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“There. Photo posted to Instagram. I hope Trip loses his mind.”
“Trip. What a stupid name.” Braden casually put his arm around my waist. “Now we can enjoy the game.”
“Yes, we can!” I said, enjoying the way his palm felt against my hip.
30
Logan
“And now the starting lineup for your St. Louis Blues!” the announcer boomed. “At center, from Clinton, Ontario, Ryan O’Reilly!”
I stood in the tunnel underneath the stands, gently tapping my hockey stick on the ground. I hated this part of the game. We were all warmed up and ready to go, but now we had to stand around and deal with the pageantry bullshit that came with the game.
“At left wing, the Toronto Terror, Logan Laaaaaandry!”
The crowd roared as I stepped out onto the ice and began skating. I gave a few quick kicks, building speed as I circled the outside of the rink behind our goal, then lined up at center ice for the National Anthem.
I tapped my stick while staring down the opposing players from the Dallas Stars. I didn’t have a grudge against any of their players, but their forward had a reputation for picking fights.
I fucking hope he tries something.
At the end of the National Anthem, “…and the home of the brave,” the crowd replaced the word “brave” and all shouted, “BLUES!” at the top of their lungs. As soon as that happened, I took off skating again.
I didn’t care about pageantry.
I didn’t care about patriotism.
I didn’t care about sportsmanship.
I was here to play hockey, and God have mercy on anyone who got in my fucking way.
As I made my final pass around the rink, I slowed down while passing center ice. Braden gave me a goofy wave, but Beth only smiled. I gave her a smile back—or at least what I considered a smile. Maybe it was less of a glare than I normally wore. She was sipping on a large cup of beer, like a real hockey fan.
I didn’t know how to act around women. Everyone always said, “Just be yourself!” but that rarely worked for me. Acting like myself scared off most women.
With our ex, it was easy. Weirdly so. All of my jagged edges fit seamlessly with hers, like two pointy puzzle pieces. Before that, I never knew two people couldgeteach other like that.
She got along with Braden and Christian, too. Even though we were sharing her, the three of us had different relationships with our ex. Braden and her were fuck-buddies who had a powerful physical relationship, but not much emotional connection. I was on the other end of the spectrum, madly in love with her with all of my heart, with our physical relationship coming secondary. Christian was somewhere in the middle, a little bit of both.
When we all broke up a year ago, I thought that was it. That I’d been given my one chance at a perfect relationship, and now I would never find another woman who I could be myself around. But I had felt something that day I met her at the kennel, and that feeling had only grown with every encounter since then.
A feeling of hope. A feeling ofmaybe.
I wondered how Beth would shake out. I didn’t know if the two of us would mesh, and if I could allow myself to be vulnerable around her. But I knew there was a chance, and that was more than I had expected in the past year.
Enough of that. It’s time to play hockey.
The hockey season was 82 games long, not counting the playoffs. It was a marathon, not a sprint, so a lot of players tried to conserve their energy—both physical and emotional—for the long haul.
Not me. I always played tough, every period of every game, whether we were up two goals or down five. I had a reputation for that kind of passion. It’s what made me a sought-after player in free agency.
But tonight, I dug deeper than usual and put extra effort into my game. I sprinted to track down loose pucks and checked my opponents into the wall. I held nothing back. I was drenched with sweat during every player change, and guzzled Gatorade while waiting to go back out on the ice.
I didn’t have any goals to show for it, but I did have two assists—which occurred when I passed the puck to someone who then immediately scored. I also got into a gnarly fight in the third period after grazing one of the Stars players. And as luck would have it, the fight occurred right in front of where Beth and Braden were sitting. The two of them shouted enthusiasm and banged on the glass while my opponent and I threw fists. After knocking him to the ice, I skated over to the penalty box with a victorious sneer on my face.
It was nice having someone in my corner. It made me feel like I was fighting for more than just this game.
Originally, I intended to meet Beth outside after the game. But I was so pumped up from our win that I texted them and told them to meet me in the locker room. I told the security guard that I was expecting them, and then I hit the shower.
