It’s been so long—too long—since I’ve watched Hunter play hockey in person. His games have been my guilty secret since he hit the pros, but I haven’t been to a game since high school. Bayou Enterprises owns season tickets to the Fire, and because Charly’s brother, Eli, is the CEO of their family company, Simon, Charly, Ash, and I are sitting at center ice just a few rows up. Simon’s got his arm around Charly, and Ashley’s flirting with the two guys on her other side while I sit and watch Hunter warm up with his teammates.
I’m so excited, and having Charly and Ash with me brings back a lot of memories.
“Remember how we’d have to drive to Baton Rouge to watch him and his brothers play?” I give them a wry smile. “A bunch of southern boys playing ice hockey.”
“I know. It’s amazing the four of them were able to make the pros,” Ashley says.
“Their dad saved up for them to travel north and go to hockey camps every summer,” I say. “He took out a second mortgage on his house in order to afford their training, and it ended up paying off.”
“Mr. Storm would be flipping out to see a professional team in New Orleans,” Charly says. “I hope they last.”
“It’s been three years now, which is three years longer than I would have thought it would stick.” I glance around at the arena. “And it’s packed tonight.”
“It is.” Ashley laughs. “People come to socialize and relax. I don’t know if they really understand the sport yet. It’s growing on them, though.”
“What they need is for the Fire to win a championship,” Simon says. “That would increase interest in the sport around here.”
“The city would go nuts if that happens,” Charly agrees.
We stand up for the National Anthem and the player introductions.
Then, the game starts.
And I’m immediately transfixed.
Unlike my two best friends.
Like they used to do in high school, Charly and Ashley tune the game out as they get into a long chat across my lap. First, it’s something about Charly’s shoe business. And then, they move on to Ashley’s new wedding accessories store that she just opened in the French Quarter. She’s talking about the flash gold temporary tattoos she’s started stocking and how fast they’re selling out. I miss the rest of their conversation because I’m too busy watching Hunter.
He assists on New Orleans’s first goal and helps kill a power play by Montana. Then, he splits two defenders on a breakaway and slides the puck past the flailing goalie.
I’m screaming so loudly I know I’ll be hoarse later.
I’m certainly not a hockey expert, but I’ve been following Hunter’s career for years, and even I know when somebody’s on fire. Hunter’s hot tonight, and he knows it. After he scores a second goal on a one-timer from the right circle, he punches his stick in the air and points to where we’re sitting. I can’t help the smile that breaks out on my face.
And when he slams a defender into the boards right in front of us, I stand up and shout.
“Go, Hunt!”
As I sit back down, Simon chuckles.
“Didn’t know you’d be such a cheerleader,” he says. “Your enthusiasm’s infectious.”
Ashley and Charly are grinning at me.
“What?” I stick out my tongue at them. “I’m rooting for the Fire. That’s all.”
“Uh-huh.” Charly takes my hand in hers and squeezes it. “It’s good to see you happy, Win. We’ve been worried about you.”
“What do you mean?” I ask her. “I’m okay.”
As Ashley gets drawn into a conversation with the guy on her other side and Simon takes a phone call, Charly lets go of my hand but keeps talking.
“Something’s different with you,” she says quietly.
I keep my eyes on the ice. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
“I mean, the last bunch of times we’ve talked on the phone, you’ve seemed sadder than usual. But, you’ve looked happier tonight. And I don’t know, you and Hunter last night…you two couldn’t have hung out like that before.”
