Page 5 of Sleepless Nights and Hockey Fights

I holler at a tall redhead to get off the ice and tie her skates properly before she maims herself. I know Chloe covered proper lacing on day one. There’s no excuse for sloppy equipment in a game where razor blades are strapped to the bottoms of your feet. Eli whizzes by me again, sticking his tongue out the side of his mouth like he’s the Michael Jordan of hockey. The kid behind him tries to keep up, but hits a rough patch of ice left over from our practice. His arms pinwheel and his eyes go widein panic. I push off my right foot and get to his side just as he regains his balance.

Unfortunately, his pants don’t escape mishap. They drop, showing a pair of bright blue underwear that I could swear have Spongebob printed on the front. I don’t waste time gawking. I just reach over, yank the pants back up, and pat him on the shoulder like we’re having a chat.

“Easy there, killer. Gotta watch out for those divots. They’ll take you out every time.” I give him a stern nod, hoping I didn’t give him a wedgie in my hurry to save him from social ruin.

Eyes still wide, he turns the color of a tomato as he stares at me in horror.

I lean in. “Hey, nobody saw anything, man. You’re good. Right? You’re good?”

His barely-there Adam's apple bobs in his skinny throat, but he seems to collect himself. “Yeah.” His voice cracks so he clears it and tries again. “Thanks.”

I pat him on the shoulder some more. “Any time. Did you ever hear about the time some ass–butthole–from the Gliders pulled my pants down during warmups? He claims it was an accident, but the fu–fudger knew what he was doing. I hadn’t laced up tight yet because we were just stretching.” I shake my head when his freckled nose wrinkles and he laughs. “I got him back, though, by taking his mom to dinner that weekend and making sure the paparazzi took pictures.”

The kid’s jaw drops. “Dude. That’s epic.”

I shrug. “I probably should have let it go, but sometimes you have to pay people back when they’re rude.”

He nods sagely. “I get that.”

Chloe’s whistle breaks up our conversation and the kids skate off to form a circle for warm-ups. I stay to help out, actually enjoying myself with the kids and forgetting to even check ifCoach sees me out here. Parents arrive before I realize that much time has passed, signaling the end of practice.

One particular mom with auburn hair in a slicked back ponytail and the hottest pencil skirt I’ve ever seen catches my attention like she always does. I pretend to concern myself with collecting cones over where the mom is waiting for her son. She’s biting her bottom lip and scrolling on her phone when I get close. I can’t see her screen, but that doesn’t stop me from using it as an opening.

“No need to scroll. Just swipe right on me.”

Her head whips up and her teeth let go of her lip. I shoot her a wink, then notice how beautiful her wide eyes are. Stunning, actually. They’re hazel, with a green ring close to her pupil and an unusual golden brown everywhere else. We stand there for a few moments, both of us mute and staring. Then her cheeks stain as red as her son’s and she snaps her mouth shut.

“I...I wasn’t–you know.” She shakes her head. “Okay, bye.” She turns, her ponytail swinging around and almost hitting me in the face. I watch her go, too preoccupied with watching those full hips swing as she marches off to notice that Chloe is also watching this interaction. She sprays ice up on my pants as she abruptly stops in front of me.

“Not one of my moms, Bobby,” she warns, finger in my face.

I throw my hands in the air in a gesture of peace. “I was just being friendly.”

Chloe narrows her eyes. “Uh huh. Your definition of friendly varies widely from mine.”

I give her my best innocent aw shucks grin, the one that worked on my mother every single time us boys got in trouble. Apparently, I’ve still got it because Chloe relents and doesn’t say another word as we exit the rink and take our skates off.

I don’t bother changing to meet up with Kaitlyn at a casual restaurant just off the beaten path in downtown Tampa. She’sdue any day now with her and Benny’s first child and she said she wanted spicy Thai food to hurry things along. I don’t know what that means and I don’t want to find out. The way a woman’s body can make a baby is nothing short of a miracle, but I don’t want to see the inner workings up close and personal as she brings that life into this world.

Kaitlyn’s already seated at a table when I get there. She’s sitting sideways, her swollen feet in flip flops and propped up on another chair. One hand rubs her massive belly, and the other hand is shoveling a spring roll in her mouth. She chews and gestures for me to come over. I do, giving her a friendly pat on the shoulder and pulling out a chair opposite her.

“Am I late? I could have sworn you said six.” I place a napkin on my lap.

She swallows and then takes a big gulp of water before speaking. “Nope! Right on time. I just got hungry. I swear, this baby better come soon, or I won’t have enough room for food.”

She shoves another spring roll in her mouth, taking an obnoxiously large bite and chewing like it’s the last meal she’ll ever have. I grimace. It’s like being live at the filming of a mukbang video with the sounds that are coming out of her mouth. Are all pregnant women like this? Or is this just Kaitlyn?

“Benny says you have a plan for me?” I try to get her on task before I lose my appetite completely.

She nods and holds up a finger while still managing to maintain a grasp on what’s left of the poor spring roll. Her other hand points to her oversized bag sitting on the floor next to her. At first, I thought she was using this pregnancy to command men to do her bidding. Now that she’s further along, I see that she really can’t bend over to reach things. I rummage around and pull out a stack of papers.

“Just the top one,” she says around the food. I put the rest back and hold the top sheet between us. It’s a list in Kaitlyn’shandwriting. “Listen, you’ve screwed up one too many times with the new coach. Everyone is well aware you're the enforcer–for now–but save the fighting for the opponents who deserve it. You can't get in scuffles with your own teammates or pick fights with rookies like last season. I got a text today that Marsh has been entertaining the possibility of trading you.”

My heart dips down into my stomach. Fuck. I can’t change teams again. I finally have a team that wants me long term. Or at least I thought they did. I like the guys I play with. Hell, despite the crazy drivers, I like Tampa. I know new coaches like to make a huge splash as the new boss, flexing their muscles and laying down the law, but this is ridiculous.

“Relax, we’re not going to let that happen. Hence my list.” She motions for me to read it aloud while she eats the other half of the roll.

“Buy a home. Steady girlfriend/no bunnies. No alcohol binges/no bars. Get involved in a charity in Tampa. Stop dressing like a YouTube influencer trying to get girls. Take anger management classes. Eat vegetables daily.”

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