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He stops when we reach the group of men gathered in a semicircle. I recognize his dad right away. It makes sense now that BJ seemed familiar when I first met him, because he looks a lot like Randy Ballistic, the former NHL star. Who I’m about to meet.
If I don’t faint first.
“Hey, Dad, I wanted to introduce you to Winter. She works at Boones with Rose, and she’s a hockey player.”
The conversation amongst the dads stops, and every head turns our way.
It’s a moment that will 1000 percent go down in my top-five most memorable. Because I’m in the presence of some of the greatest retired players in the league.
I raise a hand in a wave and am impressed when my voice doesn’t come out seven octaves too high. “I usually play pick-up at the old town rink.”
“Winter, this is my dad, Randy.” BJ motions to his father. “And this is my uncle, Alex Waters; Rose’s dad, Darren Westinghouse; Lovey’s dad, Miller Butterson; and her brother Logan.”
The puzzle pieces start falling into place. All these people I’ve been running into are connected to one another through their hockey-legend fathers. It’s a freaking trip and a half.
I also recognize Logan. He’s local law enforcement. He’s stopped by the trailer park on occasion to deal with domestics or issue drunk-and-disorderly charges. If he recognizes me, he doesn’t show it.
I shake their hands and try not to pass out from the thrill of it all. “It’s an honor to meet you. All of you. You’re like, legends.” Yeah. I’m totally fangirling.
“We’re very excited that you’re here.” Alex Waters gives me a warm smile.
“Yeah, me too.” I nod a bunch of times and am grateful when BJ suggests we warm up.
He nudges me with his elbow. “You all right? You’re looking a little shell-shocked.”
“I have an Alex Waters rookie card. I’m low-level freaking out.” I found it at a garage sale. The person getting rid of it had no idea what they were parting with.
He shifts to skate backwards in front of me. “They’re glad you’re here. And so am I. Just have fun with me, Winter.” He skates a circle around me and follows it with a pirouette.
“What the?”
He does some kind of jump thing. “I might have forgotten to mention that I’m not a hockey player. I’m a figure skater.”
I bite my lip. A tattooed, bearded figure skater. Why does that up his hotness level? “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”
For the next forty-five minutes, we skate and talk. I find out that most of this group goes to college together in Chicago, and that Rose is moving in with Lovey and her twin sister, Lacey, and their cousin River, who is Maverick’s brother. It finally clicked that Maverick is Alex’s son. I also find out that Lovey is BJ’s best friend, which is…interesting. Lovey is gorgeous in that all-American-girl way: tall, willowy, fair-haired with tan skin. She looks like she could be captain of the cheer squad, and she has a gentle, kind personality. I also learn that the foodbank isn’t the only place Lovey volunteers, but I don’t correct him when he makes the assumption that we volunteer there together.
While we chat and circle the rink, BJ twirls and jumps and spins around everyone. It’s unexpected and impressive. My skates are definitely on the dull side, so I’m extra careful on the turns, not wanting to wipe out, especially in front of all these former NHL stars.
At eight, the scoreboard lights up with ten minutes on the clock, and Rose, Lovey, and Clover glide toward the gate.
BJ skates a wide circle around me, eyes lit up. “You’re gonna scrimmage with us, yeah?”
“If that’s okay.” I’m nervous, but excited. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I just hope I can keep up.
“It’s more than okay. Come on.” BJ inclines his head to where the dads are standing by the bench. “We’re about to pick teams, and I want you on mine.”
I grab my gear, and we skate over to the rest of the group.
“We gonna go four-on-four? Split it two old-timers and two youngins?” Maverick asks.
Four-on-four means fast play. It’ll be a challenge.
His dad—Alex freaking Waters OMG—shoots him a look. “We’re veteran players, not old-timers.”
“Sorry, Dad. I forget how much you hate to be reminded that you’re not in your twenties anymore.” Maverick sends a wink my way.
Instead of schoolyard pick, which BJ votes for, we draw pieces of paper with either a red or black dot in the center from a small box. I end up on a team with Maverick, Darren Westinghouse—he’s intimidating—and BJ’s dad.
