Page 1 of Passing the Red Line
PROLOGUE
18 YEARS OLD
Eliana
It’s my senior year.
The year where I should still be acting like a kid before getting thrown into the grown-up world. I should be out and enjoying life before heading off to college. I should be partying and drinking with my friends. Going to football games, all while pretending that I actually care about the sport and having the time of my life. I should be looking for a dress for prom next month and picking out outfits for my Europe trip this summer.
I should be doing so many fun things and enjoying these last few weeks of freedom that I have, but instead I’m stuck attending hockey games on a Saturday.
Well, I shouldn’t say stuck, since Ichoseto be here, but still. I could be spending my time doing something a lot more productive rather than spending all day in an arena with a bunch of parents that think their kid is the next NHL legend.
Newsflash, there’s a ninety-nine-point nine percent chance that they won’t.
Don’t get me wrong, I love hockey, I do, but I learned at a very young age that there is more to life than a stick and a puck. More to living than spending every waking hour on the ice shooting a rubber disc or doing speed drills.
That thought process is something that came from being the daughter of an NHL player. It’s something that my mom drilled into my head from the bright age of five. Hockey is not the most important thing in the world. There are other things that make life happy and bright.
That thought process, though, is not something that has been able to make it through the heads of my father or my boyfriend.
My dad I get, since hockey has been a part of his life since he was about two and it continued well into adulthood with a professional career. And it’s going to continue since he just got offered the head coach position for the Dark Knights of Chicago.
How he was able to step away from hockey for a bit to get married and have a kid is beyond me. The man made hockey his everything and it’s part of the reason why he and my mom are now divorced, and I see him once a month.
As for my boyfriend, he has also been playing since he was about two, and he’s good and according to my dad has the potential to go places, but the dude can’t go ten minutes without mentioning anything not related to the damn sport.
We've been together for close to a year and at first it was cute how much he talked about the sport he loved but after a while it got annoying.
But nonetheless I’m the supportive girlfriend and attend every single game.
Which is why I’m currently in a random ice rink three hours from home on a lovely Saturday, cheering on my boyfriend, Kalen, in his second game of the day.
I would much rather be shopping with my best friend, but instead I’m sitting next to my boyfriend's parents surviving on snack bar nachos and room temperature water.
“Peter,” Kalen’s mom, Liz, says, nudging her husband. “Peter,” she says again, trying to get the man’s attention.
It takes a whole minute for him to acknowledge his wife.
“What Liz?” he asks, almost annoyed that she would interrupt him while the game is going on.
You’re here because of Kalen. You are here because of Kalen.
I tell myself, trying my hardest not to let my dislike for his parents bother me as much as it usually does. They are good people when they want to be.
“Is that a scout over there?” Liz asks, pointing to a man a few rows down.
Both Peter and I look over to where she is pointing and right away, I can see why she would think that he would be a scout. The way the man is watching the game and quickly typing on his phone a few seconds later gives it away.
I’ve been to enough hockey games in my lifetime to be able to spot one. Hell, I know a few of them because they are buddies with my dad.
The man that Liz is pointing at is in fact a scout. Do I know him? Doubt it.
Peter is not even able to answer before Liz starts talking again.
“I think it is. He has to be here for Kalen,” Liz states practically jumping up and down in her seat.
A part of me wants to burst her bubble and tell that if the man is a scout there’s maybe a two percent chance he’s here for Kalen. There’s a higher chance he’s here for one of his opponents, but I’m not that cruel.
