As we walk up to the arena, Laddie’s eyes go huge. He’s full of questions and wild observations, chattering nonstop as we weave our way hand-in-hand across the busy promenade toward the entrance.
“Mama, there are so many people. Like a gajillionty people. Where will they all sit?”
I laugh, guiding Laddie through the crowd. “Well, that’s what all these seats are for, buddy. See? Everyone gets one.”
He looks up at me, full of wonder. “Mama, why are so many people wearing the same jersey as you had on the other day? With the numbers and everything?”
I laugh softly, ruffling his hair. “Those are Reapers’ fans, love. Everyone wears them to show they’re cheering for the team. The numbers on the back? Those are for their favorite players.”
He scrunches his nose, glancing around. “So, everybody’s, like, on the same team as you?”
“In a way, yeah. We’re all here to root for the Reapers tonight.”
He cranes his neck, pointing at the giant images plastered on the arena’s exterior. “And why are the pictures so big on the side of the building? Are those giants?”
I snort. “No, sweetie, those are just big pictures of the players so everyone knows who’s on the team.”
By the time we get to the ticket scanners, he’s bouncing with excitement. “What’s that thingy?” he asks the elderly man scanning our tickets.
The man chuckles. “This is just a scanner to validate your ticket, young man.”
“Cool!” Laddie declares. “Does it beep if I’m a bad guy?”
“Only if you try to sneak in extra popcorn,” the man winks.
We finally make it inside, and Laddie immediately pipes up, “Mama, I have to pee. And can I have popcorn?”
I sigh, grinning. “Of course. Let’s find a bathroom, and then we’ll get snacks.”
A few minutes and an armload of popcorn, candy, and bottles of water later, we make our way to our seats just as the pre-game show starts.
The opposing team comes out to a chorus of boos.
Laddie tugs my sleeve. “Mama, that’s not nice. Why are they booing?”
“That’s the rival team, love.
“But those guys want to win, too, Mama.”
“They do,” I say. “We don’t have to boo just because everyone else is booing, honey.”
This seems to settle him for now, at least until the Reapers skate out and the arena erupts in noise. The cheers are so loud that Laddie claps his hands over his ears, eyes wide, and for a second, I wonder if I made a mistake bringing him. Maybe he’s still a little young for this.
A few rows over, I spot people in Callaghan jerseys, and my heart swells with pride. I want to tell them I’ve known Liam Callaghan since I was in middle school, that he was my first love.
My only love.
Easy, Reyes. Keep it together.
Even though I keep my knowledge of Liam to myself, I do ask the people if this is Liam’s first game back.
“Nah, it’s his second,” one of the guys says. “The backup did a hell of a job filling in, though. Callaghan might have to work to keep his spot. He looked a little rusty earlier this week.”
I frown at this. Liam didn’t say anything about feeling rusty or being worried about losing his starting spot when we spoke via FaceTime last night.
Suddenly, the lights dim and the crowd hushes as someone steps up to sing the National Anthem. Laddie stands up straight and puts his little hand over his heart. He sings about half of the words correctly. He glances up at me, grinning with pride. “We practiced that at school,” he whispers, like it’s top-secret information.
When the puck finally drops, we focus on the game, trying to follow the action. Both teams take a few minutes to size each other up, passing the puck slowly and not moving quickly.
