Page 73 of Line Change

Much to everyone’s dismay, no penalty is assessed, and Coach Weaver is clearly unhappy with the decision based on the way he’s pointing and yelling. The ref skates over to the bench and says something, probably warning Coach to calm down or be assessed a bench minor penalty. The ref skates away, and the puck is dropped just outside Nashville’s blue line with Elias winning the draw. He tries to pass the puck across the ice to another Storm forward, but the Fury steal it, then there’s a turnover in the neutral zone, and the Storm regain possession, only to lose it a few seconds later.

That’s how it goes for the rest of the period, with no other goals scored. Thankfully. When the horn sounds for intermission, I sink back into my seat.

“I’m going to get a beer. Want anything?” Hadley asks me.

“Water, if you don’t mind.”

“You got it,” she says, getting up and heading toward the stairs to the concourse.

Becca gets to her feet, holding Hazel.

“Need me to hold her?” I hold out my hands.

“You don’t mind?”

I shake my head.

“Do you want to hang out with Auntie Sutton?” Becca asks her daughter.

“Yesss.” Hazel claps her hands together and reaches for me.

“Thank you. I’m going to run to the bathroom and check in and see if they need me …”

“No rush. We’re good, right, Haze?” I direct my question to the eighteen-month-old in my lap.

“Dood,” Hazel says, reaching for my face.

“I’ll be back as soon as possible, baby.” Becca kisses her daughter’s head. “If they need me …”

“Don’t worry about it. Between all of us, we can manage.”

“Thank you,” Becca says.

“Juice,” Hazel demands.

Becca laughs, scooting past me and heading toward the stairs that lead up to the concession level. “Okay, I’ll bring you a drink.”

“Are you enjoying the game?” I ask Hazel.

“Daddy.” She points toward the net, bouncing up and down and babbling.

“Your dad is out there playing hockey with his friends.”

Hazel claps her hands, giggling.

Madison leans over the empty seats, her sleeping son in her arms. “She’s growing so fast.” She tips her chin toward Hazel.

“I know. So is yours.” She nods, glancing back toward the Storm’s now empty bench. “Hunter’s going to be fine.” I tell her.

“I know. I’m just worried. That was hard to watch,” Madison says. “Never gets easier.”

Before I can say anything else, Hadley comes back, holding two drinks, followed by Becca, who also has her hands full of drinks and food.

“They’re still assessing him,” Becca says when she sits down. “He never lost consciousness.”

“Thank you for finding out,” Madison says.

“Of course,” Becca says.