Alec and the center of the other team—number 22, Rit Hamonson—head to the ref, who’s waiting for the puck drop.
Alec and Hamonson lower their sticks slightly in anticipation. The ref blows the whistle, and the puck slaps the ice. Alec’s and Hamonson’s sticks attack the puck, fighting to get possession.
Alec manages to kick it out to Cam, and they take off. The puck slides into the zone not a second before our boys do.
Jack cheers and throws his hands into the air. Suddenly, he falls forward, crashing into the hard plastic back of the seat in front of him.
His cry pierces my heart, and I drop to the cold concrete, scooping him up into my chest as he cries.
“Shh, baby, it’ll be okay,” I tell him, rocking him back and forth.
Jack’s cries wither away.
I glance up, instinctively looking to find Alec on the ice.
It’s mid-play. Cam passes it to Reed, who weaves between two Mystics forwards. Reed glides into the right wing, Alec close behind him. Reed digs into the ice, winds his stick up, and swings. But no puck goes flying. On the swing back, Reed passes the puck right to Alec.
And Alecmissesit.
Because Alec isn’t watching Reed or the puck. He’s standing straight up, looking right at me. His eyes seem to be locked on to mine. And I can see the worry in how he’s standing—alert, straight up with his chest huffing in and out as he watches Jack in my arms.
The man in a suit on the Nighthawks bench shouts at Alec, “What in the fuck was that?! KOSTELECKY!”
Coach immediately turns, trying to find what has his captain so distracted.
When his gaze passes over me, it continues on to the next person only for a second. Then, it darts back to me. His eyes narrow, and his lips curl.
Another player pulls his attention back to him, and the game continues.
The next few possessions have no effect on the score. And the remainder of the first period is just as eventful. The crowd boos Alec as the Nighthawks head to the locker room.
Jack turns to me with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. “I want to be on the ice one day in the NHL, just like dad.”
It’s amazing how oblivious young children can be to their surroundings sometimes. Maybe not exactly like Alec right now. He’s probably just warming up. Although the anxiety creeping into my chest is wondering if his head is off right now, maybe being here is too much of a distraction for him.
“I think you can do anything, but it’s going to take years of work, Jack,” I say to him, running my fingers through his somehow already-messy hair.
He gives me that know-it-all look. “I know, Mom.”
Char bumps my shoulder with her own. “Want to grab a bite?”
My stomach grumbles, as if on cue.
I nod back to her and lean to see Josh. “You want anything? I’m going to leave Jack here.”
He just smiles at me. “I’m good, thanks!”
“All right, we’ll be right back,” I shout to him over the noise.
Charlotte and I make our way to the concessions and join the never-ending line. It moves surprisingly fast, and before we know it, we are already in our seats, and the second period is beginning.
The start is slow, no goals on either end. With minutes remaining in the period, one of the Mystics players gets a two-minute penalty for boarding Reed. Charlotte almost loses it. And Alec skates right up to the offender who checked Reed.
The smile stretched on Alec’s face is all menace. I know who just became his target. The refs skate over the second Alec approaches.
It quickly fizzles out, although I’m not so sure the tension between Alec and the Mystics player did.
And with ten seconds left, Hamonson sneaks a goal right past Matt.