Page 49 of Tempest

Sadie tags along, too, and they chatter, pointing out all the different amenities the arena holds. Tori says there is a lounge reserved for families of the players, but both girls say they don’t like it in there as much as they like to be with the fans.

We go from stand to stand, picking out a variety of items. Sadie tries to talk me into a peanut butter hot dog, but I can’t go that far down this rabbit hole. I do indulge, though, something I haven’t done since moving to Seattle. We end up with birria tacos, vegetarian nachos, salmon chowder, and I grab a local beer, as well.

I’ll pay for it all later, but I want to live in this moment, in case it’s the only time. I learned a long time ago to savor things, enjoy it all while it lasts. Life doesn’t offer guarantees.

By the time we get back to the seats, the game is about to start. The lights dim and a movie-like production starts to play on the big screens overhead. Each of the Blades is announced with their picture projected. I can’t deny Gavin is the best looking, though all in all, the team is very good-looking.

He’s right, though, this is obviously a younger man’s sport. Some of the men look barely old enough to drink.

The game starts; everything moves so fast, it’s impossible for me to keep up. Tori is good at giving me commentary throughout. Every time the whistle blows, she explains why, making sure I understand the concepts of things like offsides and icing.

“Brighton is hot dogging,” Tori says.

“That’s not going to end well for him,” Sadie says.

“What’s that mean?”

“It’s showboating. Some of the younger hotshots do it, usually an elder player will have a few words for them,” Isla explains. And sure enough, Vaughn skates over to the kid, chest to chest. We can’t hear what he says, but the younger player tries to talk back. Vaughn just smiles while one of the guy’s teammates pulls him away.

“Looks like it’s going to be a chippy game,” Tori says, then turns to me to explain further. “It’s going to be very physical.”

I watch with rapt attention, standing to cheer with everyone else when Seattle scores a goal. The arena chants along with the music and it’s more fun than I could have anticipated. Looks like I’ve been missing out by avoiding sports in favor of classy dinner parties and industry events.

“You’re enjoying yourself,” Isla says during the intermission between the first and second periods.

“Much more than I thought I would,” I confirm.

“Hockey is the best,” Sadie sings.

“I have to agree with you there, Sadie.”

“Really? So, you’ll come to more games now?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yeah, you’re pretty and I like your shirt.”

“Oh, well, thank you. You’re pretty, too.”

“I know, my dad says it all the time. You’re as pretty as your mom, Sadie Baby. That’s what he calls me. Even though I’m not a baby, I let him call me that. I’m going to be old and he’s still going to be calling me that,” she says, rolling her eyes, but she smiles as she does it.

“Your dad is a nice guy.”

“Yep,” she says. “The whole team is. But Hugo is kinda weird.”

“It’s a goalie thing,” Tori says. “They’re all a bit weird.”

“I guess you’d have to be,” I say.

“For sure,” Sadie says.

The second period starts with a bang. The young “hotdogger” from the other team makes a shitty hit on Letty. I only know it’s shitty because Tori tells me it is after the arena boos in unison. Letty leaves the ice and immediately walks the tunnel to the locker rooms.

“He hit his bucket pretty hard, they’ll go through concussion protocol,” Tori says.

“Is that common? Concussions?”

“They’ve made strides to make the sport safer, but not enough,” she says. “That fucker should have been ejected, but they gave him a two-minute minor instead. The league will review it tomorrow and likely have a hearing that could end up in a suspension, but that doesn’t prevent anything like this from happening again.”

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