Page 80 of His Jersey

I hope that I’ve assuaged her fears, that she feels secure and supported, and never doubts us again.

When we land, a brand new black Ford Raptor waits for us at the airstrip. Bark Wahlburger takes a lap around it as if approving of my purchase and then waits patiently by the door. I guess there’s no getting rid of him now.

Ella points at the license plate KNT-10 and says, “Knight number ten? A little braggy, no?”

“Blame Carlos.”

She waves her hand like a magic wand. “Wow. Money moves things fast. You said you wanted a truck. You have a truck.”

Mostly, I want her.

I open the passenger side door for Ella and then get behind the wheel.

She sniffs the air. “So the new car smell thing is real.”

The comment reminds me that we’re from different worlds. But I want to be in whichever one she’s in—new truck or not.

She peers out the window as we cruise toward Cobbiton, Nebraska, our new home for the foreseeable future.

It’s nearly dusk when we reach the town to do a quickdrive-through. From the flight above, it was farmland for what seemed like forever until Omaha popped up like a kernel in a kettle.

When we pull onto Main Street, I’m pleasantly surprised by how quaint it is.

“This could be from the pages of a storybook,” Ella says in awe.

“Or a Hallmark movie.”

She bunches up her hands under her chin. “Those are my favorites.”

“They all have the same plot,” I say because it’s true and also to play it cool. I mean, it’s not like I’d watch them on my own … except maybe around Christmas.

“They all have a happily ever after,” Ella says as if that’s what is most important. “Hold up. You’ve seen Cinderella and know about Hallmark movies. Explain yourself, man.”

“I didn’t grow up under a rock.”

She arches her eyebrow as if knowing there’s more to the story.

“My mother was a big fan, too.”

Ella bounces in her seat. “I knew I’d love her.”

Those words press against my ribs. Mom would’ve adored Ella, possibly fought me for her time—taking her shopping, to the spa, and they’d eat popcorn and watch Hallmark movies together in matching silk pajamas instead of watching my games.

But I wouldn’t mind so much.

“Welcome to Hockey Town and our new home,” I say grandly as we cruise past the wooden sign. “We’ll find a place later this week.”

“You just keep waving that hockey stick, Jack.” She chuckles like she hardly believes her ears or eyes.

Main Street and the intersecting 4thStreet include theusual suspects like a coffee shop, book store, hair salon, and a few clothing boutiques.

“The arena used to be in Omaha, but they had major parking problems, sending the construction of the new Ice Palace to Cobbiton, a short ride away. It’s a hockey player’s playground with modern upgrades. The townspeople are hugely supportive,” I say, having learned this during a brief conversation with the team captain.

With the rear window open, Bark Wahlburger’s tongue hangs out of his mouth as the breeze flops back his ears.

Eyes wide, Ella stares out the window. I picture us walking hand in hand down the sidewalk, hoping that I’ve just glimpsed our future.

I park in front of the Ice Palace, a glimmering structure made of glass and steel, and add, “This will be my second home.”

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