Page 18 of Hat Trick
"I've never had someone who could wear my jersey. But I have you now. Even if we're just friends...I'd really love to know you're wearing it. It'll motivate me on the ice."
I relent, smiling up at him and he grins back at me triumphantly. He knows I'm a fan first and the idea of helping our team win is too tempting for me to resist.
"Fine," I grumble, taking the jersey. "But I'm wearing it under my jacket. We don't need Gabe blowing a gasket or the media wondering if I'm the next Mrs. Tavares."
The grin he shoots back at me is blinding. And contagious.
"No, of course not," he murmurs before kissing my hair and following the other boys out the door. I sigh as I watch their black SUV back out of the driveway.
At the stadium, I drop Annie and a few of her favorite toys off with Margaret. It's a late game so I know she's only got about half an hour before she'll be tired and the stadium is too loud for her to sleep, even wearing noise cancelling headphones.
Luckily, Annie takes to Margaret in an instant and I'm relieved to know she won't be scared when I leave her. I make small talk with Margaret, who checks in to make sure my time as Carter's new nanny is going well. I assure her it is and excuse myself to go meet my brother and Dad at our seats.
Settling in, I marvel at just how close we are. There's a plexiglass partition separating us, but besides that I could reach out and touch a player. I've been to dozens of hockey games but never sat this close.
After a round of hugs and greetings to my dad and Sam, the lights dim, and the opening show starts. The light show and music only amplify the already electric energy emanating from the crowd. It's stillearly in the season, so no one really has hopes for the cup, but hockey fans have gone long enough without their favorite sport and they're ready for some action.
"You'll have to thank your boyfriends for me for the seats." Dad says darkly.
I shake my head. "They're just my friends, Dad."
"Sure they are," he mutters, his eyes fixed on the ice. "How many 'friends' does it take to get seats like these?" Dad's been like this since Mom left. Angry, bitter. I don't know if he was like this before, too, but maybe mom protected me from the worst of it? But after she left it was like he could only see everything he hated about her in me.
I swallow hard, trying to ignore the sting of his words. "It's not like that. They just wanted to do something nice."
The arena buzzes with energy, but his words cling to me, heavy and unwelcome.
"Mhm. I'm sure." The meaning behind his words is clear - he thinks I'm sleeping with them. He's always made comments about how I look, how I dress. He's convinced my mom left him for someone else. And maybe she did. His low opinion of her has created a low opinion of me.
I shake my head. I won't engage with him. It never gets better. The more we talk, the more he drinks, the meaner his words get. I'm glad my brother is sitting between us and we can just watch the game.
The arena's freezing, so I wore my thick jacket, with a hat and scarf. I tuck my hands in my pockets when I'm not drinking my beer to keep warm.
One by one, the boys are announced and they enter the ice from the tunnel. I've never been more excited. Of course I've been to games,and watched almost every other one on TV, but knowing Carter, Luca and Gabe now like I do now makes me even more invested in them. My stomach churns with anxiety, hoping they have a good game, that they don't fight, or if they do fight that they win.
Finally, the entire team's on the ice doing warmups. Gabe is crazy impressive. He's a large man normally, with thick thighs and broad shoulders but his bulky equipment makes him seem even larger. With his blockers and pads you would think he'd be clumsy or slow, but he's graceful, strong, in control. He skates well, and I spend far too long watching him do hip thrusters and pulse while doing the splits.
Luca skates up to where we are sitting, on the other side of the plexiglass, before reaching out his fist to fist bump my dad and Sam through the plexiglass. My dad and Sam return the gesture, smiling. I smile and roll my eyes at the men next to me acting like fangirls. Luca slides to his right and locks his eyes with mine, a game-day intensity making his blue eyes sparkle. It's enough to take my breath away. He tugs at his jersey - a silent question to me. My cheeks warm as I blush. I bite my lower lip before nodding. He throws both arms in the air, letting out a whooping sound, before spinning in a circle on the ice and shooting me a wink.
My stomach vibrates with nerves and excitement. It feels naughty, or forbidden, this intimate secret between Luca and me. It makes me feel like we're kids sneaking into the cookie jar. One that Gabe doesn't want us to have.
"What was that?" My dad asks, leaning over towards me. Everyone in the rows around us is staring at me and whispering, wondering the same thing.
"Just an inside joke, ya know, between friends?" I offer, hoping I sound convincing. Whether I'm convincing or not, my dad leans back and let's it go.
Gabe skates up to plexiglass before banging into it to stop himself, causing me to jump. He stares at me, and I stare back, unmoving, unflinching. We haven't talked since the night I slapped him. I've been avoiding him like the plague, walking on eggshells in case he decides to tell Carter and get me fired. But I know a challenge when I see one. He wants me to break our eye contact first, to cave. I stare straight into his dark eyes, unblinking. Finally, he cracks a grin, winks, and skates off again to start the game.
"Another inside joke?" My brother asks. I press my cold hands into my hot cheeks to bring down their temperature.
"Yeah, something like that."
The puck drops and I'm lost in hours of vicious game play. My heart beats against my chest bone, anxious and full of nerves and I'm not even playing. How the boys do this several times a week without doing long term damage to their heart or nerves, I have no idea. Every slap of a stick, every pass, every attempt at the net presses my heart into my throat. My dad and Sam are equally as spun up, joining me in shouting in victory when we score a goal and in outrage when the ref misses a call or one of our boys gets slammed into the boards.
Gabe misses a goal. A defender was in his line of sight, so he didn't see when number 33 on the other team faked, juked and slammed the puck past him into the top left corner of the net.
My heart sinks for him. I may not like him. He may not like me. But I hate the idea that he's feeling upset or sad or angry with himself. He just brushes it off, hits the posts with his stick and gets his head backin the game. I know they work with sports psychiatrists to help them with disappointment and staying focused, but losing never feels good.
Luca and Carter play amazingly, the chemistry between them obvious on the ice. I'm a little in awe that these three men are my roommates, and at least Carter and Luca are my friends. I'm impressed, proud, and so grateful.
