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The game should start in about an hour. The Nighthawks are hosting the Minnesota Mystics. With how the guys have been playing so far, they shouldn’t have any problem walking away with a win. But I get nervous every game, no matter what their chances are. Especially since Reed’s a defender and tends to get in a lot of fights. I know that it’s part of his job, but I don’t always love watching him get hit. Ninety percent of the time, he doesn’t take a punch, but there is still that other ten percent that he will. It doesn’t matter how great of a fighter he might be; no one wins every fight forever.
Suddenly, I remember that I want to throw on my man’s jersey before it starts. I grab my oversize Nighthawks jersey and put it on. Nothing beats wearing your partner’s name on your back. Even though I’m only in the confines of our home, it still feels like I’m proclaiming to the world that I’m his.
I know Reed likes it when I wear it. He made that perfectly clear when we started dating and would go feral, seeing me in it.
Grabbing my phone, I take a quick selfie and send it to him.
Me: Good luck, Goldy! I love you! Hatty and I will be cheering you on!
I wish that I could be at the arena. That energy is crazy and contagious. Hockey is fun to watch on TV, but nothing compares to seeing it in real life.
“Come on, Hatty,” I call as I walk out of the room.
His three-legged pitter-patter is right behind me as I head to the living room to get the TV set up for the pregame show. After I get that ready to go, I make a few snacks that I can munch on during the game. I’ve been craving queso a lot lately, so I make some of that and grab some tortilla chips and a White Claw.
My phone chimes, and once I get my armful emptied onto the coffee table in the living room, I pull my phone out of my pocket and check it.
Dad: On my way. See you in a few! Go Nighthawks!
My dad flew in a few days after my surgery, and it’s been great, having him here. I miss him. I was worried my sickness would sink him even further into his shell, but somehow, it seemed to break it instead. He’s never been more present and alert. I hope it stays that way.
“Those are not for you,” I say as Hatty tries to steal a chip.
Taking a deep breath, I try to practice what my new therapist told me. Look around the room with intention. What do I see? What do I smell? What does it make me feel? It’s supposed to help ground me.
I’ve been trying to train my inner voice to be more positive and kinder. It’s definitely a work in progress.
I see a fireplace with photos of Reed, Hatty, and me on the mantel. I see a giant TV that I get to watch my boyfriend on. I smell delicious queso that my mouth is now watering for. And I feel…happy.
The doorbell rings.
Jumping up, I walk over to the front door and let my dad in.
“Hi, sweetie!” he cheers and pulls me into a big hug.
“Hi, Dad.” I smile against his chest and hug him back.
I’m so glad he’s here. We stand in our embrace, longer than a hug typically lasts, and if we stay this way much longer, I might just start crying.
I didn’t think that I would make it this far. But here I am, alive and breathing. I’ll never take another day for granted again.
Pulling away, I take a real look at him and see that he’s wearing the same thing I am—a Larinski jersey. I giggle, unable to help it.
“You like it? I got it today.” He grabs the hem of it and does a twirl.
I chuckle. “It looks great, Dad. I love it.”
Hatty meows from the living room.
“He agrees too!” my dad says joyfully.
That’s so cute. As proud of a cat dad as Reed is, my dad is just as proud as Hatty’s granddad.
“I’ve got some chips and queso if you want some?” I offer and walk toward the living room.
“Sounds great. We’d better hurry so we don’t miss anything,” he says urgently.
Kos is doing a pregame interview on the ice when we sit down on the couch.
