Page 63 of Hot Puck
“Dammit. We need to make her go down there.”
“We will. Give her a few minutes of game time and I bet she’ll be racing out of here. Especially now Drew’s second favorite person in the world is here.”
Oakley grins. “He really does love his grandpa.”
“Grandpa loves him right back.”
“You know, I never saw us doing this with kids.”
“Me either, but here we are.”
“And I definitely didn’t see you with three of them!” Oakley laughs.
“I don’t have three.”
“Yeah, you do. I don’t know what’s really going on, but you definitely have three kids.”
“The twins aren’t kids.”
“Can they drink? Vote? Drive a car?” She arches an eyebrow at me. “No.”
“They’re still not mine.”
“I beg to differ and when the time comes, I’ll be happy to say I told you so.”
I don’t have to argue because the first Rogue, team captain Beckett Higgison, is announced. He steps onto the ice to thunderous applause.
If ever there was proof that pushing for an NHL franchise based in Baton Rouge was worth the hard work, this is it.
The town loves their team. Now it’s up to the team to show their appreciation of that support by winning our first game.
Chase
Five games into pre-season and it’s the first away game the girls haven’t traveled with me. And I don’t like it.
Gem is here too, so the fact they’re not at home with her is more unsettling.
Although they’re staying with Pa, Oakley’s grandfather, who has adopted my sisters as his own grandchildren with open arms, I can’t shake the worry.
Except I need to concentrate; this game is tight. Thankfully we’re holding. Playing well. Even with the small section of crowd booing us at every opportunity—especially when I stop a puck—as a team, our focus is solid.
For the most part I’ve managed to push my concern for the girls aside. I’m not going to lie, it’s tough to travel without them and not worry, tougher than I thought it would be, but I do it because there’s no other choice. And I need—the team needs—my head in the game one hundred percent of the time.
But when I barely clip a puck edge enough to divert its trajectory, I realize I’ve let my mind wander. Again.
Refocusing on the players zipping around me, the puck whizzing over the ice away from me, I think of nothing but what I need to do to guard my house.
We’re up by one and I refuse to be the man who changes that score. The only change I’ll accept is an uptick in our goal count.
Magnus Lund skates past, one eyebrow raised beneath his furrowed brow. I know what he’s asking, he’s worried my head isn’t in the game. I give him a nod and his face smooths out before he offers me a smile then turns to watch the play happening down ice.
Our front line has the puck up by Detroit’s goal and I can see the move before it happens. I’ve watched them do it multiple times during practice.
Bran takes the puck up the right side, but not all the way even though he’s got the space. In a quick flick, he passes it off to Bex who appears to line up a shot at goal but sends it across the goal to Mikkel Vinter instead.
And Vin sends that black disc straight through the Detroit goalie’s legs.
The goal light flashes, the buzzer sounds, and the crowd behind me boos, but the Rogues fans spread out through Detroit’s arena drown them out with their cheers and applause.
