“So, what happened next?”
“The mom from my adoptive family had some health issues and couldn’t look after me. I got placed into a temporary foster home. It was supposed to be just until she got better and we could finalize the adoption. But she never recovered and eventually passed away. The dad didn’t want to take on a small child on his own, not afterthe loss of his wife, which is understandable. Especially since I wasn’t exactly a baby anymore by then. I was three.”
“Oh, wow,” she says quietly, swallowing. “That’s sad. I’m so sorry.”
“I didn’t really understand what was happening, to be honest. The foster home I was with was nice, and they took great care of me. I called my foster mom Auntie Mumu, and she really was one. I wanted to stay with her, and she had a permanent spot available, so the state eventually agreed.”
Harper nods gently. “That’s good. Do you still keep in touch with her?”
I smile. “I do. Not too often because of my schedule and the time difference, but there’s always social media, and we email or call each other on a pretty regular basis. I haven’t seen her in a couple of years.”
“Is she the one who got you into hockey?”
I bob my head. “Yes. Her husband worked in a hockey club, and I started at age four before joining the local junior program at six. They were happy they found something I liked that brought me out of my shell. I was kind of a shy kid back then.”
She nods, listening closely, not interrupting.
“I played all throughout my childhood in clubs and eventually for French, then European tournaments. At sixteen, I was selected by a Quebec Major Junior Hockey League team, so I moved to a town near Montreal and lived with a billet family.”
Her eyebrows furrow. “What’s a billet family?”
“It’s a host family for young hockey players who move away from home to play for a team.”
“Wow,” she says softly. “That’s pretty early to leave home. Such a big change.”
“It was, but it was also my dream to play professionally, and not many people get that chance. They knew that, and so did I.”
I shift in my chair before continuing. “At eighteen, I got drafted by a Floridian team, where I spent most of my first season in the AHL honing my game. I made the roster full-time a couple of years later. I got my green card, my game improved, and I got more exposure. I changed teams twice before landing in New York where I am now. Oh—and a few years ago, I passed the citizenship test and now have dual citizenship.”
“Impressive,” she says, grabbing a Twix. “Has this life been everything you dreamed of, so far?”
“It has,” I say honestly. “It’s hard work, but when you love what you do, it doesn’t always feel like work. Playing in the NHL has brought me joy, serenity, a sense of belonging. Friends.”
Her head tilts slightly. “How so?”
“Hockey is a community. We show up for one another, and as we train and play together, we become like family—something I always craved.”
“Yeah,” she says, glancing away for a second, then back at me. “And how do you think playing hockey has shaped you as a human being? As a man?”
“Responsibility is big in hockey. Loyalty too. And even if we have some degree of fame…”
She gives me a pointed look that I ignore.
“Most of us are humble. Everything is designed to keep us grounded. We’re responsible for our own gear from a young age. We carry our bags. We tape our sticks. If you see kids struggling to haul around giant equipment bags while their parents watch, don’t feel sorry for them. It’s not cruelty. It’s hockey.”
“Interesting. I never knew that.”
I lean my elbows on the table. “Does that mean you’re going to stop calling me Mr. Celebrity, then?”
Her eyes narrow playfully. “Mmm. Not a chance. You’re still benefitting from your fame, Mr. I-get-the-car-and-the-suite.”
I roll my eyes. “Again, I don’t control stock or room availability.”
She laughs, then switches topics. “I just learned that half of your regular season games are away games. It’s a demanding schedule. How do you cope with that?”
I shrug. “I’m used to it. It’s been my life for over a decade. I know I won’t be playing forever, so I want to enjoy it while I can.”
“Right.” She taps a finger on the table. “Do you know what you’ll do after this? Just enjoy your money and retire?”
