AllFreeNovel
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It just reminds me of me being a little boy, doing that exact same thing. Similar to Jack, at least for the first part of his life, I was raised by a single mom. I have the best mom in the world. She was the reason I started playing in the first place.
She worked hard my entire life to be able to provide for my sister and me, sacrificing her wants time and time again for us. Hockey isn’t a cheap sport to play, but she made sure I never went without everything I needed.
She worked as a hairdresser. She didn’t love it or probably even want to do it. I know, more than anything, she wanted to stay home with Abby more than she was able to. Which is why, the second I could, I gave her enough money to retire for good at forty-eight.
Abby is my sweet little sister. She is funny, charismatic, and incredibly empathetic. She has Down syndrome. She’s one of the most amazing people in this world. She loves art, crafts, any kind of project she can be creative with. She’s the reason for my own liking of it.
I swore for the longest time that I just liked it because I got to spend time with her. But it’s actually fun to sit down and bring something to life with your own two hands.
My mom and my sister mean everything to me. The fact that Charlotte and them are so close makes it even more meaningful. She is so good with my sister, and Char and my mom have such a good relationship too. They text all the time, sending each other memes or just talking to each other.
There is no fucking doubt in my mind that Charlotte will be my wife. I love her more than I even knew was possible.
I’ve had girlfriends before, of course, and a few flings, and I thought I had been in love before. But that wasn’t anything compared to what Charlotte and I have.
I would die for Charlotte in a heartbeat, I would kill for her, I would do anything for her, and I can’t wait for her last name to be the same as mine.
About two months ago, I, with the help of my mom, designed a custom diamond engagement ring for Char. I am going to ask her to marry me, and I’m so excited. My mom helped me look through thousands of examples, hand-picking each aspect of the ring, before I finally decided on the perfect one. Hopefully, it ships sooner than later. I’m dying, keeping this from her.
I’ve been a bit anxious about it—I can’t hide that. The chance of her saying no is obviously there. I just can’t imagine that even being an outcome because we are in such a good place and we always have been. We’ve had little fights or bickers here and there, but nothing that would ever make me question that we are meant to be together.
“Goldyyyy!” Brett Burns, forward and number seventy-two on the team, sings as he bumps into me, dancing awkwardly as we wait to take the ice again before the starting lineups.
Getting into it, I dance along with him to some pop song blaring around us. Soon enough, all six of us are dancing, and I can’t help but laugh at Brett’s intentionally bad moves.
The music quiets.
It’s game time, baby.
We take the ice as the announcer says our names. The majority of the crowd must be rooting for the Wild. Aside from a few sporadic cheering fans, the arena is almost quiet as we skate out.
This immediately changes as the announcer begins listing off the Wild’s starting lineup. Individual voices meld into one overwhelming noise, surrounding us, growing louder with each starting player that comes onto the ice.
The announcer says a few more things that I tune out, and then the anthem begins. By the time the singer finishes, my heart is pumping hard, and I’m practically bouncing on my skates from anticipation for the puck drop.
Bright light floods my vision as we skate into place on center ice. The ref holds the puck up, the centers ready their stick, and the chaos begins.
Kos wins the face-off and kicks the puck between his legs and backward to me. With a one-touch pass, the puck flies off of my stick and toward JD. We take off toward the Wild’s zone, and JD dishes the puck to Costy. Costy passes it to Kos, who catches the puck, dekes—or fakes out— their defenseman, winds up, and shoots.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” I scream at Kos as the puck bounces off of the inside of the net.
Nighthawks—1. Wild—0.
Nothing like scoring on the first play and within the first fifteen seconds of the game. Now, we just have to keep this momentum up.
We are able to clench the lead through the entire first period, the score ending 1 to 0. The intermission flies by, as well as the second and most of the third period. Aside from number 73 on the Wild trying to get his ass beat by jabbing his stick into my ribs, nothing much has changed. We are still up by one with four minutes twenty-two seconds left in the game.
“You’re fucking trash, dude.” Number 73 makes an attempt at a chirp ten feet away from me.
“It seems like it since none of you can score on me,” I calmly say back with a smile as the puck is dropped and we take off again.
Costy wins the face-off, and we fly into their zone. We’ve got numbers. Three of us and only two of them. Costy to Kos, then back to Costy. I skate past the defender. Costy rips the puck between the two defenders, and I use my stick to deflect it…right through the goalie’s five-hole and into the net.
Pumping my fist out, I skate out to celebrate and lock eyes with number 73.
Pressing my glove against my face, I blow him a kiss. “That one was for you, baby girl!”
Only a few feet stretch between us, and he erases that distance almost instantly, flicking his gloves off in the process.
