Page 45 of Rafferty

“I can attest to that,” I say and then amend, “Except the boyish part.”

“He’s in love,” Farren says, and I jerk, turning to face her. She grins at me. “It’s true. Mark my words.”

I stare at her because… well, if that’s the case, will he tell me himself?

“And you care for him deeply too,” she observes. “This is the real deal.”

“It feels very real,” I admit. “And I’m terrified.”

“Rafferty will never hurt you. He doesn’t have it in him.”

“No, he doesn’t.” It’s one of the things I know without a doubt.

“I suppose I should start telling you a bunch of embarrassing things about him, huh?” she says with an evil smile.

“Now does seem like the appropriate moment,” I say in a conspiratorial whisper.

We cackle and my mom calls out, “What’s so funny in there?”

“Nothing,” I call back, winking at Farren. “Just girl talk.”

I’m not sure, but I think I faintly hear Rafferty groan and that starts me laughing even harder.

CHAPTER 18

Rafferty

My teammate Hendrix,a defenseman on the second line, is engaged to a woman named Stevie who happens to own a place called Jerry’s Lounge. It’s named after her grandfather, who opened the place, and she’s been running it since she turned eighteen. It’s become a more private type of hangout for the team. Often we’ll go across the street from the arena after a win and hang out at Mario’s in a VIP section the owners rope off. We’ll step outside the ropes and mingle with the fans, giving back to them because the Titans have the fiercest, most loyal fan base in the league.

But sometimes, we just want to be regular people hanging out. We don’t want to be famous hockey players who have to live up to a certain persona, so we gather at Stevie’s.

The patrons here are eclectic, ranging from bikers to old, retired factory workers. It’s as blue collar as you can get and our presence doesn’t seem to provoke the same frenzied excitement that we get at Mario’s. Here we can hang in the back near the pool tables and congregate around high-tops, egging each other on as we compete in billiards and darts, none of us being that great but having fun, nonetheless.

Since I joined the team, Atlas, North, King and I have often met up here for beers to relax and shoot the shit.

Tonight, we’re here to celebrate our win over the Montreal Wizards and the bar is alive with the buzz of victory. The chatter and laughter of teammates and their partners blend into a melody of celebration and the beer flows freely.

I sit at a large table surrounded by the people who make up our inner circle. Most important is Tempe, joining the gang for the first time to enjoy our post-win celebration. Also at our table is King, Willa, Foster, Mazzy, Atlas, North and my sister Farren. Nearby, Boone and Bain are engaged in a fierce battle of darts while Kiera and Lilly cheer them on. Camden and Danica are partnered against Hendrix and Stevie in a game of nine ball, but there’s nothing competitive about that scenario. Stevie is so good at the game, she could probably travel the professional circuit.

The game against the Wizards was a clincher, putting us solidly at the top of our division. But the highlight, at least for me, wasn’t just the win—it was scoring a short-handed goal that had the crowd roaring. Yet, as sweet as the praise feels, having Tempe here, wearing my jersey and cheering me on, adds a layer of happiness that victory alone can’t touch.

King lifts his glass, his booming voice cutting through the noise, “To Rafferty, for that sick goal and keeping us on top!”

“Didn’t know you could skate that fast,” Atlas teases.

“Bite me,” I snap back with a grin.

Glasses clink and I smile, taking a sip of my beer, looking at Tempe over the rim. She’s laughing at something North says and I don’t know what, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that she fits in so seamlessly. Things have changed so fast, but after spending yesterday with her and her family to celebrate Christmas—with my own sister in tow—I realized that my feelings are very deep. I’ve never had a relationship that felt so right before, and it makes me think of the future in a different way.

Before, all I could see was my hockey career, how it could be developed and maximized. Now when I look forward, all I see is Tempe. Sure, I see hockey, but I can’t see it without her in my jersey, screaming for me as I race down the ice to score. Those are the moments I want every day and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep them.

As the revelry continues, my mind wanders back to a quieter moment yesterday at Tempe’s house. While she and Farren were in the kitchen making hot chocolate, I sat with her mom in the living room. Natalie is an easygoing woman and rather than be suspicious of my motives, given the way I met her daughter, she’s charmed by the entire story.

“I haven’t seen Tempe happy like this in a long time,” she mused as she set one of the cookbooks I bought for her aside. I took the love seat adjacent to her.

“She’s been worried about you.”

“I hate being a burden to her,” she said sadly, waving her hand. “And now she won’t go back next semester. Thinks I can’t take care of myself.”

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