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TOM

M oving to Boston in March had put more than a bit of pressure on Callie. She and Mariana had grown closer as they managed all the moving details across the country.

Yes, we still had Monica to help, but with Callie’s friendship, she worked to draw the line between their personal and professional relationships.

The Bears made the playoffs; it turned out that their goalie’s lower-body injury had been season-ending. So, the package deal with Alex and me was key to getting the deal done and the only way the team would make it into the postseason.

I caught Callie’s eyes during warm-ups. We were at home for game seven, and the WAGs were in the stands in their playoff jackets. My last name was embroidered across Callie’s back if that didn’t tug at my heartstrings.

She and Mariana embraced and posed for a selfie while the kids bounced excitedly in their seats.

God, I loved that woman.

Did I want to win this game and advance to the Stanley Cup Finals? Fuck yes. But if our season ended tonight, I knew I had more to look forward to than any man on the winning team.

I smiled, remembering earlier this afternoon when she’d dropped me off outside the Garden.

“Tell Daddy what we talked about earlier, Crew,” she said, encouraging him to say something they practiced.

“Kick ass!” he said as Callie gasped, giving Crew the exact reaction he’d been going for. Since his baby brother was born, he liked to push limits and loved swearing. I liked to blame it on Sam whenever possible.

“No, that’s not what we planned, bud. That’s not a word we’re supposed to use. Remember?” she asked.

He shook his head, a wicked grin on his face. Crew had started speaking a ton more, but he’d become less malleable. If he didn’t feel like performing, he wouldn’t. While he refused to do what she asked, I knew my wingman wouldn’t let me down with what I had planned after the game.

I pulled my family in for a hug, Callie straightening my tie, her gaze heated. I’d dress up in a monkey suit every damn day to get that reaction from her.

“I love you,” I whispered in her ear.

“Love you, too,” she said. “Go do some main character shit, okay?”

“Fuck, yeah.”

“Yeah, Dada! Love you!” Crew shouted. It was music to my ears, even though I missed when he mispronounced his Ls. I’d been warned that one day Dada would morph into Daddy and then one day Dad. That thought broke my heart just a little.

I checked my phone once more before I locked it up for the game and found a YouTube video from Callie.

She had sent me one of my favorite songs from the night she performed in Colorado.

Taylor Swift’s “Lover” had somehow become part of our love language.

I might have had a private performance or two.

In response, I sent her a video of Old Dominion’s “One Man Band.” I had become a lot more vocal about what I wanted for the future, for our future.

We both were building our future and in the off-season, I would be ready to support Callie as she did her main character shit.

Since we’d moved back to Boston, her songwriting and interest in her music had exploded.

While I loved when she performed, she’d found a niche to create and have a life with us.

After we were abruptly traded, Alex and I kept in contact with our former teammates from the Blizzards. Damon had been hit hard, though. With Kayleigh’s disappearance and our trade, he’d been caught in an interview showing more emotion than I had expected.

I winced, recalling him answering a foolish question from a reporter asking how he felt about the trade.

“How do you think I feel? I had dinner plans with my two best friends, and they’re gone. Not even time to say goodbye.”

That was probably the toughest part of the trade—the abruptness of waking up one day, putting on one jersey, playing the game with your friends and neighbors, and then shuffling off to a new team.

See you later; don’t let the door hit you on the way out.

As awful as the day-to-day grind could be, that topped it off.

Had I not been shipping off to Boston, had I not known I had the support of my girlfriend, I would have struggled to get acclimated to a new city.

And no, it wasn’t lost on me that I could end up traded again at the end of the season, but it wasn’t likely.

I had filled a hole on the team, and somehow, my jersey sales had picked up, my time on ice was the best in the league, and my points per game were pushing a team record.

Add in my assist record for the season, and I was looking forward to my options during contract negotiations.

I wouldn’t spend my days worrying about what could go wrong because, as far as I was concerned, I had more than I would have ever thought possible.

Somewhere in the third period, I took a stick to the face.

Yeah, it missed everything important, but the fucker bled like crazy.

I caught Callie’s worried expression, gave her a thumbs-up, and pointed to my teeth before I went back with the medical team to get a quick stitch.

I doubted a missing tooth would turn her off, but yeah, I’m still happy to have all my teeth.

We were still tied up at the end of the third period when the buzzer signaled the end of play. With two minutes between the end of the period, we prepared for our five-on-five sudden death overtime.

Game seven, in OT, with advancement to the Stanley Cup Finals on the line, the crowd went wild as Alex blocked a sneaky shot on goal, keeping us in the game. Fuck yes.

The next two minutes flew by in a blur as I tapped the puck to LaCross, our center, and whizzed past their goalie into the net. The crowd went wild, and the entire team piled onto the ice.

I’m not sure how they made it onto the ice with the crowd still celebrating, but Callie, Crew, and my mom all met me there. We posed for photo after photo.

“Dada,” Crew whisper-shouted, “Is it time yet?”

“Not yet, bud. Let’s wait for the crowd to die down.”

And then, one of the trainers slipped in behind me, handing me the small box I had put him in charge of at the start of the game. I slipped it inside my glove, catching Alex and Mariana’s eyes as they did their best to cause a distraction and move the crowd away from us.

Things were finally winding down, and I pulled Crew and Callie in together and asked my mom to take one more photo. As we posed for the camera, I handed Crew my glove.

“Ok, bud. It’s time.”

We had practiced this over and over. And he came through hard.

Callie’s gaze drifted down as Crew’s hand disappeared into my hockey glove. The little guy pulled out the box, and I watched Callie’s face as she realized what was happening. Surprise, happiness, wonder, and tears sprung from her eyes as Crew and I both got on one knee.

“Marry us, Kiwi?” Crew asked.

“Oh, my God, yes!” She said as she dropped down on her knees.

Her hand and mine shook as Crew and I put the ring on her finger. I wrapped them both in my arms, the three of us only aware of our little circle.

When Callie finally pulled her tear-stained face up from my chest, we both blinked, realizing we were now the center of attention.

“Whelp, if this ain’t main character shit, I don’t know what it,” she said before pulling me in for a kiss, giving the crowd what they wanted.

The End