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I nod, pondering who my father entrusted with the care of my son. And how many people actually know he has a daughter and grandson?
Caleb gives me a kiss and wiggles his way between us.
“I’m sorry Coach pawned him off on you. How do you know my… coach?”
She pushes her glasses up to the bridge of her nose. “I’m working on my PhD in kinesiology, so I’m hanging out with the hockey team.” Her voice is soft and unassuming.
“Oh, wow. That’s impressive.” She shrugs her shoulders. “How long have you been working with them?”
“A couple of months.”
“Thanks for watching Caleb until I got here.”
“He’s a sweetie and knows a tremendous amount about dinosaurs.” She chuckles to herself.
“Obsessed doesn’t begin to describe his dinosaur fascination.”
I peer over at my dad standing in the coach’s box, talking to his assistant. His arms are folded over his chest and occasionally, he makes hand gestures towards the players.
Warmups are over, and I have to admit, I’ve missed this. The smell of the arena. The crisp air inside. Watching the players do their groin stretches. And instantly, my mind wanders to Reed. What would it be like to be underneath him as he pumped into me?
The game begins, and the other team wins the face off. The crowd yells when one of our defensive men steals the puck and passes it to our left wing.
It’s back and forth for the first period but still tied at zero. Caleb needs snacks to stay awake, so the three of us go down to concessions for popcorn and candy.
By the time we return, Dad shuffles in a different line. They’re fresh and hopped up on energy. You can see it in the bounce of their skates.
I realize this is the first time in my life that I’ve been to a hockey game where the only person I know is my dad. My life used to be spent with his players. When I was a pre-teen with braces, his college players would play goalie, and I would try to score. When I was fully developed at sixteen, the players flirted with me, especially when I was in my figure skating clothing, similar to the way Reed reacted to me in my leotard.
And in college, I was finally old enough to date his players, but wow, did I pick the wrong one.
The Stallions winger grabs my attention. He skates flawlessly like he’s one with his blades. His finesse reminds me of a figure skater but with immense power. He’s the same player that made my breath catch when he was stretching out his groin. Everything he does looks intentional. And when his line is taken out, I find myself staring at him.
Hockey is a fast-paced game, and lines come in and out all the time, but the game seems to drag without him. Finally, my dad puts inhisline again and when they switch out, the mysterious left winger skates in a big circle to the side where I’m sitting before looking up in the stands.
His gaze seems to be on me, but why? I glance over each shoulder, seeing if he has a puck bunny blowing him kisses. But only middle-aged people are sitting behind me. Possibly his parents.
He gets into the action and after four minutes, the right winger passes to the center. He passes it back, then there is a flurry of activity as the opposing team wrestles the puck away but loses control, and our left winger executes a no-look pass to the center. The center drives in, shoots, and the puck bounces off the metal bar. Out of nowhere, number nine slides the puck around the back of the goal and flicks the puck into the back of the net. The buzzer sounds, and the crowd erupts.
Caleb jumps up and down with the rest of us, thoroughly awake from the candy and the energy zooming through the arena.
The Stallions gather around him, offering pats on the helmet and words of congratulations. As the game resumes, one of the opposing team's defensive players trips him with their stick.
With "Bauer" emblazoned across his broad shoulders, he rises slowly before charging towards his opponent, engaging in a fierce conflict. The atmosphere is electric and when Bauer’s helmet is knocked off, my heart stops.
That is Reed. My Reed. The Reed whose lips controlled and enveloped me. Reed plays hockey. For my dad. My luck never changes.
Punches are thrown, and both players sit in the penalty box for the rest of the game. He shakes his head, and his eyes lock onto mine from across the rink. It’s intense. He must think I knew he was a hockey player and assumes I’m here to watch him play. Reed looks ten shades beyond angry. Like I’m stalking him or that I lied to him.
I don’t realize that Kandy has Caleb on her hip.
When the game is over, he goes straight into the tunnel. He doesn’t shake hands with the other team or the referees.
Quickly, I collect Caleb in my arms and make a mad dash to my car. I need to get Caleb in bed and away from hockey.
Chapter Thirteen
REED
