Page 40 of His Jersey

She shakes her head. “You can’t just wave a wand and fix my life.”

I tilt my head as if that’s up for debate, then wink. “How about a hockey stick?”

With a half smile, she rolls her eyes and shakes her head before we disembark.

A sleek black SUV waits on the tarmac and brings us to the arena. My phone beeps with details about the game from Carlos. He confirms that Ella will have a spot in the VIP area and a jersey waiting for her.

“Anything else I should know?” she asks, looking at the South Carolina hockey hub in the center of the state as if she’s from a different country.

The island may as well be another world. I try to look at this through her eyes. It’s all completely foreign.

I say, “Just cheer loud.”

When we get to the underground entry to the arena, a greenish-yellow light flickers. Her grip on the seatbelt across her chest tightens. Once more, I try to see what this looks like from an outsider’s perspective.

“What is this place?” she whispers as if afraid of waking a slumbering beast.

“It’s not an underground lair.” I quickly explain that if we use the regular entrance, we’ll be mobbed.

“So, you’re saying we’re skipping the line?” she asks, as if this treatment is unusual or she’s cheating others out of their seats.

“Welcome to the wide world of hockey.”

The door opens.

My pulse increases.

It’s time. I used to get pregame jitters and still do during the playoffs, but I’ve played hundreds of regular games in my career and it’s not lost on me that it’s “play.” Yes, at an elitelevel and countless guys would love to do what I do, but it’s still meant to be fun.

Tonight, I’ll try to bring that back along with showing off my best so maybe I can stick with the Storm. Not to boast, but I’m good at hockey—maybe the only thing I’ve ever succeeded at. I have a few more solid seasons in me.

Ella walks cautiously by my side down a long hallway fitted with pipes and the building’s machinery. When we go through a blue metal door, the atmosphere changes as various members of our organization bustle around. There are guys already in their gear, managers on their devices, and family members smiling proudly.

“See? No creepy den.”

“Where do you want me?” Ella asks.

With me.

I give my head a little shake. It hadn’t occurred to me that Ella wouldn’t be by my side the entire time. Obviously, she can’t come into the locker room even though puck bunnies routinely sneak in.

Carlos appears with his hands lifted for a double high five. “My man, Juan. There you are. I’ve been texting you.”

“I know.” But I’ve been enjoying my time with Ella.

Juan?she mouths.

I shrug. “That’s what he calls me.”

Bark Wahlburger barks, announcing himself.

I make introductions.

Carlos shakes his head. “Only you, man. I cannot top that. So I take it that you want me to schedule a vet appointment, get him toys, treats?—?”

“Give him a walk and look after him during the game. Find a pet sitter for now?”

Ella starts to raise her hand and then, as if thinking better of it, studies her freshly painted nails.

---