Page 51

Freezing my ass off in an arena has become my life. But I wouldn’t change a single thing about it.

émilie struggles in my arms, trying to get to her brother and daddy when they skate out onto the ice. My three-year-old daughter and my heart keep me warm as I watch Julien and Levi high-five their blockers before Levi skates to the net and Julien moves with ease in front of him, beginning their warm-up.

Julien takes Levi through a series of stretches as the other coaches on the U9 team warm up around them.

Seeing little eight-year-old Levi in all his goalie gear is both hilarious and the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. I never get tired of it.

When Julien and I moved in together, he insisted Levi start hockey right away, even though he was barely two and a half. It was a huge blessing for us because after we got his autism diagnosis, we were able to throw as much as we could into programs for him.

Seeing him thrive not just in hockey but in his development has eased some of my worries that he would struggle in his life.

And when I got pregnant six months later, right after Julien finished the final year of his goalie career with five NHL Stanley Cup wins under his belt, he insisted all he wanted was to be a stay-at-home dad.

I swear our kids are the luckiest kids in the world, and I can’t wait to tell him we’re about to be outnumbered. I know he’ll want another daughter, especially since he started coaching émilie’s teeny tiny hockey team.

Watching Julien coach our kids and run goalie camps for children like it’s everything he’s ever wanted in the world makes me fall more and more in love with him every day. I have to pinch myself sometimes.

I let my three-year-old go as she lets out a wail. “DADDY!” Damn, her voice is loud. After raising the quietest kid known to man, our daughter came into the world with the biggest set of lungs on her.

Her voice carries across the ice to Julien, who sends Levi and the rest of the team to the bench before the game starts. He skates over to the boards where we’re sitting and sprays ice onto the glass right in front of us.

émilie laughs loudly, her dark curls bouncing, and Julien beams at both of us before skating back to his position on the bench, removing his equipment.

He insists on getting geared up before every game, happy to take photos with any kid who wants one. It’s so sweet, even if it means we have to get to games a million hours earlier than necessary .

But I do love watching him take everything off and morph into Coach Julien. Coach Daddy. He’s so kind and patient with them. He was born to work with children. And I love that he gets to coach ours.

If I thought watching Julien in net during playoff season was stressful, it’s nothing like watching a player skate towards my eight-year-old on a breakaway. As the goalie mom, I’m the most stressed-out parent in the stands.

I watch my observant, quiet kid track the player as he skates into our end. The shot goes high and there’s a loud thunk. The puck lands in Levi’s glove. I barely even saw him move.

He saves goals exactly like his daddy.

My heart rate increases as the game continues. There’s a giant on the other team. Though Levi is tall, this kid looks like he’s starting high school. Or college.

He’s skating towards Levi and though I can’t watch, I jump to my feet anyway, émilie in my arms. It happens in slow motion and the past and present catch up. I watch the shot, the save, and then the crash.

This huge kid throws his stick in frustration and then slams right into Levi, knocking him down and the net off its posts. My heart screeches to a halt before leaping into my throat as Levi goes down. And he stays down, not moving.

Before I can react, Julien launches himself over the boards and races to Levi, getting to him before anyone else .

I watch from the boards as Julien takes Levi’s helmet off and I see them talking. Relief floods through me when he helps Levi to his feet. Julien looks back at me and nods, assuring me he’s okay.

I can’t find it in me to pity the other team’s coaches. Julien has fire in his eyes.

That kid hurt his son.

He marches over, steps not faltering on the ice for a second, and towers over the other team’s coach. Even after all these years, he hasn’t gotten any louder. I wish he was yelling so I could hear what he’s saying.

I want to yell and scream. But the coaches’ faces are pale, as though they just beheld the eyes of the devil and survived, so Julien must’ve scared them straight.

Nothing like having a 6’5” retired NHL goaltender rip you a new one.

The other team pulls the kid who smashed into Levi, and he doesn’t play the rest of the game. After Levi’s had some rest, he skates back out onto the ice, waving at me and his little sister.

Thankfully, the rest of the game is uneventful. Levi misses some shots but saves more, and their team pulls out a win.

When the kids shuffle into the dressing room, I wrestle with émilie as I wait in the lobby with all the other parents. The parents from the other team file out, one set in particular looking pissed as hell .

Julien comes out first, as usual. I watch him as he marches through the crowd. He may not be any louder, but he no longer makes himself small. He takes up all the space he needs, including my personal space.

“Hey, Daddy, how’re you feeling?” I ask, teasing and concern warring in my tone.

“You know I can’t resist it when you call me that,” he growls low so no one else can hear.

“I know.”

Levi comes out a few minutes later, running to us, awkwardly rolling his giant goalie bag behind him.

“Did you see it, Mommy?” he asks once he reaches us.

“I did, buddy. Big hit.”

He nods, serious, staring up at Julien. I’ll never get over the bond those two have. It makes my heart soar.

“I still can’t believe he hit me, Daddy,” his quiet voice says, so much conviction for an eight-year-old.

“I know, mon petit loup , are you okay?” Julien asks as he squats down to Levi’s height. I bet he’s asked him twenty times since the hit.

Levi nods. “Yeah, I’m okay. He shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, he shouldn’t have. Would you like me to talk to his parents?”

Levi takes in a deep breath, thinking over the question.

“Do you think he’ll do it again?”

“I don’t know. I hope not. ”

I have to stifle a laugh at how serious Levi looks. The giant kid comes out of the changeroom, and both Julien and Levi watch him walk up to his parents. They high-five him.

Big mistake.

Julien rises to his feet. I place my hand on his arm, feeling his muscles tense. I wait for him to look at me.

“He’s an eight-year-old kid,” I remind him.

He nods and then marches over to the parents.

Again, no yelling. And again, they look properly stricken. Then Julien squats down beside the kid who hit Levi and his face softens. I know exactly what he’s saying.

Sportsmanship is what makes a good player.

Never touch the goalie.

Both mottos in our house.

Except I constantly flout the latter, because my hands are always all over the goalie and I’ll touch him whenever the hell I want. Not that he complains.

Julien shakes the kid’s hand, signs his hockey stick for him, and glares at the parents once more before coming back to us.

I’m already shaking my head.

“When are you going to ask me to marry you, Richard?”

Julien beams, his smile wicked and wonderful.

“ Mon rêve , I’ve been ready to marry you since I crashed into you on that boat.”

He leans in and kisses émilie’s head before kissing me. The kiss is chaste but full of all the love he has for me and our family. I’m finally ready for that velvet ring box that’s been sitting in my drawer for years.

“Good. And for the record, if you add running to any of our wedding festivities, I’m calling it off.”

He laughs, wrapping us all up in his arms. “Deal.”

I’m one hundred percent happy.

THE END