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Ben Stirling

The vibe at McGuire’s is super chill. There are people sprawled out on oversized sofas and others curled up with their feet on the seats. The way they’re lounging gives me the impression this isn’t their first time here. A group of kids runs back and forth to the kitchen, shoveling snacks into their mouths and getting rowdy.

I’m bummed Luca isn’t with us. He’d love it here.

He was determined to go to Amy’s, though, because Ellen is sleeping over as well, and Cam has been promising he’ll attempt the piece-of-string-door-slamming technique on Luca’s wiggly tooth.

Luca’s been asking me to do it for a few days, but when you think of the mechanics of it, it’s pretty barbaric, and I just don’t have it in me to do something like that. It’s been pissing him off that I’m so squeamish.

Jeremiah and I work our way around the room, greeting people I know and meeting new ones. His face is a picture when I introduce him to players. A little tension tightens the corners of his mouth, and I know it means he’s fighting the urge to say, “I’m your biggest fan,” for all he’s worth.

It cracks me up, and in a roundabout way, it makes me glad Luca is away for the weekend.

I meant what I said earlier. We won’t be staying long. The kiss in the hallway made sure of that… And we’ll definitely need the house to ourselves for what I plan on doing when we get home.

I see Luddy on the periphery of the room, standing to one side, observing the action. As always, he seems a little removed, a little aloof.

“You okay here, darlin’?” I whisper to Jeremiah, who has struck up a lively conversation with Robbie’s sister Beth and Vipers defenseman Bodie Thoms. Poor old Thoms has a glazed expression and seems completely unable to tear his eyes off Beth. Jeremiah nods and gives me a smile that makes his cheeks pinken ever so slightly. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

“Luddy,” I say, walking over and begrudgingly raising my beer to him.

“Stirling,” he says, clinking his bottle against mine. “How goes it, old man?”

“Old man?” I’m less than a year older than Luddy, and no matter what he might have to say about the matter, my stats were always better than his. I mean, fine, there were a couple of years when I met Liz, and a couple more when Luca was born, when they took a dip, but what’s a few years here and there in a professional career that spanned almost fourteen years? Nothing, that’s what. “I’m good, asshole. You?”

He gives a dry chuckle and throws back a swig of beer. “I’m old,” he says. “That’s how I am, old. My knees are fucked. My left elbow’s fucked. Right shoulder’s not great either.” He gestures to Decker and McGuire. “The dream team over there is killing me, man. I tell you, they’re killing me.”

His admission makes me laugh and fills me with an old, unfamiliar fondness for the man standing before me. “I saw an article about you retiring next year. You reckon you have one more season in you?”

He raises his brows and blows a puff of air through his lips. “Yeah, I do, but only just. If I make it, I’ll be making it by the skin of my teeth.”

“You’ll make it,” I assure him. “Second-best center in the NHL? Come on, how could you not?”

“Jesus, Stirling, second-best center?” He barks out a laugh. “You never change, you know that?” His voice falters and drifts because we both know that while that was true for a long time, it isn’t true anymore. Lots of things in my life have changed. Big things. He turns, positioning himself next to me instead of facing me, and calls out to one of his kids to behave. When he looks at me again, he says, “The game isn’t the same without you, man. It’s lost its shine for me. It’s boring now. My stats are just numbers without having you to beat.” He crosses his arms and rests his drink on the crook of his arm. “Part of me thinks I should have hung up my skates at the end of last season, but you know what it’s like. You’re always chasing one more. One more crack at the playoffs, one more shit-hot season, one more…”

“One more good game,” I finish for him. I sigh deeply, so deeply that the years we competed against each other don’t seem to matter anymore. “It never changes.”

“I hated the way you went out, Ben. I’m sorry that’s how this chapter ended for you. You and Luca lost the most, obviously, but the rest of us… We all lost something when you left the league.”

“Thanks,” I say gruffly.

“I heard you’re coaching a mites team now, is that right?”

“No, no, I’m not coaching. I just go down to the rink a couple of hours early on days when Luca plays and knock a puck around for a bit.”

“Hmm,” he says. “That’s not what I heard. I heard there’s a waitlist a mile long to get ice time with you. I heard parents are driving kids in from out of state for a session with you. I heard you’ve been creating such a stir that a couple of pro coaching teams have started paying attention.”

I wave him off. “Pro coaching teams? Nah, that’s not what I want.”

“What do you want then?”

“I want the same thing you want, Luddy. The same thing we all want.”

We look at each other for a beat and then say, “One more good game,” in unison.