Page 60 of Slapshot
He grins that boyish smile that makes me want to drag him into the equipment room and hide out forever. It also makes me believe that I’m capable of getting through tonight, no matter how nervous I am. One minute I want to block out the rest of the world and the next I want to conquer it. With Lex, I feel capable of both.
I’m crazy about him. I haven’t told him, of course. I’ve been burned too many times by putting my cards on the table first. Lex isn’t like anyone else I’ve ever dated, but if he knew how hard I’m falling for him, would he subconsciously pull away? Being the one that cares the most in a relationship is scary. You have everything to lose and none of the leverage.
“Good luck out there tonight. With Donnie hurt, you might see more playing time.”
He nods. “Yeah, I know. I made Pax get here two hours early to go over some stuff. I think I’m ready.” His face goes serious and I can see the nerves wash over him. “I should probably go watch some tapes or—”
“Wait,” I stop him. “You got this. Have fun. Be the guy that was kicking my ass on the ice, having fun with his buddies. The twins are great together, not because they’re both super talented but because they’re comfortable together. They sink into a rhythm with each other, an ease that keeps their heads clear.”
He nods thoughtfully. “I have so much more to prove.”
“And you will.” I grab him by the jersey and kiss him.
“Knowing your dad is going to be here freaks me out a little.”
“Why?”
“Because he’s your dad.”
“Do you want me to call him? See if the great Declan Dalager has some better advice for you?”
“No,” Lex says through a laugh. “I’m only interested in what the great Kaitlyn Dalager has to say. But if I have a bad game can you just tell him you’re dating a frat guy or something?”
It’s sort of cute, if not foolish, that Lex thinks I’d confide in my dad about my dating life at all or give his thoughts on anyone I cared about any weight.
“Hit the shower, twenty-three.” I stand to get back to work. “Havefun.”
When it’s finally time to go out to the bench, I’m as nervous as the boyfriend I told to lighten up an hour ago. Way more nervous than I ever have been about this job before.
I don’t have to search for my dad at all, he’s sitting in VIP seats next to the bench. He’s talking with the women’s hockey coach, hands shoved in his suit pants, laughing—totally comfortable in his skin. Even at forty-four, he looks good and has that young, cocky way about him.
Everyone is aware of him. The players whisper and glance over at him, the crowd behind him watches. This is what it’s like when my dad is in the same room—all the attention is on him. I know he doesn’t purposely do anything to bring the focus to him, but I still hate it. He’s dad—goofy, terrible jokes, can’t cook, workaholic dad.
It’s been years since he played hockey, and still, that’s the only identity people see him with. If I were inclined to feel bad for him, that would be the area that I think is the saddest. The man has built an amazing company and still it’s what he did twenty years ago that people want to talk about.
Lex skates by and winks at me. He makes a point not to look at my dad, and I like him even more for that.
When the puck drops, everyone finally turns their attention to the game. Including me. Lex sits on the bench holding his stick, knee bouncing, a determined set to his handsome jaw.
Donnie is out with a hamstring pull and Lex has a good chance to get more playing time. He’s good enough. I know he is. Coach Keller wouldn’t have recruited him, and I’d like to think I’ve seen enough hockey in my day to know when someone has what it takes. I’m also aware that might be the hearts in my eyes speaking. I don’t think so though.
The second line comes off and Lex goes in with the third. He’s so fast. Every pump of his legs is a sprint. All out. Just like he does everything. Maine is putting up a hell of a defensive effort. Lex and Hudson each get a look at the net, but both are denied by the goalie.
I’m focusing on Lex and miss how it happens but suddenly all eyes are on me.
“He needs a new stick!” Pax shouts.
I finally see Tate and his broken stick on the ice. He starts toward the bench and I grab a backup and rush forward. Tate skates by and grabs it just as Maine gets possession and sends the puck down. Tate pivots and pushes off to retrieve it before the other team can and I feel like I’m going to puke. Every second counts here.
Maine’s center is breaking away and our bench holds their breath. When the ref stops play for hooking, the team lets out a relieved sigh and I finally take a breath. Adrenaline makes my heart race.
“Nice job,” Coach Garfunkle says as I’m handed the broken pieces of Tate’s stick. “That was close.”
Way too close.
18
Lex
