Then a reporter from ESPN turns to me. “Logan, you're heading to Chicago on Wednesday for the Chargers. They've won six of their last eight at home. What's the approach going into that building?”
“Same as every road game. Play our game, stick to our systems, don't let the crowd dictate the tempo.”
“Your back looked like it was bothering you in the first period. Any concerns heading into a quick turnaround?”
“No.”
The reporter waits for more. Cole jumps in and talks about the training staff and how well they manage the workload during the season.
We wrap up and head back to the locker room.
It’s loud and loose. Liam is spraying water bottles, and Mercer is trying to keep a straight face and failing. I shower, change, and sit at my stall while the noise settles. Then I pull out my phone.
My fingers hover over the keyboard. I should leave it alone. But I desperately want to see her.
Want to grab dinner?
Jasmine’s reply comes in under a minute.
As friends?
Yes.
Where?
I send her the name of a restaurant in the West Village that's quiet and doesn't attract a hockey crowd. She replies with a thumbs-up.
I put my phone away and finish getting dressed. Cole stops by my stall on his way out. “Good game tonight, Shaw. That pass in the second was a thing of beauty.”
“Thanks, Cap.”
He leaves. Blake is at the next stall, tying his shoes. “Gordy's or family tonight?”
“Neither. Grabbing dinner.”
Blake looks up. “With?”
“A friend.”
He holds my gaze for a second, visibly amused, then goes back to his shoes. “Uh huh. Have fun.”
My phone buzzes.
Dad: Good game tonight. Your gap control was better. We're at the family entrance. Mom wants to say hi.
Every home game, they wait for me at the family entrance, then they invite me to drive back to Long Island with them or grab a late dinner somewhere nearby.
I grab my bag and head out to the family entrance. Mom pulls me into a hug. “Great game, sweetheart.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
Dad shakes my hand. “Much better tonight. Your positioning in the second was solid. That pass to Cole was the best play I've seen you make all season.”
From Dad, that's a standing ovation.
“Thanks,” I say with a grinning.
“We're thinking Italian,” Mom says. “That place on Eighth you like. You coming?”
