“Is it like that everywhere you go?” I ask, genuinely curious to get to know this version of the man who stole my heart when we were only teenagers.
He just shrugs, trying to downplay the notoriety. I’m not sure if he’s worried I’ll get scared or if he’s just being bashful.
“Hey,” I start before pulling his hand back in mine, “I want to know all your truths, remember?”
“How could I ever forget, Sunshine?” he retorts as his face lights up with a devastating smile.
30
January
The cool, crisp air fills my lungs as I make my way around our half of the ice for warm-ups. I don’t even try to hide my smile when I spot my dad and Kenna holding Cadence against the glass by our bench.
Skating over to them, I wave animatedly at Cadence to get her to giggle and see if both of her dimples will pop. They do, and I feel like I’ve just won the Stanley Cup.
Seeing Kenna and Cadence with my number and name on their backs makes me feel invincible. I feel the need to play the best game of my career to be worthy of having them here cheering for me. I want to convince them that maybe my name shouldn’t only be on their backs but should betheirname as well someday.
As warm-ups finish up, I skate over to our bench and place my gloves against the glass where Cadence is banging on it. Kenna’s eyes widen when she sees what is stitched on my gloves—the sun and cat I’ve had embroidered into every pair of gloves since Katie passed, and the newest addition, “Ray,” is stitched on the glove.
Kenna presses her palm against the glass, and I mirror mine on the other side. I smile back at her radiant one. I swear I could look into her mesmerizing eyes for an eternity, and it’d never be enough. But that’s not an option. The moment is broken when I hear my assistant coachhollering at me to get my ass off the ice so they can resurface it before the first period.
“Good luck, Daddy!” I hear Kenna shout, and Cadence joins in, “Go, Dada!”
They’re the best motivation a man could have to play my ass off.
I’m headed to center ice for the first faceoff of the third period, and I’m feeling unstoppable. I’ve got two goals and an assist already. I don’t typically care about scoring a hat trick, but tonight would be the first of my NHL career, and I’d love nothing more than for my girls to be here to witness it.
After winning the faceoff back to Jonesy, I circle through the neutral zone and catch a pass back from him. The moment I enter the offensive zone, I deke the defense and take my open shot. I shoot a low-side blocker for the third time tonight, and it pays off.
The goal horn blares before they play our goal song, and fans’ hats are flooding the ice. My teammates attack me in a big hug at the boards.
“Atta boy, Rookie!” Jonesy shouts.
We skate to the bench and give the rest of our teammates fist bumps. The maintenance crew is still clearing hats from the ice, so I circle over to where my dad, Kenna, and Cadence are sitting.
I hold up my gloved hands and make a large heart in the air before pointing at them.
Kenna tries to hide her blush behind her hands while Cadence stands on my dad’s lap and claps her hands together.
Once the hats are cleared, we head back to center ice. I win the face-off back to Jonesy again, but this time, as I circle through the neutral zone, I’m stopped short when Arizona’s defenseman takes my legs out from under me.
My body is immediately flooded with blinding pain. My focus blurs, spots dotting my vision from the throbbing.
The athletic trainers come out to tend to me and ask me a series of questions.
“Alright, let’s get you up, Turner,” one of the trainers suggests. They help me to my feet, but I quickly realize I can’t put any weight on my right leg without searing pain radiating from my knee.
Two of my teammates are quick to give me their shoulders to help me to our bench that leads down the tunnel to our locker room.
“Fuck!” I shout as they get me into the locker room to be evaluated by the team doctor.
The team doctor just left the hospital exam room after she read the MRI results and then broke the news that I tore my meniscus in my right knee. I’ll need surgery as soon as the swelling goes down to repair it.
Thankfully, my dad was at the game tonight, and he was able to get in touch with an orthopedic surgeon he used to work with in Minnesota who specializes in complex knee surgeries. My dad assured me my meniscal tear wasn’t considered complex, but he wanted me to have the best of the best.
I asked him if he could help me get Cadence and McKenna packed up so we could take a jet back to Minnesota right away in the morning, if not tonight.
My dad and Kenna were able to figure out the logistics to get us back to Minnesota the same night. I was scheduled for surgery three days later.
