“About that,” I say, and I take a deep breath. Holy shit. This is hard, and I practiced. I practiced with others. I practiced in class. But now it’s real. My hands feel clumsy already. What if I mess this up? What if he doesn’t understand what I’m trying to say? But this is how I’ll fight for her. I don’t speak the words. I sign them.
I am serious about her. I will fight for her.
His jaw slackens, his hand hovering in the air like he’s about to gesture but doesn’t know what to do. It’s like I’ve knocked his world off its axis. He’s quiet for a long, long time, his gaze switching between my hands and my face, like he’s seeing me in a whole new way. We might even be nearing San Francisco when he finally answers me in the same language.
When did you learn?
No more lies. No more secrets. I don’t have to tell him what we did on our first date. But I can tell him I signed up for an American Sign Language class a year ago, right after I found out Leighton knew it.
I can hear her voice telling me during our first stairwell encounter:Just in case.
I’m not fast at making words. I’m not perfect. I’m sure I’m getting some things wrong, but I do it anyway.A year ago.
His lips part, but he says nothing, just shakes his head.It’s not like he’s saying no though. It’s like…he’s astonished.
Well, there’s more where that came from.
I keep going, signing what I practiced before I hit the ice today so I could get it right.I want to communicate with her for the rest of her life.
She doesn’t need to use ASL now. She may not need it ever. But I want a future with her for all time. I can almost hear her teasing me, sharing her opinion, telling me I didn’t have to go this far. But I do. She’s worth it, and I want her to know I’ll show up for her every day.
Coach covers his mouth, sighs heavily, then mutters, “Goddammit, Falcon.”
I’m not sure what that means, and all the uncertainty rushes through my veins, but so, too, does the certainty of what’s next—the future with Leighton.
His head hangs.
Disappointment reverberates through me. He’s still pissed off? What can I ever do to win back his respect?
But then he turns to me again, speaking in a lower voice. “I’m mad at you, Falcon. But you are the right man for her.”
And I’m a firework. I’m a ticker-tape parade. I’m hoisting Lord Stanley’s Cup.
“Thank you, sir,” I say, all the emotion and thrill coursing through me.
I’m about to pop out of my seat when he pushes down with his hand, telling me to stay. He lifts a finger to make a point. “But I don’t know if a man who keeps this a secret is the right man for a captain,” he says, and that’s fair.
That’s so fucking fair.
I sign back,That’s fine.Then I say, “If that means I get Leighton, that’s what I want.”
“And the reason why is you kept secrets from me. I need to trust you if you’re captain. Don’t do that with her. Don’t lie to her,” he says, sterner than he’s ever been.
“I won’t. I promise,” I say, so sincerely, meaning it to the depths of my soul.
He nods, accepting my word. “You better go fix what you fucked up.”
I will,I sign, and I try to wipe the smile off my face, but it’s useless. I can’t stop grinning.
I pop up, but then one more question hits me before I reach the aisle. “Are you trading me?” I ask.
He tilts his head. “Why would you ask?”
“I heard a rumor,” I say, and I’m not lying to him, but I’m not revealing my sources. “I hope the answer is no, but don’t think you can get rid of me that easily. I’ll make it work with your daughter no matter what,” I say, smiling once again. Then signing,She’s worth it.
“You fucking pain in the ass,” he mutters. Then he sighs and says, “Chicago called about you. They floated a number. A good number.”
I hold my breath. “And?”