The game may not be as bad as when Paul played, but it is brutal all because of one goalie, and not the one who makes my heart stutter.
In the last period, the Bears’ two-goal lead is down to one. Why? Because Johnson receives a penalty, Dash is sent to the box in his place.
“That son of a bitch is working for the other team!” Paul shakes his head.
“Certainly seems so, doesn’t it?” Nalani agrees.
“No, kid, I’m telling you that he’s either getting paid off to play like that, or he’s begging to get traded. That Costello kid paid way too much money for what he’s getting out of him.”
“How do you feel about the other goalies?” I ask.
“I think when Moretti finally stopped pouting, that girl coach played him more and gave him his balls back. And that kid they keep pulling up, he’s as good as Moretti was at his age. I’d cut my losses and put that little shit on the bench—permanently.”
I don’t tell him that Deacon is not even on the bench, or that he’s not playing due to his injury, that would undoubtedly raise questions I just don’t have answers for.
What I do know is that a five-minute penalty means the Bears are playing the rest of the game a man down.
“Defend the damn goal!” Paul yells when we can see that one of the Utah players has a clear shot.
Rivera and Koa end up somehow saving it, but they’re all over them. Koa gets the puck and rails it to Aleks Kilovak, aka The Killer.
“Don’t do it, Killer,” Paul says, seeing something before the players on the ice even do.
Killer winds back and slaps the puck from center ice, making a goal and giving the Bears back the lead.
“The Bears are up!” Sofie throws a fist in the air.
Nalani is tapping in her phone with a smile on her face, and I nudge her.
“Looks like you’ll have a very happy fiancé coming home to you.”
“It sure does.”
When the buzzer finally sounds, the cameraperson catches the perfect shot of Koa, his eyes locked and narrowed at Johnson.
Yep, I know what to expect. I just hope Johnson isn’t one of the players I see first.
On Wednesday,the medical team and support staff were told to take half a day off. The team would be back tonight, and tomorrow would be busy. I messaged Nalani to let her know and asked if she wanted to go to Noelle’s bookstore.
She picked Savannah and me up at noon, and we swung by Paul’s, visited for a bit, and then decided to walk to Pembrook Books from there.
She seemed a bit off, but I don’t ask why: “Are you sure you want to keep walking?” I ask Nalani when she starts to lag behind on our walk to Noelle’s bookstore on 78thstreet.
She glances down at Savannah’s new stroller. A ridiculously high-end model that feels more like a status symbol than baby gear. The thing has more configurations than I imagine a Kama Sutra book has.Koa has a major baby gear addiction.
“It’s only three miles. If my legs turn to mush, I’ll climb into the stroller and let you push us both.”
I can’t help but laugh. God, she is so happy, and I am so happy for her, for both of them.
Before Savannah, I ran five miles a day for my anxiety and mental health. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Speaking of plans, did you notice the plans laid out on the Island next to yours? Paul loved the entire?—”
I cut her off, “I cannot believe you gave him the notebook.”
She looks ahead with eyes narrowed slightly in thought. “I hope you take this the way that is intended.”
“Go on,” I encourage her.
