Page 48 of Love of the Game
Muscles in my back unlocked. “Thank you, sir.”
I caught a nap in my apartment to make up for the lack of sleep. There was a lot adrenaline could do, but nothing really beat having enough rest and recovery under your belt.
When I woke, there was a text from Jon.
Took care of everything. Have a good game. ??
Man. I still felt a little bad about missing out on dinner with him on his birthday. I was so damn lucky he understood. I shot off a quick text back:
Love you too. Everything’s good here.
Then I was into my suit and heading back to the area for tonight’s game. Turned out I wasn’t on the third or fourth line tonight, but the second—as I had been last year. And on the second unit for the power play. “Can you handle that, kid?”
“You bet, Coach.”
My teammates slapped me on the back, and we got situated in the hall to head out onto the ice for warmups. I never really cared where I was in the line, but I loved all theyelling, chest thumping and crazy rituals that went on before we skated out. It was loud and felt like…home. Like I belonged here.
When I burst out onto the ice for warmups, there was a smattering of cheers from the crowd. I took a lap and was shocked to see several signs welcoming me back, either with my name, number, or a picture of a duck.
It wasn’t those signs that had me nearly falling over my skates. As it was, I transitioned backward and rammed into the boards close to the goal in shock.
It was a simple sign. Black capital letters written in Sharpie on white cardstock:
DRAGON: PUCK FOR A DINNER DATE?
Holding the sign against the glass was the person I least expected to see here, and he was grinning his thousand-watt smile, eyes twinkling like stars in the bright arena lights.
Jon. JonnyfuckingEriksson.
Gavin skated up next to me in the corner and stick handled a puck. “Dragon, huh?” He was smiling.
“I’m going to kill him,” I muttered, then grabbed an errant puck and tossed it over the glass to Jon, who deftly caught it. Somehow, his toothy grin widened, which I didn’t think was possible. I gave the glass a fist bump, then got back to warming up, my face more than a little warm under my helmet.
I hoped my visor didn’t fog up.
The looks my teammates gave me varied from confused to amused. Luckily, there was no anger. Then again, Brodie and a couple others wouldn’t have stood for it.
When we got back to the locker room after warmups, it was Brodie (who was wearing an A tonight) who put hishands on his hips and gave me a look. “Got something you want to tell us,Dragon?” He was smiling almost as brightly as Jon had been.
Well, there was no sense in beating around the bush. “Uh, I’m dating Jon Eriksson?”
That got me a bunch of cheers and pats on the back.
“Damn,” Brodie said. “He’s a looker.”
Gavin laughed. “I’ve never actually seen him that happy before.”
I whirled around. “What? He’s always happy! It’s his natural state of being!”
That had Dimitri Vasileiou, our backup goalie, snorting. “No, no, Silky’s right. Jonny’s happy, sure, but that?” He shook his head. “What did you do to him?”
“Whoa, whoa,” Cutts said. “Don’t need the details.”
I covered my face with my hands. “I’m really gonna kill him.”
Coach Robinson shook his head. “Gotta fucking send Mac a bottle of scotch.” He cleared his throat to get our attention. “If you boys are done? You’ve got a game to play against a pretty tough opponent…”
I was grateful for the shift in the spotlight, though I did get a few “Hey, congrats” comments before we headed back out onto the ice. After that, everything was a focused whirl of action.
