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I can’t completely shut Otto and Nora out of my thoughts, and every time someone walks into the arena, I brace for them to pull me off the ice because something’s happened.
Vsev skates up and claps me on the back.
“Theyfine,” he assures me in his still slightly broken English. Vsev is a total family man with a brood of kids of his own, so I want to believe him.
“Guess you’ve been through it a few times.”
He nods, grinning wide. “It hard to leave the babies when they are new. But this practice is good. Not just for the skate, but to keep head on ice.” He grabs my helmet, bringing it in to bump his. “You got this.”
Not yet, but I will. I skate hard, work with the trainers, and have a meeting with the team therapist, which I never think is going to make a difference but always does.
Saturday’s game is brutal. The first period, I get scored on because my timing was a fraction of a second off. All I can think about is Nora agreeing to have the game on so Otto could get used to the sounds, and this is what I give them?
Not. Happening. Again.
Second period, I’m back. No more fuckups.
I’m all over the offense, working with Diesel to shut down any look they get.
Third period, breakaway. I fly down the ice and fire. The lamp lights up, and I rock back on my skates, pumping my fist once as the crowd goes nuts.
It feels good. And it feels even better when, six minutes later, we close out the game with a win.
But once we’re off the ice, there’s another mental shift toward home.
I don’t fuck around in the shower or hang out with the guys, instead clearing out as soon as Coach is through with me.
When I get back, Nora is parked in the deep chair by the window, her laptop open on the coffee table in front of her and Otto sleeping in her arms. Peaceful. Perfect.
“You didn’t have to wait up,” I say, dropping my bag and crossing to her to take Otto’s limp little weight into my arms.
“Well, one of us didn’t. I kept the game on with the sound low, but loud enough that we could hear it.” She hesitates but then smiles as she gets up. “Nice job tonight.”
Ahh. Not sure she wanted to give up the praise.
I’ll call that another win.
“That first period was a little rough.” I give Otto’s cheek a kiss and hold him against my chest.
“But it came together. You looked good.”
I’m surprised she watched. “Thought you weren’t into hockey.”
She raises a single shoulder and heads for the kitchen. “Well, my date for the evening was. And while I hate to admit it, I may have watched a few games here and there since moving in.”
I shouldn’t like hearing it as much as I do.
She fills a couple glasses of water and hands one to me.
I’m beat but also jacked from the win. Not quite ready for bed.
Nora leans against the sink and drinks, her throat moving as she swallows. The whiteboard is directly past her, and I see that she’s added a few more qualifications.
“‘Must love hockey. But not too much.’” I pat Otto’s bum. “How are we going to measure that?”
She looks to the board and wags her head, the motion sending a few soft waves down around her face.
Her hair’s so pretty, and when we’re standing here like this in the quiet of the apartment, just the three of us, I have to remind myself not to reach out and touch it. Hell, I shouldn’t even look at it.
