Page 117 of Pipe Dreams
He listened for the slice of blades against frozen water and for the slap of the puck off the boards. The crowd was a dull roar in the distance. Unimportant.
The score was tied 2–2 in the third period. His boys wanted it, though. He could see their hustle. It was going to pay off, so long as they kept it up.
There were people in his life who mattered. But during game time, they were relegated to the edges of his consciousness. A hockey game lasted a few hours, no more. When he was done here, they could have him again. Elsa. Lauren. The new baby. They’d have his full attention just as soon as this game was in the bag.
Dallas made an attempt on goal, their center rushing the net while the left wing attempted to disguise his hopes at a wrister.
Denied. He flicked it away like a bad idea.
His boys took it off his hands on the rebound and pressed it down the ice. And this time Dallas’s defense wasn’t ready. Finally,finally, Trevi sank it. And that was that—the end of the overtime period and the end of the game. They now led the series 3–2, and Dallas couldn’t close the gap.
One game closer to the Cup. One more win.
We’re still fucking in it, he told himself as his teammates swarmed after the buzzer.We’re still alive.
He liked to think he appreciated it a little more than the younger kids. Nobody knew when their number was up—not in hockey, and not in life. The best you could do was live hard and be grateful.
After the handshake line, he followed his sweaty teammates to the dressing room. He showered in a tired daze and put on his suit. Then, unfortunately, Georgia corralled him onto the dais for the press conference. There went another half hour.
The win was awesome, but if his teammates decided to do some hard drinking tonight, he was going to sneak out after the first beer. There were just two more games left in the season. Then he could spend more time with his girls.
He couldn’t wait.
Publicity finished, he walked through the mobbed hallway. Players, families, and journalists all crowded the place. He wove carefully through the crush of bodies, locked on the exit like a heat-seeking missile.
But someone grabbed his arm a few paces before he reached the door. When he turned, he saw the best sight ever. Lauren, with a smile on her face. “Hey! You came!” He grabbed her into a hug. “I thought you had to work.”
“I hitchhiked with Nate.”
“Yay!” He gave her the first kiss of the evening, and itwas every bit as happy-making as winning the game. “Let’s go,” he said, suddenly twice as impatient to leave as he’d been before.
“Are you going to ride the bus?”
He shook his head. “Let’s walk. You can catch me up on your day.” He took her by the hand and led her outside, where the street curved past a couple of restaurants and office buildings on the way to the Ritz-Carlton. “So you rode on Nate’s Gulfstream? What is that like?”
She groaned. “Well, I spent some quality time puking in the jet’s very fancy little bathroom.” She filled him in on her nausea woes.
“And I thought my day was hard,” he joked, squeezing her hand.
“Maybe it won’t last very long. I’ll ask the doctor next week.”
Next week. It sounded like the distant future. By then, the Cup would be won or lost. Although the world would keep turning on its axis either way. “Tell me about this doctor visit. Will they be able to tell us the baby’s sex?”
“Oh, I’m not going to ask.”
“What?” he stopped walking, and she turned to him with an eyebrow raised. “Seriously?”
“Sure. In the olden days, nobody knew. They survived. I don’t want to know until the baby is here and healthy.”
He snorted. “People survived in the olden days, huh? Unless they got the plague or tuberculosis. Embrace the progress, baby. I want to know if I have to repaint the nursery.”
“Hmm,” Lauren mused, squeezing his hand in hers. “That’s a good point. I suppose we’d want to repaintbeforethe baby comes.”
“Right? Paint fumes would be bad for the baby. Very bad.” He was probably overselling it, but he was desperate to know if he’d have a daughter or a son. Either one would be grand, but every new kernel of news was exciting to him.
“Okay,” she said, and his heart leapt. “Let’s paint the nursery white. That way it won’t matter.”
Beacon threw back his head and laughed. “You kill me.”
