Nat helped me update my jersey.
A picture comes through of a Midnight jersey. It has my number twenty-eight on the back, but says, “Mrs. Baladin.” I smile before typing out a reply.
It is a little different than that first jersey you wore. Nat’s got good taste.
Solnyshka
Impeccable.
You sure you want everyone knowing?
Bea and I got married a six weeks ago. A small civil service surrounded by our friends in our backyard as the late-summer sun set. I love calling her my wife, and didn’t hesitate when Bea insisted it happen as soon as possible. Natalia came home from her first week of school in tears after a new kid had claimed Bea wasn’t really her mother.
“I want to adopt Natalia,” Bea said after we’d gotten Nat to bed, an effort that took both of us. “I don’t want there to be any more questions. She’s mine, and I’m hers, right?”
“Absolutely,” I assured her. “You know what would help make the process easier? If we were married.”
Bea barely let the abruptness of my statement register before she wrapped her arms around my waist and laid her head on my chest. I soothed a hand down her curls, keeping her close.
“It’s not the only reason I want to marry you.” I hoped she could hear the sincerity in my voice and read between the lines. “It will just makeallof those reasons easier. But know more than anything, I want to marry you because I want you. I want this forour family.”
“I know.” She presses a kiss to my chest. Bea tilted her head until she could look up at me. “But I love that the practical can also be romantic. Especially if it means all of us will be loved forever.”
Solnyshka
Everyone we care about already knows. It’s not like it will change the narrative of the headlines about the game tonight. The public is far more focused on you.
Thanks for that reminder.
Another message doesn’t come, but the phone buzzes as a FaceTime request comes through. I swipe, the tension I had been fighting bleeding out when Bea’s beautiful face fills the screen.
“Hello,solnyshka.”
“Are you okay?” Her face scrunches adorably, as though examining me through the screen. “You’re still in the car.”
“I was parking and then texting you. Just haven’t gotten out yet,” I say, touched by her concern. “But I’m fine. I saw Adam yesterday, and I feel good. Ready to play.”
“I love you,” Bea tells me, and in the background, Natalia echoes the sentiment. Bea turns her head over her shoulder for a moment and then smiles at me. “She’s dressing Floppy in the mini jersey Allison made.”
I let out a low laugh. Allison’s custom clothing line for female fans has taken off this past year. Since leaving her position withThe Midnight, Bea has been freelancing with Allison’s company to push the brand beyond hockey fans. As a perk, Natalia’s favorite stuffy has been the recipient of several test products.
“I love you, too.” We stare at each other for a moment more before Bea rolls her eyes and gives a throaty chuckle.
“All right.” She waves her hand in a shooing motion in front of the camera. “Get out of here. I already have texts from GusandCharlie, wondering where you are. We’ll see you in a little bit.”
The locker room is exactly the same as it has always been, but the atmosphere feels more like a playoff game than the first home game of the season. There’s a healthy buzz of excitement and anticipation in the air, but also a reservedness I’m trying not to feel responsible for. Most of the staff and team are back to normal, but there are a few giving me lingering looks or hovering. I brush it off as well-intentioned concern.
I worked hard through the off-season and training camp to be ready for this. I sat out all of the pre-season games and the opener two nights ago to be prepared. The front office was more than happy with the plan Cal and I had decided was best for me. It gave them a chance to build up the moment more, especially afterBeyond the Boardspremiered the day before the season started. It’s been difficult to avoid the chatter about how the documentary has been received, but I’m used to blocking things out.
Most of the team agrees with my feelings: I’m not ready to watch it. Living it once was hard enough, and I’m definitely notin a place to do it again. I’ve had nothing but support from the guys, but I also have walked the tightrope of awareness of what it means for the organization as a whole.
My injury—my story—sells tickets. And by the sounds filtering in from the arena before we go out for warm-ups, The Midnight is about to have a very busy season.
Gus comes in from one of the other rooms, a twisted look on his usually happy face. He plops onto his chair and puffs out an exhale that turns into a sigh. I look to our captain for an explanation, but Crosby just sits next to his best friend and waits.
“When Maeve said she had gotten an internship, she failed to tell me it was with our strength and conditioning staff. She’s over in the training room right now, inventorying supplies,” Gus finally explains when Leo, Charlie, and Obie huddle around our friend. There’s a distinct petulance in his tone, like a little kid not getting his way. It’s hard to feel empathetic when he crosses his arms and huffs before continuing, “I want to be supportive—Iamsupportive—but I can’t help but feel like she’s invading my space again. I don’t like it.”
No one says anything for a minute. Then Obie pats Gus’ shoulder twice.
