Page 67 of Hat Trick Holidate

“Just trying to make someone’s day better. We need to rent a pressure washer, and do you have any light fixtures that look like this?” I show him thepictures.

“Sure do. I had a young lady several days ago, admiring them. Come with me.”

He climbs the ladder and hands one box at a time to me, three in all.

“She must be a special girl.”

In unison, we say, “She is.” Roman and I exchange an awkward stare.

“She’s his sister and my—” I choke down what I want to say. “My daughter’s nanny.”

His chin falls into his chest. “I see.”

My erratic breathing might give me away. I just hope Rustavelli doesn’t see what I feel. She’s so much more than a nanny. Emmaline feels like my family. It’s soon, too soon.

When we get back to her house and drop off about fifty burgers and fries to the crew, Roman and I tackle the last coat of paint on the living room walls. I hope I bought the correct color, never wanting to see disappointment in her eyes again.

Roman and I take off for practice, but Craig, my contractor, says not to worry. It’s on track to be done later tomorrow night. A part of me feels a sense of relief, and the other part doesn’t want her to leave my house.

This is the first day ever that I can remember that I wasn’t the first person on the ice. As I’m taking off my blade guards, Coach says, “Wynward. Office.”

The tone of his voice sounds like my middle school principal when I would get in trouble for taking a girl’s pencil or pulling her hair. It was never mean spirited; it was my way of flirting. My brother was the one with insane skills. Reminds me of Caleb’s hockey game.

“Coach.”

“Have a seat.”

“I’ll stand. If I sit, I might not get up,” I hold my laugh in my throat because I’m tired. I forgot how much energy manual labor takes.

He grabs a folder, takes out the contents and skims the papers. “You’re benched for the rest of the week.”

“What? No. I’m fine.”

“You’ve been the face of the franchise, and we want you healthy for the series against the Vipers next week. Use it to spend time with your daughter. For now, you need to see the doc. He’s waiting for you.”

“I’m the captain. I’ll be at every practice and every event. I’m never letting anyone down again.”

Coach gives me an apologetic look. “Wynward, this isn’t my decision. It’s the front office, and they pay a pretty penny for your skills.” He hits the papers against the desk. “After you see the doc, you have an interview to do, then go home.”

He walks out of his office, expecting me to follow, but I let it sink in.

The doctor wants to be cautious because I actually blacked out. I don’t even remember, so I guess they’re right. I don’t have to be happy about it. I take the elevator to the marketing department and film an interview about the injury and a Thanksgiving message.

“Come out to Jets Stadium on Thanksgiving for a hot meal. Let me serve the people of Atlanta for giving me a home, a hockey family, and for being the best fans in the league. Some of the players are going home for the holidays, but those of us who are in town, will be there.”

It only takes a couple of cuts, and I head back down to the ice and sit high in the stands, watching my teammates,making mental notes to discuss with them. Lykins drifts to the left every time, taking up precious ice that Reeds needs to maneuver.

Every time Reed is in a fast break, Lykins is too close. He needs to spread the floor. When practice is over, I meet them in the locker room and give them the bad news. Then I take Lykins aside to the whiteboard and show him.

Me: Do you and Jolie want to meet me for dinner?

Emmaline: Pick your favorite casual restaurant close by so Jolie and I can walk.

Me: Sloane’s on the corner of Eisenhower and Tenth St. Ten-minute walk from my house.

Emmaline: Getting on our tennies.

Why does a simple word make me smile?

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