Page 74 of For the Win

I scan the ice.It’s hard to find him among all the Condors’ jerseys and helmets, but I know he’s number twenty.I spot him before I can see the number, though—I recognize the size and shape of him.“There.Number twenty.”I point.

With “Jumpman” by Drake blasting through the arena, we watch the players skate around and shoot the puck at the net.It’s been a while since I went to a live hockey game and I forgot how electric and exciting the atmosphere is.My head bobs along with the beat of the music.

I search out number thirteen for the Golden Eagles at the other end of the ice.“That’s JP, Harrison’s nephew,” I tell Janey, pointing.“He told me almost his whole family will be here tonight, since they’re playing each other.His half brother is the coach of the Eagles.”I look at the bench, but I wrinkle my nose, as I don’t know who he is.

I’ve told Janey a few things about Harrison’s big, crazy family.

Harrison takes a lap around behind the goal, and as he does so, he looks up, right at me.A smile breaks across his face, a smile big enough for me to see behind his visor, and he lifts a big gloved hand as he glides around the curve of the boards.

“He saw you,” Janey says.She bumps me with her shoulder.

“Yes.”I tamp down my urge to squeal.

The horn sounds to end the warm-up and the players slowly start leaving the ice.Harrison takes one more shot at the empty net, hitting the back of it with the puck, then hops off the ice.I think he glances my way before he disappears.

I shove popcorn in my mouth and look around the arena as we wait for the game to start.“I wonder where the rest of Harrison’s family is.Probably Everly is here.Oh, her boyfriend was out there too.I completely forgot about that.We have to watch for him when the game starts.”

“I know nothing about hockey,” Janey says.“You’ll have to tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t know that much either.I went to games in college, but that was a few years ago.”

I flip through the game-day program we were handed as we entered the section where we’re sitting.There’s Harrison, an unsmiling, official photo.He looks...fierce.

The game gets off to a fast and physical start, both teams immediately slamming each other into the boards.My eyes pop open wide when I see it’s JP hitting Harrison.“Whoa.”

Janey and I exchange looks of alarm.

They rough each other up a little bit, but it looks like...they’re smiling.Then they slap each other’s backs and skate toward their own bench.

“What was that?”I wonder aloud.

The play resumes, fierce and heated.The Condors are heading down the ice toward the Eagles net when two players collide.It happens so quickly, I’m not really sure who hit whom, but a Condor player is lying facedown on the ice.The whistle blows and every Condor on the ice converges around the Eagles player involved in the hit.There’s a lot of pushing and shoving.The refs jump in and start separating people, and a guy from the Condors bench runs over to the player on the ice.

The fans behind us are shouting to “take that motherfucker out,” I guess referring to the player who hit the Condors guy.Eeep.Bloodthirsty.

I watch, my breathing suspended, my attention darting from the guy on the ice (who I quickly determine is Scotty, dammit, I hope he’s okay) and the mêlée of players near the net.Harrison is in that mêlée, and I chomp on my lip as I observe the scuffle.Eventually things settle down, Scotty gets up and skates off, and the coach of the Condors is standing on the bench, shouting.

The ref goes over to talk to him.I have no idea what they’re saying but it’s certainly a heated discussion.On the scoreboard, a video of the hit is playing, slowed down, and the crowd roars in disapproval as we all see the hit in slow motion.The Eagles get a penalty, which makes the crowd happy, but I’m still anxious about Scotty.He’s on the bench, bent over, shaking his head.

“I hope he’s okay.”

“I forget that you know all those guys now.”Janey leans into me.

“I know.I’m not sure this is good.I might have a heart attack before the game is over.”

“It’s really physical,” Janey says.“I love it!”

The Condors score a goal on that power play, so yay!It’s a goal by the young kid, Edvin Rintala, assisted by Harrison and Olle Larsson.Janey and I high-five each other as the fans cheer around us, nearly blowing the roof off the Coliseum.

I’m watching Harrison more than I’m watching the game.Even when he’s on the bench, I’m fascinated, seeing one of the trainers hand him a towel so he can wipe down the inside of his visor, lean into the guy next to him—Nicky, I think—and gesture as they talk intently, then leap to his feet when his team gets control of the puck and flies toward the Eagles’ goal.

The red light goes on, the horn blasts, the crowd cheers, and Harrison is celebrating with his teammate on the bench.

Seeing him like this reminds me of the day I watched him practice and decided I’d go out with him.He’s so engaged in everything that’s happening, so focused, and clearly very damn talented when he’s on the ice.

And yet, off the ice...he’s kind.Gentle.Thoughtful.Maybe a little overeager in some respects, but not aggressive.I want to believe that.I want to trust my instincts about him.

* * *

---