“Will? Yeah, of course.” His brother, Will, was about two years younger. I met him a couple times when Johnny and I played together in Ontario.
“He’s coaching a team of rugrats across town. They’re playing at Centre Ice later tonight. They’d love to see an NHL guy. Think you can stop by the game?”
Ali’s lips twisted into a smile, encouraging me to go.
I smirked. “Yeah, I’d love to.”
After Johnny left us alone in the kitchen, I could see him through the bay window catching up with my dad in the front yard for acouple minutes. Ali stood from the table and brought our mugs to the kitchen sink.
“What are you thinking?” I asked, moving behind her to loop my good arm around her waist.
She leaned into me and looked up to meet my eyes. “I’m thinking I'm determined to get this divorce.”
“Thatta girl.” I grinned, smoothing my hand down her side. “Do you really think he won’t sign the papers? It’s been a long time. Maybe he’s grown and changed?”
Ali turned forward to look out the window and paused for a moment. “I kept hoping he’d grow and change for years. I really don’t want to hope anymore, so I’d rather not rely on that option.”
I nodded in understanding and massaged her shoulder, but my heart hurt for her. “I get that. But having hope isn’t always a bad thing.”
“Yeah, I’m starting to realize that,” she said, turning in my arms to face me. “So long as you’re not around people who take advantage.”
I traced her jaw and before leaning down to kiss her. “I’ll never take advantage,” I swore.
She laid her head against my chest. “Thank you, JP.”
“Not something you have to thank me for, babe.” I dropped another kiss on her hair. “Wanna come to the game with me later?”
“I would, but Piper and Mrs. Kappers asked me to dinner.”
I frowned. “Where’s Kappy? Surprised he didn’t invite me.”
“Kappy left this morning to be back in Chicago for the game tomorrow,” she said, watching my face closely to monitor my emotions.
“I’m not upset,” I reassured her, rubbing her back with my good hand. “I’m glad I got the surgery. I’m glad I’m getting this out of the way.”
_________
Bittersweet nostalgia rocked into me as I made my way across Centre Ice’s expansive parking lot. I had more memories inside this big building than I had of being at home or school combined. This is where I grew up. This was my home.
Pulling open the lobby door, my eyes snagged on the bench bythe garden that overlooked the pond stretching beyond the rink. This rink is where I fell in love, and it was where I had my first real heart break. I could still feel the burning ache in my chest from when I practically begged Ali not to move in with Mark Rossi.
Inside the rink, so much was the same—the colors of the walls, the youth team logos, the banners of past championships, the rubber-covered picnic tables in front of the concession stand—but one major difference had my throat burning. It’s almost like I was expecting Hans to pop up from the front office. I’m not sure I’d ever get used to the fact that he wasn’t here with us anymore.
“Hey,” Johnny called from across the lobby, pulling me from my memories. He waved me over to the East side rink.
After joining the kids in the locker room for their pre-game pep-talk, I climbed up into the metal stands and took a seat near the empty cinderblock press-box.
The teenager controlling the stop-clock blasted some pump-up jams as the two teams filed onto the ice for warm-ups.
Johnny waved at me from his spot on the team bench. He and his brother practically looked like twins, except Will was in a team jacket and docker pants while Johnny still looked like a lawyer in his peacoat, beanie, and scarf.
Taking a sip of my hot chocolate, my eyes drifted over to watch the home team’s side of the ice. It was weird to be here at Centre Ice but supporting an away team. I spent years in Centre Ice’s signature black, white, and light blue jersey. The coach had his back turned as he went over plays on the white board for a couple kids. He had a lanky, bow-legged build, and dark hair flipping out under a ballcap. His stance seemed familiar, but I couldn't quite place who it was. It must’ve been a guy I played a season or two with. I squinted hard across the ice, trying to recognize him. As soon as he turned to face his team, a chill skated through my system.
No fucking way.
I squeezed my eyes shut, thinking my head was playing tricks on me.
The nostalgia must’ve been somehow tainting the way I was seeing this place.
