Page 110 of Play Along With Me
My cat blinks at me with his usual inscrutable expression, but I swear there's a hint of approval in his feline gaze. Or perhaps that's just another symptom of my current delusional happiness—projecting romantic endorsement onto a creature whose primary emotional attachments are to his food bowl and the patch of sunlight on the living room floor.
Either way, as I head out the door toward my mundane job and the promise of seeing Jake later, I find myself humming under my breath—some pop song about new love that would have made me roll my eyes a week ago but now feels like it was written specifically for this moment, this feeling, this inexplicable lightness of being.
If this is what falling feels like, I think I might be okay with the landing, whatever it may bring.
Chapter 16
Five Months Later
Five months. That's how long it's been since I was called up from Providence as the Saints' backup goalie. Five months of practices, games, travel, and steadily increasing ice time as Ambroz's backup. Five months of proving myself at hockey's highest level. Five months of building something real with Audrey that I never saw coming.
And now, on a crisp late June morning after the playoffs have concluded and the Stanley Cup has been awarded (not to us, unfortunately—Tampa Baltics took it in six games), I'm walking into the Saints' front office at Warrior Ice Arena for a meeting that could change everything.
The text from Justin Loren, the team president, had been brief but unmistakable: "10 AM tomorrow. My office. Good news."
I know what this means. Ambroz announced his plans to return to Finland two weeks ago, a move that surprised the hockey world but not those of us inside the organization. At thirty-five, with a nagging hip injury and twins on the way, he'd been dropping hints about wanting to finish his career in his homeland for months.
Which left a starting goaltender position open, exactly when my "audition" period as backup had shown the organization everything they needed to see.
Still, knowing what's coming doesn't make it any less surreal as I walk through the familiar glass doors, nodding to the security guard who's long since stopped asking for my ID.
"Big day, Marshall?" he asks with a knowing smile.
"We'll see, Tony," I reply, though I can't suppress my own smile.
The elevator ride to the executive floor feels longer than usual. I check my reflection in the mirrored walls, adjusting my tie slightly. Audrey picked it out this morning—Saints colors, naturally, but subtle enough to look professional rather than like an overeager fan. "Power tie," she'd called it, straightening it with a confidence that belied her complete lack of hockey knowledge five months ago.
When the doors open, Cam's assistant waves me straight through to his office, where I find not just Cam but GM Ronald Geft and goaltending coach Tom Kelly waiting.
"Jake," Cam stands, extending his hand. "Right on time. Have a seat."
I shake hands with all three men, trying to keep my expression professionally neutral despite the adrenaline coursing through my system.
"I won't keep you in suspense," Cam says once we're all seated. "We've been impressed with your performance this season. Twenty-four games played, .921 save percentage, 2.34 goals against average. Solid stats for a backup, especially one stepping into the NHL midseason."
"Thank you, sir," I say, mentally thanking the years of media training that help me maintain my composure.
"With Ambroz returning to Finland," Don continues, "we've been evaluating our options for the starting position next season."
Kelly leans forward. "The improvement in your game since January has been remarkable, Jake. Your positioning, your puck handling, your communication with the defense—all significantly better than when you arrived."
"I've had good coaching," I acknowledge with a nod to Kelly, who's spent countless extra hours working with me throughout the season.
"Bottom line," Cam says, sliding a folder across the desk, "we'd like to offer you a three-year contract as our starting goaltender."
Even though I was expecting it, actually hearing the words sends a jolt through me. I open the folder, my eyes immediately finding the numbers that confirm this isn't just a professional milestone but a life-changing financial one as well.
"This is... generous," I manage, taking in the salary figures—a massive step up from my current two-way contract.
"It's market value for a starting goalie with your potential," Don says matter-of-factly. "We're betting on your continued development, of course, but what we've seen this season gives us confidence."
"We'll be bringing in a veteran to back you up," Kelly adds. "Someone who can push you but also mentor you through the transition to being the guy everyone's counting on. It's a different kind of pressure."
"I understand," I nod, having witnessed firsthand how Ambroz handled the mental aspects of being the last line of defense for an Original Six franchise with championship expectations.
"Any questions before we make this official?" Cam asks.
I have a thousand questions, actually, but they're all variations of "Is this really happening?" which seems unprofessional to ask. Instead, I go with: "When would you want to announce?"
