“Are you saying you’re not comfortable enough with your masculinity to survive?” I laughed and he flipped me thebird.
I had a billion questions I wanted to ask Trent, but given the text had been sent during the night, it meant he was probably at home, sleeping. So I held back on my Q&A and caught a cab to thehospital.
Where was mycar?
Safe in my apartment garage. Travis had picked me up on the way to the arena when we flew out. Since it had been a long night for the team after being stuck for so long in Pittsburgh, I told him I’d just grab acab.
“Don’t you play hockey for the Rock?” the cabbie asked as we sped toward thehospital.
“Yep.” I was too tired and too excited to deal with a fan, so I stared out the window, hoping he’d get thehint.
Hedidn’t.
“Great game lastnight.”
“Thanks.”
“My son isn’t going to believe that I’m driving Josh Hoffer. He’s a huge fan. He’s ten years old and hopes to play for the NHL oneday.”
Him and thousands of otherboys.
He went on and on about his son and asked tons of questions about playing for the NHL. Were you surprised I listened to him? Don’t be. Why? Because this was the kind of man I would’ve loved to have as my father when I’d been his kid’sage.
His son wasn’t just fulfilling the cabbie’s life-long dream of playing in the NHL. The dream was completely hisson’s.
You had to respect a man likethat.
At the hospital, I stepped off the elevator on the maternity floor—not bothering to wait until the door was fully open—and walked toward the nurse’s desk. A few people in the waiting room gave me a double glance—possibly wondering why I was wearing a suit. I ignored them and asked at the desk for Holly’sroom.
Did you see that? The nurse’s expression? The wide eyes? The “O” shapedmouth?
Once she’d recovered enough to make a coherent sentence, she replied, “Are you afriend?”
“I’m herboyfriend.”
Rule #1 when it comes to social media and being an NHL player? Always be the first to post the information—that way you have a little more control over thesituation.
The team’s publicist had mentioned that to me but I had brushed itoff.
Now who felt like thedumbass?
The nurse told me which room Holly and my daughter were in, and I quietly slipped inside, doing my best not to wake them. Holly looked so peaceful, it was hard to believe she had given birth a few hoursago.
Withoutme.
I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me that I hadn’t been here for her. She didn’t blame me, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling I had failed her and ourdaughter.
After placing my luggage by the wall, I peered into the clear plastic bassinet by Holly’s bed. Andsmiled.
Looked like all the studying I had done on the Disney princesses would come in handy afterall.
Go ahead and quiz me—I took my studies veryseriously.
And gained the reputation in HDF of beingunbeatable.
Theprize?
Beer and chicken wings at Sean’s favorite sports bar. The sauce was the best freaking hot sauce on theplanet.
