We don’t play for you; we play for each other. You make all of us feel guilty for taking time away from the team when we need to. Frankly, it’s long overdue that I say something about it to you. As the team captain, I have been slacking lately on my duties, which include taking care of my team. When I return, I will discuss our concerns with the general manager and see how he feels about his head coach questioning his player leaving for a family emergency. Absolutely disgraceful. Is it necessary? You want to win, right? Do you want me to lead this team and play my best? My family is necessary. Now get out of my way.” I shove past him and leave his jaw on the floor, my steps quickening every second.
“We’re coming with you!” Costy shouts, and I see Costy and Larinski running to catch up with me.
“You guys don’t need to do that,” I assure them as I head toward my car in the secured back lot.
“We know, but I want to be there for you.” Costy says while matching my pace.
Larinski adds, “Charlotte wants me to come too.”
“Did she tell you about her mom?”
“No, man, I swear I didn’t know. She asked me for your number before the game, but that was all. Her mom is sick, right? What happened?” He quietly asks, and as I suspect, he already knows the answer. “She passed away.”
Pressing unlock on my key fob, I unlock the doors and pop open the trunk. “Can one of you buy tickets? Reed, do you know if the funeral is planned or what we’ll be walking into?”
“I can find out. Cam, you get tickets.” Reed orders Costy as we get into my car, and I pull out of the parking spot. “Let her know we’re coming; we’re coming as fast as we can,” I tell Reed.
I’m on my way, baby.
