Page 9 of Boarded Hearts

“Alright, buddy. Blades, okay?” I reply in a relaxed tone.

He lifts a shoulder in a slight shrug. “Yeah, I think so, I sent them off for sharpening after practice; they look on point.”

Zach still hasn’t looked at me. I sit down next to him with a thud, resting my forearms on my thighs, and turn my head to look at him. “We good, man? You know I got your back, right? Always have, always will.”

His lip tips up at the corner. “Yeah, I know, I just…I know how you feel about Amie, but she’s good for me, you know? She makes me happy.”

I’ve never been very good at poker, mostly because I wear my thoughts firmly on my sleeve, but for the sake of our friendship and the game tonight, I forcibly swallow my concerns and pat him lightly on the back. “As long as you’re happy, bro, then I’m happy.”

With that, I stand and quickly change the subject. “New York is going to come at us tonight, so we’ve got to be on top of our game.”

Zach’s face hardens as he rips a lace from his skate and looks me dead in the eye. “Bring it.”

I’m always last to be called out onto the ice, and as I stand at the edge of the tunnel, stick in hand, ready to hit the ice for warm-up, my blood surges through my body.

“And welcoming back to the ice we have a future hall of famer, NHL top goal scorer, Stanley Cup winner, and your captain…Jon Morgan!”

The crowd erupts as I glide out on the ice, lights flashing, music blaring. Yeah, this is why I do this. I take a lap with my stick in the air, acknowledging the crowd as I always do. As I pass by my box, my eyes flick up, they’re a distance away, but I can just about make out the figures of Mom and Dad with their hands above their heads, clapping. Adam is waving his arms around in excitement, his blue ear defenders on to help with the noise, but the lights are sending him wild. He seems happy tonight though, and I point at him with my stick and wink, sending the jumbotron to his face. The crowd cheers at that, knowing Adam’s story. I’ve spent a lot of time using my position to raise as much awareness of autism as I can. I love that he’s here. I may be earning millions and living my dream, but Adam’s my hero. The way he takes everything in his stride and faces challenges every day of his life. He’s dealt with his fair share of discrimination and sometimes cruelty, especially during high school. Yet, he never let the bullies win. His inner strength, along with the help of my fists, meant they never stood a chance.

I make my way to center ice and collect a puck, ready to take a few warmup shots at Jensen. At this point before a game, I’d normally be fully focused, locked in, with the crowd and everyone else around me a mere blur. Yet tonight, hockey shares a place in my mind with something else. Since I laid eyes on her, she’s rented a space in my brain, my every thought. I have no idea if those tickets she collected were for her, but there’s a growing feeling in my chest that hopes she’s here, somewhere, watching me. I find myself scanning the crowd for wavy chocolate hair and emerald eyes, but I come up empty and disappointed. Still, thoughts that she might be watching give me added motivation to bring my best.

The game is as tough as expected. New York is dirty; they play dirty, fight dirty, and talk shit constantly. Top of my shit list is their alternate captain, Alex Schneider. He’s a dickhead, plain and simple. Also thirty-four, he played with me at college in Michigan. Born in Germany and raised in the US, he’s a top player in the league. Trouble is, his attitude stinks. He’s responsible for a string of career-ending injuries, and for all the money he’s made, he’s probably paid out half in fines. I hate him, he hates me, and let’s just say, there’s no love lost between Schneider, Zach, and every other player in this league. Hell, even his own teammates think he’s an asshole.

The buzzer goes, indicating the end of the second period, and we’re two points up thanks to a thunderous early lead from me and a great slap shot from Jessie. Jensen is on fire, and we’re on for a shut-out if we can hold them in the third.

“Morgan! Is your family here?” A snide smile traces Schneider’s lips as he shoulders past me, skating backward on his way off the ice. I know what he’s trying to say; he’s always talked shit about my mom but never dared to bring Adam into it. My mom though? She's a good-looking woman, and he takes full advantage of this to try and crawl under my skin.

“Out in full force,” I retort in an unaffected tone, and turn away to congratulate Jessie on his screamer, when it happens…

The birthday messages begin to flash over the jumbotron, and I look up right when the camera lands on a young kid, red-faced and wearing an oversized “I’m eighteen” pin on his chest. Honestly, he looks mortified, and I’m mortified for him. But it’s not the pin that steals my attention—it’s the beauty to his right, my emerald angel. Kissing the boy’s cheek, she giggles and ruffles his hair with her dainty hand. It’s this sight that almost has my skates giving out underneath me.

Fuck me. She’s stunning. She’s the sort of stunning only the most talented artists can create, and it’s right there and then, I know I’m totally fucked.

As if she senses my gaze, she looks up at the screen and flushes that adorable deep shade of magenta. Casting her eyes out to where I stand on the ice, I can see her, watching me while I stand rooted to the spot, watching her on the screen, and I swear, a wave of sweet coconut hits my senses from all angles. I can see the plexiglass in front of her, so I know she’s near the ice, but I just need to work out where. Time stands still as the ice clears around me.

A gloved hand lands on my shoulder as Zach pulls up alongside me. “Who’s the girl?”

I don’t answer immediately as I’m still too mesmerized, but slowly, I open my mouth. “My angel.”

Zach puffs out a humored breath. “Okay, buddy. Come on, we need to head off.”

He tugs at my arm, eventually tearing my gaze away, but in a last-minute plea, I raise my glove and point at the screen. If I can’t locate her then sure as shit the twenty thousand people in this stadium can. With that simple action, the crowd goes wild. I wink in response, taking it up a decibel or two before turning to skate off the ice.

Striding toward the locker room, I can’t wipe the shit eating grin off my face. She’s here.

FELICITY

Right now, that great big slab of ice looks very appealing.

What I wouldn’t give to lie my cheeks flat on the freezing surface to ease the burning. I look like a tomato; I don’t need a mirror to know that my entire face and neck are brighter than the surface of the sun. How had I not expected to appear on the jumbotron when I forced Jack to wear that ridiculous badge? I howled in his face when he opened it on the way here. Turns out, jokes on me.

“Does he know you, Mum?!” A once again giddy Jack asks in between bites of his hot dog. I compensated him for his badge-related devastation by buying him all the snacks he wanted during the break, and I think he’s just about forgiven me, plus he’s now too distracted with curiosity over attention from a certain hockey player to care.

“Nope, he must have us confused with someone else, honey.” Lame response, I know, one Jack doesn’t believe, and neither do I.

“Yeah, okay, the way he looked at you. He definitely knows you.”

I don’t reply. Instead, I’m saved by the start of the third period. The players skate out onto the ice, and I bury my face beneath my favorite green scarf. But while it keeps me warm, it makes a terrible disguise as Jon rejoins the ice and heads straight over to us.

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