Page 89 of Like A Daydream
Jet and Ainsley had also flown in the night before, and were staying in a hotel downtown. Danielle had been surprised that they made it, considering Ainsley was so pregnant she looked like she was going to pop, but she also knew that Andrew would be happy to see them.
And Jet was going to go say hi to the team before the game, since he’d played with half of them before he’d been injured nine years ago. He also wanted to make sure that he was at Andrew’s last game, the fact that it’s the Stanley Cup Finals makes it all the more bittersweet. For both of them.
For Jet, because he’d never gotten to play in one, and for Andy because he’d never play in another.
He’d laid out his game-day arrival suit before he left, an olive-green tweed one, with a blood red tie and brown leather shoes.
She could tell that he had been starting to feel emotional, but he had offered her a smile and a kiss, and assured her that he would be okay before leaving. She and Harper are spending the day with Jet and Ainsley before they head to PNC for the game.
Jet wants to explore down town to see how it’s changed since he’d lived there, and Ainsley wants to go to some of the local spots that she’s seen on Instagram to eat. The weather is beautiful, the air is charged, and everyone in town seems to have fallen under the spell that is the Stanley Cup Finals. Danielle can feel the hope radiating off of everyone they pass on the sidewalk. They want this win.
The four of them arrive at the arena at six, parking in the reserved guest lot before heading inside to their seats. They’re in Andrew’s personal box this time, and there’s already electricity crackling in the air of the arena as fans start to trickle in. They’re in the Stanley Cup Finals for the second year in a row. There’s anticipation in the air, and the buzz of excited conversation echoing around them.
Danielle can hardly wait for the puck to drop.
Andrew:
He’s trying to keep the thought of this being in the Stanley Cup Finals out of his head as he tapes his stick. Slowly, methodically. One round after another, foot tapping against the mats on the floor that protects the blades of his skates. He finishes, sets the roll of tape down, and leans his stick against the bench as he stands up.
The locker room is silent.
It’s like last year, but at the same time, completely different. Last year, you could feel the excitement that was like a current under the pressure on everyone’s shoulders. This year it’s the weight of redemption that’s thick in the air.
They're in game five, and he doesn't want to give Florida the space to force a game six.
Andrew wants to win.
He wants to win the last game of his NHL career, score a goal if he’s lucky, and come full circle. He can almosttastethe silver of the Stanley Cup as he kisses it and hoists it in the air for a victory lap.
He can’t get ahead of himself. He has to take one minute at a time. Slow and steady until the clock goes off at the end of the third period.
Five things you can see. Four you can touch. Three you can hear. Two you can smell. One you can taste.
He’s not even sure why he ran through the grounding strategy again, when his mind is so still. Old habits die hard, he supposes, and he’d been doing this one for so long it was like second nature.
Danielle and Harper are in the boxes, waiting to watch him play, his name and number on their backs, and that’s all the grounding he needs.
Andrew stands, hits Petrov’s shoulder as he walks through the locker room towards Coach’s office. They’re on home ice tonight, which feels like divine intervention if he’s ever experienced it.
“We got this, Fishy,” Oher says as he passes him, hitting the blade of his skate with his stick as a reassurance.
“We got this,” Andrew echoes, grinning and hoping he looks more confident than he feels. He heads down the hallway, stopping outside the door.
Coach is having a meeting with the team doctor, and playing with a pen. He looks behind Doc, grins when he sees Andrew, and motions for him to come in.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Andrew says, “I just needed to talk to you, Coach.”
“We were done, anyway,” Landry replies. “Sit.”
Doc and vacates the only other chair in the office with a nod, and leaves the room.
“This feels like de ja vu,” Andrew says, “only this time I’m the one who needs to talk to you instead of the other way around.”
“How the tables have turned,” Coach replies. “What’s on your mind?”
“I’m retiring,” Andrew says. Better to rip the band-aid off. “This is my last game.”
“I’m sorry, what?” Coach asks. “You’re retiring? At the top of your game?”
