Page 71 of Holding Penalty

Cooper wins the face-off and slides the puck back to me. After deking past two Las Vegas defenders, I send the puck sailing past their goalie’s left shoulder.

I give my team our first goal of the season less than one minute into the opening game.

Even as my teammates rush to celebrate with me, and the home crowd rises to their feet with a deafening roar, it doesn’t feel like I scored the goal for any of them.

My eyes only go one place in the crowd, to the person I really scored that goal for: my wife.

We win the game 4-1.

In the locker room, the guys are having a blast. Joking around, roughhousing, talking about the best plays we pulled off. But the first thing I do is find my phone in my cubby and text Piper.

ME

Where are you?

PIPER

I’m in the lobby. Do you have a bunch of stuff to do after the game? Should I just meet you at home?

If she goes home, she’ll change. The next time I see her, she won’t be wearing my jersey anymore.

ME

No, I’ll come out to you

Stepping out into the lobby among the fans after the game we just had is an objectively idiotic idea. I’ll be swamped. It’ll be a nightmare for security and arena staff.

But I need to see Piper in my jersey up close. The sheer craving I have for that is completely irrational, but I’m too high on adrenaline right now to give a shit, too hyped up to exercise judgment.

With my hair still sweaty and matted down from my helmet and my game jersey still on, all I do is remove my skates and step into my shoes before I head to the door.

“Nash, where are you going?” Hayden asks.

“To see my wife,” I answer, not looking back.

I text Piper again, telling her to meet me by a certain concession stand that’s in an area of the lobby that’s never that busy when games let out. Of course, there will still be fans around, and they’ll spot me and draw a crowd, but it should be far enough away from the main exit routes that we don’t get totally slammed.

I step into the concourse where I told Piper to meet me, and the first thing I see is her. The adrenaline in my bloodstream kicks up a notch, and I’m buzzing so much that my hands tingle.

There she is, my wife in the eyes of the law, wearing my jersey, and even though our vows were never said with even a pinch of sincerity, I’ve never heard the word mine ring so loudly in my ears as it does right now.

I should realize how bad this reaction is and pump the brakes, but I’m way too worked up from the game. Too many endorphins are bouncing around my brain, I feel too good, too high, and all I can do is lean into it.

“Piper,” I say, her name feeling like a sweet liquor on my lips.

She turns around, and something flashes in her eyes. An excitement at seeing me that I haven’t noticed there before.

“There’s my wife,” I say, approaching her. I want nothing more right now than to plant my hands on her waist and pull her close, but I have enough sense scattered around my brain to pull it together and keep myself from going that far.

“Nice game,” she says, an uncharacteristically bashful smile gracing her lips.

I stand in front of her, unsure for a moment. I felt pulled to her like a magnetic tug, but now that I’m here, I’m at a loss.

If she were my real wife, I’d pull her close, celebrate by planting my lips to hers. I’d turn her around and get a good look at my name on her back up close. Tell her that I can’t wait until later tonight, when I can see her wearing nothing but that jersey.

Those are the things I’d do right now if I was feeling like this, and Piper were really my wife, in the way that counted. But she isn’t.

So maybe it’s lucky that right then, people start to notice us.