I shouldn’t have quit when I did.
Playing hockey was my life, and for a while after Mom died, it was my lifeline. But as I got older and the rebellious teenager that lived inside me stood up, my focus turned to other places.
I wanted to hang out with friends, party, and drink.
I wanted to drown the memories of the past. Of Mom taking me to practice and sitting on the sidelines at every single one of my games.
I didn’t want to feel the heart-wrenching loss when I stepped off the ice after a defeat and she wasn’t there to hug me and tell me I did great.
Everywhere I looked, there was this huge black gaping hole in my life.
It wasn’t so bad when I was with friends, doing things I never did with her.
“Right, ladies. Warm-up drills,” Megan announces, and off they go. They’re like little rockets, so confident and strong. All I can do is stand there in the middle of them, grinning like a fool.
“How’d it go?” Parker asks as I drop into the chair opposite her and accept the Cosmopolitan she slides toward me.
“Amazing,” I say, barely able to contain my grin.
“I knew you’d smash it.”
I take a sip of my drink and reflect on the evening’s events.
“The girls are incredible. Coach Megan is awesome as well. It was weird, though, being a part of a girls’ team after everything.”
For a while after giving up, I didn’t even skate. I couldn’t; it was too painful.
But eventually, my need to be on the ice came back. I never played again, though. The closest I’ve got to the game is supporting Dad and the Vipers.
“She’d be so proud of you,” Parker says quietly.
Emotion burns the back of my throat, making my nose itch.
I know she would. Even if she’d be disappointed I quit.
“I felt her with me,” I confess.
Parker reaches across the table and takes my hand in hers, squeezing in support.
I know it sounds weird, and I’m not sure anyone who hasn’t lost someone close to them would understand.
“I kept looking around as if she was watching. It was…comforting. Like she was approving.”
“Of course she approves,” she says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
I blow out a breath and drain my cocktail.
I shouldn't. I haven’t eaten yet. But I need something to take the edgeoff.
Tonight was…unexpected in a lot of ways. But at the same time, it felt so right.
And now, we sit here surrounded by Vipers fans waiting for the game to start.
I wanted to go home and watch it in peace, but Parker refused to allow that.
She knew I’d most likely be sulking over the fact I can’t be there in person—and she’d be correct—so she insisted we come to our favorite sports bar and watch with everyone else.
“How was Sutton?” Parker asks.
