Page 90 of Can't Kiss the Chef

“Do you want a beer?” I ask as I open the fridge and pull one out for myself.

He nods, then looks me in the eyes.

“Did the conversation not go well?”

I pop both caps off the bottle and settle back into the couch. Byron wraps his arm around me and I snuggle into his side.

“No it did. He said he’ll set up a couple appointments but he won’t know where the best fit will be until after he talks to him this weekend.”

Byron nods before turning his attention back to the game. I know he will need to talk about it eventually. I guess now isn’t that time.

“How are the guys doing?”

34

Byron

I’m sitting in my locker in the Riley Center on Saturday afternoon with my headphones over my ears and my pre-game playlist on full blast. We are coming off an impressive eight to one win last night and I’m ready to do it all over again. Some of the guys like to talk strategy before a game–I think the moment you step in the arena on game day you should already be prepared. I prefer to reduce the risk of over complicating the game. I like to remember this is all supposed to be fun.

Coach Stevens walks into the locker room and suddenly all conversation stops. It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. I take my headphones off and place them in my locker.

“Okay boys we are still early in the season, but it doesn’t mean I want to take these games against lesser opponents lightly. We are the reigning National Champions and we will have a target on our backs all season. Do you want to add anything, captain?”

I get up already in my full pads, ready to take the ice and look around the room. Taking in the faces of the men who put their all into this pre-season.

“We are coming off a bye week, but that doesn’t mean I expect us to go out there and play like it. Remember that how you play in these games will carry over to the big time games. Let’s go out there and get this win.”

The locker room breaks into cheers with sticks banging against the wooden lockers. We take the ice to a fully packed arena. My eyes dart to the family section to see if my parents are here yet. It takes only a second to spot them. My eyes instantly find Lola, my parents are sitting on the other side of hers. Last night my dad was grateful for Dr. Adams offering to set up a second opinion. I learned that his cancer started in his pancreas and had already spread before he got his diagnosis.

We stayed away from any cancer talk after that. Opting to have a nice dinner. Oliver tagged along making it easier to keep the night light. I used the excuse of having to get a good night’s rest to avoid ruining the nice night we were having.

Lola’s sitting there dressed in all black with a leather jacket placed over her shoulders. I asked her to wear one article of Westvale clothing today and she said no. Only making my will to get her in my jersey that much stronger.

After the National Anthem I watch my dad take Mom’s hand before she laughs at something he’s said. After spending a night with my parents I can see how happy he makes her. He had the whole table laughing and me wondering where this guy had beenmy whole life. This is the dad I would have loved to have had. The one I deserved to have.

The buzzer rings and as I skate my way to the center circle to take the opening face-off. I lock eyes with Lola. I shoot her wink before I settle in for the face-off.

I get the puck out to Marcus who takes it in and scores.

The game doesn’t slow down from there. We get a quick 4-1 lead and half way through the second period I find myself sitting on the bench for longer stretches of time.

“What are those?” I ask Oliver as he pulls something out from behind his leg pads.

He dangles a gummy worm above his head before dropping it in his mouth.

“Dude what the fuck? Don’t let Coach see you,” I say as I go in and grab one.

“I mean I haven’t gotten into a game yet this season I’ll be fine.”

Without missing a beat the referee’s whistle draws our attention to the ice where a fight has broken out. Our goalie, Eric, is sprawled out whaling in pain.

It’s like Oliver summoned some kind of karma because it looks like he is about to play in his first collegiate game.

He takes the gummy worms out of his pads and tosses them to me.

Coach stares at me and I just give him a shrug. He rolls his eyes, but he lets it go. I’m sure he’s seen weirder shit in his over twenty years of coaching.

“You got this Oliver!” I yell as I rip the head off of a purple gummy worm.

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