“We’re just, figuring it out together?” I try to articulate, walking to one of the seats near the window. I keep my eyes on Nicky as the team finishes their warm-ups and makes their way back into the tunnel. Violet joins me, sitting close and leaning her head on my shoulder. I’m happy to have this time with her before Andy shows up.
“That’s enough for now, then. No need to put labels when you don’t want them,” Violet replies.
“It’s more that I’m not sure what label fits,” I explain, even though I know she gets it. Violet’s never seen me with anyone I felt strongly about, mostly because I’ve neverbeenwith anyone I’ve felt strongly about. Giving these thoughts a voice helps me feel more secure in them, or work through the bits that are still murky, so I try. “When I first moved here, all the guys were just safe spaces. I leaned into your trust in them and enjoyed how attractive they are. I was content to just have some eye candy and friendship. But Nicky always lingered in my mind in a way I couldn’t get rid of. Then I met Natalia, and I can’t describe the way I became protective of them…” I pause, thinking of all the time I’ve spent with the little family, of their gravitational pull they’ve had on me. Twin stars pulling in a drifting planet. “Falling for him has felt natural. Inevitable. I can’t imagine not being with Nicky. He’s not a boyfriend, he’s something more. He’s just…mine.”
“I am so happy for both of you.” Violet smiles.
The door to the suite opens, and Andy walks in with their head in their phone. But their timing is perfect. My scheduled meeting with Ava will likely result in my removal from representing Nicky during filming, and I don’t want to clue in the producer that I’m irrevocably in love with their subject. It’s been a small miracle that Andy hasn’t figured it out over the last week and a half. But maybe only filming twice has kept Nickyand my change in relationship status safe from the watchful gaze of the quiet filmmaker.
“Hi Andy,” I greet, patting the seat next to me. Andy looks up from their phone, shoving it into their pocket and flashing a smile. “Is the crew set up?”
“Good to go. I put Patrick directly behind Nicky’s goal tonight. Thanks for securing that seat, by the way.” Andy sits down and leans forward, pointing out where they’ve positioned the cameras to gather footage tonight. “Julia is at the top of the lower bowl, across from the team benches. She said it was a great way to get coverage of the coaching staff and line changes. It’s rare that Nicky makes his way to the bench, but it will be good to show how the game works for the casual viewer. Plus, she said something about getting to stare at Coach Andrews all night.”
“Ew.” Violet gags on my other side at the comment about her dad. Andy and I dissolve into laughter at her mock horror.
“He’s not my type, but I see the silver-fox appeal,” Andy concedes with a shrug of their shoulders. “Besides, Julia’s right about needing coverage there. I’d like to see more of the relationship between Nicky and Andrews. They have some similarities, and Nicky’s always spoken highly of him.”
“They are close. Cal’s been like a father to Nicky. He’s like that to a lot of the guys on the team, but I suppose it’s even more pronounced between them. Natalia loves him like a grandfather, too,” I acknowledge. Violet nods along, probably thinking of Crosby’s relationship with his coach, and I direct my question at her. “Doesn’t he make all the new guys acquire life insurance, open up a savings account, and a will when they sign?”
“Seriously?” Andy leans over me as I turn to Violet for confirmation.
“Yeah,” she says. “Dad’s always been big on taking care of his team. Those things aren’t a requirement, but he says he watched too many young guys blow through their money—or their body—and have nothing to show for it when they’re done playing. It was probably Palmer and Tempe’s influence when he was a rookie and then had me a few seasons in,” Violet explains, mentioning Cal’s best friends and Obie’s parents. They’re very close, and Violet practically grew up with them as another set of caregivers while Cal played. It’s how she and Obie became so close.
“Wow.” Andy sounds impressed, and I agree. “I’m going to have to get Callum Andrews to agree to more than a two-minute interview so we can talk about that.”
“Good luck.” I laugh. “I’m still surprised he relented a couple of months back about the locker room as an interview space. Cal hates just about every aspect of hockey that doesn’t involve players and the ice. Isn’t that right, Vi?”
“Dad’s all about the game.” She nods apologetically. The lights in the arena shift then, signaling the start of the pre-game. “But you never know. We could put in a good word for you. He’s usually in a good mood after a game they win, so let’s root really hard for the boys tonight.”
“Sounds like a good plan.” Andy lifts their hand for a high five, and I laugh as it happens over my head. “I have a good feeling about tonight.”
As the public announcer begins his usual address over the speaker, I can’t help but agree. I feel a tingle of change and possibility thrumming through my veins.
That feeling intensifies through the game, until I’m practically floating in the third period. The score is nil-nil, but the guys are gutting it out, playing hard to tip the game in our favor. Nicky’s been unstoppable in net. Vegas has put pressure on him, but he’s blocked every shot.
As the clock winds down near the end of regulation, play is stopped after a puck ends up over the glass. My breath hitcheswhen Nicky turns in front of his goal and looks directly at the suite. I know he can’t see me, but he looks for me all the same.
He looks for me.
And I can’t take my eyes off him.
“Keep filming,”Andy whispers into their phone next to me. “No, don’t get any closer, but film all of it. We’ll figure it out in post.”
When Nicky hit the ice, I knew something was wrong.
When Robbie and Cal leaped over the boards, slipping and sliding their way to the net, I knew it was bad.
Now, I’m striding purposefully down the stairs in the arena reserved for executive staff, Violet behind me and Andy keeping pace next to me, my gut twisted in knots. Andy shoves their phone into their jeans pocket and cuts their attention to me as we hit the last landing. I’m thankful they choose to keep their mouth shut as I press my staff badge against the electronic keypad, the light flashes green, and the lock disengages with a loud click.
After wrenching the door open, I look at my watch.
Three minutes.
It has been three minutes since we left the suite to the sight of Nicky surrounded in front of his net and crushing silence in a nearly full arena.
Five minutes.
It has been five minutes since Nicky lay motionless, and a man I only know as “Doc” took over chest compressions from Robbie.
