Page 55 of The Game She Hates

Perched on the edge of my seat, I wrap my arms around myself in a futile attempt to ward off the freezing air of the Detroit arena. I’m grateful for Zane’s jersey layered on top of my red dress, but I should have also brought a scarf for my cold legs.

I can’t tear my eyes away from Zane, tracing his every move as he zooms across the ice. Every flick of his stick, every shot he takes, and every bend of his legs fills me with a flutter of concern. It’s like I’m out there with him, feeling every slip and stumble as if it were my own.

When things start to get dicey, I’m closing my eyes and praying for his safety, hoping he stays steady on his skates.

I’m still getting used to the attention that comes with being known as Zane’s girl. There have been enough headlines about us that people are recognizing me from every angle. That’s why I tried to look my best today, I simply never know when a fan might snap a picture.

In the beginning, I couldn’t shake off the insecurity that crept in when I compared myself to his exes, who seem to be straight out of a magazine. But I’ve been working on letting go of those joy-stealing comparisons. I might not fit the mold of what social media deems as beautiful, but Zane sees me as his perfect match, and the way he treasures me is all that matters to me. He’s the man I prayed for, and he exceeds all my expectations abundantly every single day.

Zane’s dad and aunt are sitting with me. The four of us drove together in Zane’s rental car to Detroit from Chicago. While Zane and his dad were trying to bridge the gap to find a connection, Aunt Melissa and I instantly hit it off over our shared love of books. We discovered we had the same taste in genres and had devoured the works of the same authors. So, naturally, the entire drive was spent gushing over our favorite reads and swapping recommendations.

She is an incredible woman of faith, with a maternal aura that enveloped me. Even though she didn’t have kids of her own, she cared for Zane like he was hers.

Her eyes sparkled with love whenever she spoke of her late husband, and her positivity was truly inspiring. Curious about her ability to discuss him without succumbing to tears, I asked her secret. She explained that she faced each day with hope, knowing she was one day closer to reuniting with him and Jesus’ sustenance is all she needs to make it through.

I loved being around her, and I could see myself and Zane spending many of our holidays with her and his dad. It also didn’t hurt that she was a hugger like me.

Behind us, Tyler’s wife, Lacey and her four kids cheer enthusiastically. When the referee’s orange armband goes up for an icing call, Tyler’s wife leans over to explain. “The other team shot the puck behind that red line in the center,” she says, pointing to it. “So they have to stop the play and do a face-off.” She’s been our go-to for all things hockey, and her adorable children have chimed in with their own explanations a few times.

Aunt Melissa chuckles, admitting, “I’ve never had much luck following the puck. But then again, I’m not really trying.” She pauses, then adds with a grin, “I only watch his games to catch glimpses of my boy when I miss him.”

Ditto. My focus hasn’t left Zane either but when anyone on his team scores, I’m cheering with the enthusiasm of someone who understands the game inside out.

Unlike Aunt Melissa, who’s been to Zane’s games in Chicago a few times, Zane’s dad is experiencing it all for the first time, taking in every moment with wide-eyed wonder. He’s the most focused of us all. He seems to be following all the action on the ice and his lack of questions suggests he understands the proceedings better than us.

With striking blue eyes and the same hair color as his son, he’s a mirror image of Zane in many ways.

When Zane is substituted off the ice, he sends a smirk in our direction and winks at me. My cheeks flush with warmth, and I respond by miming, “I love you.” To my delight, he is able to read my lips and places his hand over his chest in the shape of a heart. Even behind his helmet, his happiness is off the chart.

During the last timeout, I give Robyn a call. Even though I know she’s not missing the game, a twinge of guilt tugs at me for being here while she’s not. “Hey, Robs.”

“P, we’re totally crushing it!” she screams excitedly over the phone. “I can’t even wrap my head around the fact that you’re at the final game. Oh, and thanks a bunch for the pictures. I’ve already posted them on my socials. If people want to think I’m chilling in VIP seats in Detroit instead of being on our cozy couch at home, well, that’s on them.”

I let out a chuckle. “I can’t believe I’m here either. But I do feel bad. Why didn’t you take Zane up on the offer for a flight here? Turning down a hockey game, all expenses paid, doesn’t sound like you at all.”

“Wow, so I don’t jump at the chance to take advantage of your boyfriend for once, and you feel bad?”

“You know Zane loves treating you to a game. It’s not taking advantage if he offers.”

“I’m kidding. I promised Charlie I’d help her find a place to stay. She’s being evicted from her apartment. And turns out, she likes hockey too. So she came by and we’re watching the game together.”

“Hmm, where’s my best friend and what have you done with her?” I joke. Robyn was your typical introvert. Making friends never came easy to her, but ever since meeting Charlie on baptism Sunday, they’ve stayed in touch. It actually makes me feel less guilty for spending so much time with Zane, knowing Robyn isn’t hanging out by herself. But still, it’s pretty intriguing. I’m curious to see the girl Robyn’s tolerating, on top of me. I already know I’m quite a handful for her.

“I’m not kidding. I’m really looking forward to you meeting her. I have a feeling you two will hit it off. She’s a bit younger than us, around four years or so, but she’s the sweetest person. Honestly, she reminds me a lot of you.”

“Ah, now it all makes sense. I’m glad you’ve found a friend and it’s kind of cool knowing I have some influence over your choices. Hehe.”

“Don’t flatter yourself too much,” she teases. “The game is back on. Here’s hoping Zane hits the ice again. We could really use another one of his goals.”

“I know I still have my cheering voice ready to root for him. Anyways, love you! Say hi to Charlie for me. We’ll definitely hang out when I come back.”

The call ends, and right on cue, Zane strides back onto the ice, looking ready to finish strong.

Zane emerges from the locker room, looking all cleaned up. I’m standing near the door where he asked me to wait for him, surrounded by Tyler’s family and a few other spouses and girlfriends. We’re both traveling back with his team tomorrow afternoon, but his dad and aunt had to leave immediately after the game because they have an early flight in the morning.

As soon as he spots me, he rushes over and envelops me in a hug that seems to swallow me whole. He lifts me effortlessly, as if I weigh no more than a leaf, my legs dangling in the air. I relish how perfectly I fit inside his arms, as if there’s a cocoon of space just meant for me. His scent, a blend of citrus and spice from his body wash, wafts into my senses, making me want to cling to him forever.

He is dressed in sweatpants and a cozy Glaciers hoodie and guides me to settle by the now nearly deserted rink, where the echoes of the game still linger.

---