Page 34 of Hockey Halloween
With a renewed sense of triumph, I clear away anything unrelated to what’s happening on the ice.
And when I’m back on for my next shift, another goal solidifies our win. With less than thirty seconds to play, unless we fuck up, the victory is ours.
The buzzer sounds, and cheers erupt from the bench and the stands. I glance up at where Delia sits. She’s wearing the hoodie she “borrowed” after the Halloween party. It’s huge on her, but damn if it doesn’t suit her perfectly.
Later tonight, instead of an assist, I’ll go for the goal.
Once the game is over and I’m showered, I amble to the lobby, my eyes searching for Delia. When our gazes lock, a smile erupts. It never gets old, seeing her excited at my presence. She’s the first person ever to not treat me for my past but my present. Of course, she doesn’t know everything about my past, but she knows enough, and probably the most a “stranger” is ever going to know.
She runs and leaps into my arms, something else that won’t ever get old. My very own cheerleader. I don’t even care she’s been to other games or that she might come even if not for me. It’s my name on her back for all the world to see.
“Astounding assist to goal number three.” She always starts with a positive, which I appreciate. Because the assist was astounding.
“Thanks.”
She leans in, her breath hot on my neck. “You’ll never guess what I’ve got under my sweatshirt.” She pulls away with a brow waggle.
“You’ll show me later.”
We’re interrupted by former player Ezra Hamilton, his girlfriend Ayla, and his younger sister Olive. “Good game,” he touts, reaching his hand out to me.
I set Delia on the ground and give it a shake. “Thanks.” I crouch to Olive’s level. “Well, how was it?” She’s a new fan of the sport, and Ezra tries to bring her to as many games as he can since he no longer plays.
“Racked up more time in the penalty box.”
“It’s hockey, kid.” I don’t mention one penalty is good for me.
“You’re fast on your feet. Even Ezra says so.”
“Thanks.”
“But maybe tone down your attitude a bit. Don’t want to get into too much trouble, right?” She shrugs, and I can’t help but laugh.
“So true, Olive. So true.”
We’re joined by the Aspenridge rink manager, Walsh Keeley, and his daughter, Lennon. “Squirt, Olive here was giving me the rundown of the game. Got any notes for me?” Another hockeylover, she’s been our official team mascot since she was a toddler and her dad played. She’s eight going on thirty.
“I do. You might want to sit down. There’s a lot.” Her tone is as unshakable as a mountain.
A collective laugh rises from the group gathered, and her father rolls his eyes, muttering something under his breath.
“Can I get a rain check? I’ve got dinner plans.”
“We do?” Delia squeals.
I nod, tucking her against me. “Meat for you, jelly roll for me.”
Red blooms instantly on her cheeks. So maybe it’s a little crass, and maybe there’s a dinner at a restaurant waiting too, but first, we need to celebrate the win.
Lennon’s face scrunches and she gags. “Jelly. Blech.”
“Guess it’s meat for you, Squirt.”
Keeley narrows his eyes at me, and it’s my cue to get the hell out of dodge.
“Until next time, folks. Me and my pumpkin have other pressing matters.”
Delia looks up at me, a raise of her brow at my term of endearment. I get it. Our relationship barely has wheels, but still. She’s mine.
