“But I put her on my back and showed her what it felt like to fly on the ice. Coach, the sneaky bastard, timed me. I beat my best time with her on my back. I wasn’t thinking about thescouts, about making it into the NHL, about anything but how it felt to fly with the wind in my face, the cold, and the smell of the ice. I just skated for me. And that’s what we do today. We skate for us. Or in your case, Carson, you block every puck. Don’t think about anything but the game and why you love letting people throw pucks at your face at the speed of light. Why do you love that anyway?”
He shrugs, his messy blond hair falling into his face as he does. “My dad played goalie in high school. It’s what he knew and what he taught me. I’ve tried other positions, but I always come back to this. I’m good at it.”
“Family tradition, then.” Collin nods and slaps him on the back. “Good enough.”
We finish suiting up and then go to stand in line with the rest of the team waiting for them to announce us.
I say a silent prayer and then put on my game face.
Daisy
Why am I even here? I’m miserable even with all my layers and a steaming cup of hot chocolate in my hands. My teeth chatter and I pull the soft Sherpa wool jacket tighter around me. Jenny loaned it to me when she found out I was going to the game and that I was sick. I forgot her boyfriend is on the team too. So now here I am sitting between her and Christa, while they chat and I do my best to stay warm.
“You good?” Christa asks after a few minutes.
“Yeah. Just cold.”
“You get used to it.” Jenny takes a sip of her own hot chocolate. “I got sick the first time I came to a game too. I didn’trealize how cold it would be. Dylan warned me, but I wasn’t expecting it to be this cold.”
“Yeah. It slaps you in the face when you come in.” I sip the hot drink in my hands. “Why do they willingly come here for hours every day?”
Jenny laughs. “They love the game.”
“Hutch pulled me in here yesterday in jean leggings, a t-shirt, and a hoodie.”
“Girl, that wasn’t enough layers. No wonder you woke up sick as a dog.” She shakes her head. “You have to have several layers and a good coat. Some of the girlfriends and puck bunnies brave the cold and wear skintight short skirts and barely there shirts with no coat.” She points behind us and I glance over.
Sure enough, there’s a section full of women decked out in hooker gear and their faces are covered in so much makeup, I’m not sure what they actually look like. Don’t get me wrong. Any guy looking for a night with a hot chick, that’s where it’s at. Theyarehot. Tight, slim bodies, but all their assets are on display. Why would a man pay for milk when he gets the cow for free as Nana used to say. I shake my head and turn back to my friends.
“I’m freezing just looking at them.” A shiver rolls through me and I sneeze into my tissue. “I should have stayed home.”
“Hutch doesn’t invite girls to his games.” Christa looks out over the ice.
“So?”
“So, he not only invited you to his game, he went out and got you medicine.”
Christa nods like Jenny’s words mean something. Deep down, part of me knows itdoesmean something, but I brush it aside. Not happening.
“He’s being nice and superstitious at the same time.”
Christa tells Jenny about mine and Hutch’s adventure last night when I sneeze. I really shouldn’t be here, but he seemed so hopeful. He’s been so nice to me and I couldn’t say no.
“So you’re Daisy.”
I glance up when I hear the woman sitting a little ways down say my name. She’s older. In her early forties maybe? Her brown hair is up in a bun on her head and she’s suited up in a warm jacket and jeans. Her eyes catch my attention, though. They’re the same shade as Hutch’s.
“I’m Kathleen, Jonathan’s mother,” she says and scoots down until she’s next to Christa.
“Who?” we all ask.
She laughs softly. “Hutch. His name is Jonathan Wayne Hutchinson.”
“Oh, nice to meet you,” I say and scrunch up my nose to stop the sneeze. “How do you know my name?”
“Jonathan told me about you yesterday. He said he invited you to the game so I switched shifts at work to meet you cause Lord knows when that boy would bring you by. Though I did give him a two week deadline to bring you to the house for supper.”
“Uh…” What do I say to that? “I barely know him.”
