Page 92 of Behind the Bench

“You guys battled hard all game but Dallas got every lucky bounce. The hockey gods just weren’t on your side tonight.”

I hum, not wanting to beat a dead horse. No matter what he says, I’ll still find flaws in my performance. It’s something I’m working on, but bad habits are hard to break.

We pull off the exit which leads to our house, signaling that we’re about five minutes away from home. My phone buzzes in my coat pocket.

Lincoln

Your flight landed almost an hour ago. Did you make it home okay?

I huff a laugh under my breath. This man continues to surprise me.

You stalking me now, Coach?

Three dots appear then disappear, and I impatiently wait for his reply with a goofy grin on my face.

Lincoln

Just wanted to know you made it home safely.

Butterflies take flight in my stomach at the sincerity of his words. I don’t think a man has ever made me swoon like this before. The only people who have ever worried about me that way are my parents and Sadie. It’s hard to grasp the reality that Lincoln may care about me in the same way.

We’re just about to pull up our driveway. What time are you and Katie heading out in the morning?

Lincoln

I’m hoping to be on the road by seven. The weather is supposed to be perfect. I’m anticipating having to make a couple pit stops. We’ll be home in the afternoon sometime.

Drive safe. Let me know when you make it home. Good night

Lincoln

Good night, beautiful.

It was almost midnight by the time we got home last night, so I had no trouble falling asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. Thoughts of Lincoln consumed my dreams.

The smell of bacon wakes me from my blissful sleep. Stretching my arms, I reach over to check my phone and see that it’s already past nine. A message from Lincoln sits below the clock on my home screen and I swipe to read what it says.

Lincoln

Good morning, baby. We’re about to head out. I’ll text you when we stop. Hope you have a good day with your parents.

The time stamp on the text reads 7:45 a.m., which means with the time change they left even earlier than they planned. I know he won’t be coming here, but the anticipation of having him in our hometown sends those damn butterflies flying again. I feel like I’m thirteen again with my first crush. I’m constantly thinking of him and wishing he were here withme. It’s only been like twelve hours since I’ve seen him last, and I already want to see him again.

Pull it together, Montgomery.

Once I’ve rolled out of bed and put on some sweats, I follow my nose and head down the stairs hoping the delicious bacon I smell is ready. A ten-foot Christmas tree sits in front of our large bay window in the living room, exquisitely decorated with oversized red and gold bulbs and gold lights. The sight of it fills me with joy and brings a smile to my face.

I make it to the kitchen and see the excessive nutcracker collection lining the top of our kitchen cupboards, illuminated by lit up garland. My dad is standing at the stove and my mom is sipping her coffee at the kitchen table. I do my best to sneak in undetected, and it’s not until my hand reaches for a piece of bacon that they notice me. A spatula smacks my hand just as I’m about to grab one.

“We’re going to eat as a family this morning, missy. Now say hello to your mom, she’s been up since six waiting for you.”

It warms my heart to hear that my mom has been up for hours waiting for me, especially with the strain on our relationship. I grab a mug from the cupboard and pour myself a cup of coffee. My favorite creamer is already out on the counter waiting for me. I mix some in and make my way to the table.

Mom is at the head of the table where it’s easiest for her to sit in her wheelchair. She sets her mug down as soon as she sees me. She maneuvers her chair back before angling around the table and pushing toward me. Eyes that match mine light up the moment she sees me. Like my dad, she looks different too. The changes in her are subtle, a little grayer at the roots of her golden, blonde hair, and maybe a new wrinkle that wasn’t there on her cheek when I last saw her over the summer.

As quickly as I can, I set my mug on the table and leandown toward her, ready for a hug. She stretches her arms out, pulling me in for an embrace, and I let loose a breath, trying to calm the feelings that are bubbling to the surface. My face is buried in her hair, but I don’t dare to move an inch while she holds me. Emotion threatens to climb up my throat. I push it down and will my voice to work before tears can fall.

“Hey, Momma.” It comes out as a whisper but she still doesn’t let go. She starts to stroke my hair, and I think I hear her sniffle before she finally releases me.

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