Page 91 of My Pucking Crush

Everyone quietly chants something, and I say, “Let’s send Albany home early and then cheer our asses off for Cape May.”

Voodoo, anything tonotplay Richmond.

“Here, here,” Willis, my center hoots, and the team thunders in agreement

Coach Beck says a few words, handing out specific shout-outs to players who got us here. He looks at me, but I shake my head. I don’t want any recognition tonight.

The others cackle in response to Coach’s pep talk as we line up at the double doors leading to the rink. It opens, and we roar down the narrow hallway. Muffled announcements from the ice vibrate the cement walls. Our march across the rubber floors is caught on a pregame show thanks to the cameras all around us.

I’m used to it.

The arena is dark but loud, with deafening howls from the crowd as I step onto the ice. My blade connects to the slick surface. I always sigh a little when the teeth of my front blade, that tiny groove digs into the ice and gives me the power to skate like I was born on blades.

My legs pump as the team warms up, skating in practiced circles before a crowd of eighteen thousand, not including media and the private corporate boxes or staff.

The cheers and foot pounding make the damn place shake. It hits me that we pulled it off. Richmond tried to keep us out of the playoffs, but here we are. And without anyone outside of the organization knowing I was hurt.

I survived. I thrived. Luca had something to do withthat. As he’s done at all the other games we’ve played, he takes his position behind the players’ benches and watches the crowd.

He’s talking on a radio and pointing to the seats directly behind the team. Long rows, several deep for family are cordoned off with a black, red, and gold ribbon, the team’s colors.

Someone must have told Luca to seat someone important. My heart lands in my throat when I see...my parents.

Every year, I send them the family tickets I get for each game, usually giving the rest to other players with big families.

“It’s too long of a drive to Stamford,”Mom complains when I ask her about why they never come.

I’d offered to send limos and put them up in hotels. The excuses just evolve from there.

Now they’re here. Luca gets them settled and my gut twists seeing him with them. God, they’ll hate him. They hate me for giving in to my baser needs for a man. That I couldn’t pray away the gay, or suck it up, and just take a wife for appearances.

Instead, I chose to look like a manwhore to the hockey world. Something they hadn’t said boo about.

Singer Kris Peters, a Stamford native and Broadway star, belts out a version of the National Anthem that nearly brings me to tears. The refs go through the motions with the forwards before dropping the puck. I take my place with Hayden on my left.

Our forward, Willis, doesn’t get the puck, but it’s early. Like a thoroughbred thundering out of the gate at the Kentucky Derby, I won’t tire myself out, or kill my team’s stamina two seconds in.

During my first break, I get to my seat and look for my parents, expecting to see them looking for me. No,Dad is looking at the program, and Mom is scrolling on her phone.

Luca watches them, his brows furrowed. Maybe it’s because I’m not on the ice. I can’t be staring at the stands when I’m skating. I’ll catch a stick to the face.

But minutes into my next shift, Paloma, the Albany right winger, cracks my helmet’s vision guard with his stick in a lucky shot. The bench clears out, including the trainers. Luca is the first on the ice to lunge for Paloma.

“God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I miscalculated the shot. It wasn’t intentional,” Paloma pleads with me.

I have no reason not to believe him. It happens.

The time clock stops while officials watch the replay to see if it was premeditated. I breathe easier when the hit was deemed unintentional.

Paloma takes a standard penalty during a crucial time of the game. A horrible thing to happen in the playoffs.

Luca finds me and crouches in front of me. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” I nod. “Paloma’s stick caught my helmet frame and rattled my brain for a second.” I don’t vocalize that it reminded me for the first time in a week I’m mortal. Even made me a little afraid that I could get seriously hurt.

Luca called it from the beginning. They’ll get me on the ice if they want to. But this is a player from Albany, and I’ve never known him to be malicious.

The game resumes and the patience we started with pays off. By the end of the second period, we’re up by two goals.

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