Insecurity clawed at me from all sides.
How could he possibly be happy with someone like me when he could have had someone like her?
The front-row seats Levi secured for us were intense. The kids loved it, but I wasn’t as big a fan, as evidenced by my loud screams every time players slammed into the glass in front of us.
“Is it really necessary for them to hit each other so much?” I voiced my objection to the violent nature of this particular sport aloud.
Austin’s eyes stayed glued to the game as explained, “They don’t hit to hurt each other. It’s all about puck separation.”
“Ah.” I inclined my head in understanding, even though I had no clue what that meant.
I nearly jumped out of my skin when what felt like every person in the arena began to boo loudly in unison.
Then Austin slammed a palm flat on the glass, shouting, “Hey, Stripes! Get off your knees; you’re blowing the game!”
Horrified, I yelled, “Austin!”
“Nice one, kid,” the man seated behind me said, offering a hand to the teenager for a high-five.
When he caught me glaring, Austin shrugged. “What? It’s true. He didn’t call the blatant hooking on Cole when he was on a breakaway. In a one-goal game, the loss of that opportunity is huge.” He scoffed. “And we don’t even get a power play to make up for it.”
I blinked at him; the words coming out of his mouth might as well have been in a foreign language. “Where did you learn to talk like that?”
He smiled proudly. “Levi taught me how to chirp.”
“Of course he did,” I muttered under my breath.
“Dad’s on the ice!” Maisie shouted, bouncing on her toes.
Sure enough, number nine in aqua and orange streaked across the ice, his strides powerful, while at the same time looking completely effortless.
As if he were an on-air announcer, Austin began doing a play-by-play.
“Nixon with the chip up the boards around the Speed defenseman, he’s got Astor and Sutton with him as they enter the offensive zone on a three-on-two odd man rush. Nixon passes the puck to Sutton before curling around the back of the net. Sutton sends it to Astor, who rings it around for Nixon. Nixon dekes out the defender once, then again, looking for an outlet before finally sending it to the point. It goes D-to-D from Barclay to Astor at the blue line. Then passed back down low to Nixon, who slides it over to Astor on the back door—”
A horn sounded, and the crowd went wild, everyone on their feet, cheering as the announcer declared, “Surf goal!”
Though I flinched against the noise, I kept my eyes locked on the players dressed in aqua. Levi hoisted Cole into his arms as the rest of their teammates swarmed them.
Laughter burst past my lips. “They’re basically overgrown children.”
Austin’s smile was a mile wide. “How awesome is it that they get paid millions to play a game?”
Oh, boy. I could hear the hope in his voice that someday he might be able to follow in Levi’s footsteps—a dream that many had but very few would achieve.
Not wanting to burst his bubble—life would do that without my help—I kept my mouth shut, letting him continue to believe, even if only for a little while, that anything was possible if you put your mind to it.
“My man’s a real playmaker.” Austin sighed, retaking his seat.
“A what?” I cocked my head.
“Almost exactly what it sounds like. He makes plays that create scoring opportunities for his teammates. He moved the puck around, forcing the Speed players to chase it. When he had it on his stick, he held onto it just long enough to draw two defenders, allowing Cole to get free and set up in front of the wide-open net. And then, when the moment was right, he struck,sending the pass so Cole could score and earning himself the assist.”
Huh. Now that I thought about it, Levi was actively involved in making that goal happen.
“So, being a playmaker is a good thing to be?” I ventured a guess.
Austin smirked. “Hell yeah, it is.”
