Page 63

LEO
A prime scoring area located between the faceoff circles and in front of the goal.
Game 59 – Pittsburgh Penguins
United Center
Mid-February
I haven’t calledCallie about the date yet. We talk, yeah, but never aboutwhenwe’re going out. I have some planning to do, and with three home games this week, time isn’t on my side.
We win against the Wilds and then lose on Friday against the Blue Jackets, all on home ice.
Sunday comes around, and we have an important game against the Penguins, and one that Ryland’s family is attending. I work it out that I will take Ryland around the rink once to see what she thinks of it, so Heath and Jillian are escorted into the locker room before warm-ups.
Ryland notices me right away, tucked away in her father’s arms and wearing my jersey. She looks tiny, afraid, and sick. I hate that it’s evident she’s going to die soon. She has a drained ashen appearance that makes me nauseous to think she won’t be able to live out her childhood.
“Princess!” I say, pushing the thoughts away and walking up to her in my full uniform. She kind of gawks at me, taken back probably and wondering if it’s really me. My voice is the confirmation, sending her into a full-body wiggle to get to me.
Ryland willingly lets me hold her, releasing her grip on her father. I smile at him, gesturing to the room filled with my boys, all suited up for the game, surrounding us. “Still a Penguins fan? Probably don’t want to give that away in here.”
He mouths the words, “Screw you,” because, let’s face it, he isn’t dumb.
The players file out, and Heath and Jillian follow as well, with a camera in hand wanting to capture their daughter’s first trip on ice.
When we’re at the entrance, I pause and hold Ryland a little closer. Nerves hit me. I hope I don’t drop her. She’s barely twenty pounds, I doubt that will be a problem, but still, she’s fragile. I can hear the fans awwwing when they notice me holding her. There’s no one else on the ice, just us as they continue the warm-up music, but all the guys move to the bench to give me just a few moments with her.
“Hang on, princess.” I skate onto the ice, and Ryland’s breath catches at the coolness in the arena. She grins, though, and the entire time that smile never fades. I have her wave to the twenty-thousand fans, who all smile and cheer in response.
I circle the ice slowly, watching her face and the smile. “Fun,” she says, her eyes on the ice. I pause by our bench, and she gives tiny fist bumps to the players from both teams, and then by the glass where her parents are standing. She presses her hand to the glass, laughing. Jillian and Heath both cry. Hell, even I’m choked up.
Kissing Ryland’s cheek, I lift my eyes and notice Callie, wearing my jersey, watching my interaction with Ryland. I can’t place the emotion in her eyes or even what she’s thinking as the tears roll down her cheeks.
Does this change her impression of me?
Bringing Ryland out here isn’t about changing her impression of me, though. I don’t do it to prove to Callie I can be a good guy. I do it for a child who will never have the opportunity to do this again.
* * *
I giveRyland back to her parents after letting her feel the ice, which she tries to lick, but then it’s onto warm-ups with the guys. As we joke with each other, them calling me a softy, the jokes turn once again to Mase and his sister, who is here at the game and wearing Remy’s jersey. Yep. Remy’s. Told ya they’re fucking.
Mase is pissed and smacks the boards by her. “Take that off, Catelyn!” he shouts, hitting the glass again with his stick.
Remy skates by casually, winking at Catelyn. “Face it, Mase. She likes me better, and you know it.”
During warm-ups is when we usually tease one another. Home games it’s easy because wives are there, girlfriends, puck bunnies, sisters… all motivation to get under another players’ skin. And Remy’s certainly using it to his advantage tonight.
“Don’t get any ideas,” Mase barks, shoving him. You can tell it’s better left alone, but does he really think Remy and I will?
No. Fuck no. Mase might be my best friend, but I’m all for a laugh tonight. I don’t care at whose expense.
I skate over to Cage, our goalie, followed by Remy and Mase. “What’s up, Breezy? Ready to defend them pipes tonight?”
“You know it, baby,” he says, stretching out his legs. He raises his chin to the boards. “Is that Ryland’s mom?”
I smile, knowing where this is going. Cage is what we call a cougar catcher. He never dates anyone his own age. “And that’s herdad, beside her.”
“Damn.” He sighs, his head down.