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Her touch always calms me, but all I can do is offer her a brief smile right now before glancing back at the ice. The Racketeers are up 3-2 against the Dragons in the championship game and there’s only thirty seconds of game time left. The Dragons are on a power play and our coach just called a timeout. If the Dragons score here I’m going to have to suffer through overtime.
“Relax,” Stanford says, sipping the world’s largest slushie in his seat next to me. He looks like a million bucks, wearing an Armani suit, his hair and eyebrows carefully tamed by a stylist this afternoon.
His nurse and Val are next to him, just in case, but he’s mostly lucid today. Except for the moments when he seems to think he’s much younger and his nurse is actually his girlfriend. Fortunately, Chrissy seems used to it and plays along with him.
“How can you be so calm?” I ask him.
“I’ve got one foot in the grave, Nathan,” he says. “What’s there to get worked up about?”
That makes me chuckle. “Fair enough.”
We’re in the owner’s box because I wanted my grandfather to be here. Isabel as well. When we’re in the stands, we put noise canceling headphones on the baby, but up here we don’t have to worry about the crowd. She slept through the majority of the third period, but is sitting on Danielle’s lap now, dressed in Racketeers gear Crew had specially made by an Etsy vendor. It’s a onesie with Sammy the Malamute’s face on it and Crew’s number, seventeen, on the back. There’s a blue tutu around her round belly and Sammy tights on her legs. Her socks are designed to look like hockey skates.
Crew has become the dad who wants our daughter in theme clothing all the time. Michael and Danielle go for practical outfits most of the time, and I have a bad habit of buying her ridiculously over-the-top things like Baby Dior. But Crew brings the fun and has Isabel decked out for every holiday and occasion in something adorably kitschy. She was the cutest leprechaun to ever exist on St. Patrick’s Day. Right now, she has a giant bow perched on her beautiful dark curls and she is a little glassy-eyed, up way past her bedtime.
“McNeill’s having a great game,” my grandfather says.
“He is,” Danielle says, her voice filled with pride. “He’s worked so hard this season.”
I don’t comment because the puck drops.
Our guys are doing everything to prevent the Dragons from taking a shot and to burn down the clock. I’m on the edge of my seat. Harris won’t be out of the box until regulation is up. But then the best possible thing happens—Alexsei Ryan steals the puck from their forward and passes it to Crew.
I jump up out of my seat and yell in encouragement.
McNeill takes it down the ice and evades their defenseman, who tries to slam him into the glass. That doesn’t work and Crew is skating hard to the goal, he gets intentionally tripped but somehow manages to stay on his feet. The foul is called, but there’s only ten seconds left on the clock.
Miraculously, Crew manages to get off a shot right before the buzzer and it sails past their goalie into the net, securing the win.
My grandfather surges to his feet beside me, slushie still in hand. I’m clapping, in awe.
This is it. We did it.
The guys pulled it off.
We fucking did it!
Crew is being hoisted up by his teammates and the whole bench is out on the ice now.
I turn to Danielle. I can feel how huge my grin is. I can’t believe all of the emotions tumbling around inside me. “Holy shit. We won.”
She’s on her feet too, beaming, tears in her eyes. “This is amazing!”
I cup the back of her head and pull her in for a kiss. She meets my lips, but we don’t have time for a long kiss. I let her go. “I love you.”
“I love you too! I’m so happy for you.” She looks down and bounces Isabel up and down. “We won, baby!”
Even Isabel looks a little stunned, like she can’t believe this is happening.
Fans are screaming, the roar deafening. Ticker tape in the Racketeers colors is raining down and Wade, in his Sammy the Malamute costume, is breakdancing on the ice.
My grandfather takes my hand and gives it a firm shake that nearly breaks my heart. “You did it, son,” he says. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you. This is all for you, you know? This is your legacy.” I can barely get the words out. “This city has had hockey for fifty years because of you and I promise you, the Racketeers will still be here fifty years from now.”
Stanford nods. Then he reaches over and tickles Isabel’s belly and gives Danielle a kiss on the cheek. “This is my legacy, too,” he says. “Your family. I’m proud of you, Nathan, and your father would be too.”
That’s all I need. Now I truly have everything a man could ever want.
