and hot girl summer okay?
You’re welcome
Kai and I had discussed the idea of going to his game this upcoming weekend. But something about Akio and I attendingalone, being in the spotlight feels a little too exposed, too real. I just want to have fun and enjoy watching Kai without any additional pressure. I figure having Emma come with us would alleviate some of that. I’ve also asked Kai a few times to set Emma up with one of his friends or teammates. This feels like a golden opportunity that I can’t pass up. Kai has met Emma twice now and he’s unnervingly adept at reading people. I trust him when he says Jax is a genuine person and that he could be a really good match for her.
Two days later, we’re sitting in a VIP skybox with a few other players' families and it feels surreal. The drinks are flowing as we snack on various deep fried appetizers and finger food. The energy of the crowd is anxious, excited, hopeful. And honestly, so am I. I’ve watched so many of his games on my small television in our apartment or from the screen of my iPhone. But this is different. This is how it always should have been. Him on the ice and us in the stands. I’m so incredibly proud of him and I’m honored that he wants us here to support him.
“There he is!” I practically scream, pointing him out to Emma and Akio. “You gotta yell for him real loud, Akio, okay?” I say. He shakes his head up and down emphatically, a wide grin spreading across his face.
“Yay, Kai Kai!” Akio yelps excitedly. I also make a point to show Emma exactly where Jax is on the ice. She shoves me with her shoulder but I see her cheeks redden along with the hint of a smile.
God, I forgot how good he looks all suited up in his gear. His eyes are focused, serious, determined while he moves with speed and precision. He’s a predator on the ice and he has the merciless wrath of one too. Over time, Kai’s muscles have been cut and strengthened to deliver dominance and perfection. His impressively large body is only made bigger by all of his pads. He takes his cage off, some wisps of hair already plastered tohis forehead, and smiles at me, a big goofy boyish grin. He then proceeds to wave his stick in the air. Like we aren’t close enough to know exactly where he is at all times. I hear a loud whistle before Kai blows us a dramatic kiss and skates off.
Then the game begins.
Akio has pressed his face against the glass of the VIP skybox, totally captivated by the game taking place in front of him.
“Right there!” he says beaming, eyes wide. “That’s Kai Kai!” Kai glides across the ice like he’s made for it—fluid, fast, controlled. Number 23. No matter how hard I tried, I could never forget that number or the man wearing it. The back of his jersey, the way he moves on the ice is as familiar as his voice. And playing hockey is like breathing for him. Easy. Effortless. The stick might as well be an extension of his arm.
He swoops in front of the net, gets a pass from the wing, and—GOAL. The arena erupts with manic frenzied energy. Lights flash, a horn blares and Akio jumps in my arms, unable to contain his excitement. We watch Kai skate past the glass, and for a split second, he glances up—eyes searching the skybox. I don’t know if he sees us, if he feels how loud we’re cheering for him, but my heart bursts at the thought anyway.
Chapter 60
Kai
Thearenahumswithbodies packed shoulder to shoulder, their energy electric and infectious. The smell of popcorn, cold air, and rubber mingle together in that way that only exists inside a rink. Sticks clatter. Someone takes a hit twenty feet to my left and the crowd surges.
People always talk about the sound. The deafening volume of the crowd, the clang of the puck off the post, the sharp hiss of blades scraping against ice. And the unmistakable thud of heavy bodies into boards. But tonight, all that is drowned out by the momentary silence and peace I feel when I spot them. I look up into the stands and my eyes are instantly drawn to them like an unescapable magnetic force.
Upper level. Second box from the right. Kendall’s wearing that long olive coat that sits right above her knees. Her hair’s up in a tight bun, a few curls around her face—her go-to style. And in her arms—hands and nose pushed to the glass—is Akio.Our son. He’s wearing a jersey with my number on it, 23. It’s the smallest size they had but it still hangs from his tiny frame, draping over his shoulders and legs.
She points to me and waves, trying to show Akio and Emma exactly where I am. When he makes the realization, he starts waving furiously. Kendall and Akio are here for me and it means everything. I wave back and blow them a kiss and I couldn’t care less about the shit I’m going to get for it later in the locker room.
***
Coachbarksordersfromsomewhere behind me but I don’t catch them. The only thing I can see is their faces. She’s radiating warmth, love, and pure joy. Kendall looks ecstatic in a way I haven’t seen in a long time, their smiles bright and contagious.
I blink and turn around with considerable effort, focusing my energy and attention back to the face off. It’s the third period of the game and we’re tied. Four minutes remain on the clock.
It's the kind of shift that feels inevitable when everything clicks, when your edges are sharp and your reads are a half-second faster than everyone else's. I've put in ten thousand hours to make four minutes look effortless.
No pressure or anything.
Once I win the draw, it’s automatic, seamless, muscle memory. I pass to Jonah on my left, thunder down the side, and rush the net. I know this game—its pace, its rhythm—like the back of my hand, like I know the sound of her voice or the shape of Akio's smile. They’re all tattooed on my heart.
When I get the puck back in my possession, I don't even have to think about it. I send it flying past the goalie and into the net. The goal light flares red and the horn swallows the entire arena whole. The glass shakes. The ice vibrates beneath my skates.
GOAL.
My teammates attack me, rioting and yelling, sticks knocking against helmets and pads.
I’ve played one of the best games of my fucking life and we won. It’s no surprise I played my ass off. I wanted to make both Kendall and Akio proud. I also hope this marks the first of many games they’ll attend.
The locker room is loud and hot. It smells like sweat and adrenaline and the sharp bite of athletic tape. Gear hits the floor in heavy chunks. Someone's got music blasting from a phone shoved inside a helmet.
“You were on fire tonight, Matsumoto,” Jonah comments, snapping a towel on my back. “What’s the move, we celebrating?” he asks, eyebrows raised.
“Fuck yes. I think we’re all going to dinner at La Vela. Like 8ish? I’m sure some people will hit the bar after.”
