Page 89 of When Alec Met Evie
“Yeah, they’re all good. Landed and on the ground and getting a rental car.”
Evie grumbles. “I wish they’d just let me come pick them up.”
“It would have been a tight fit in your Honda. They’re fine. They don’t mind getting a car,” I say. “Will you still meet them at my house before the game?”
“Yeah, but I’ll work that out with Megan. You just focus on you. We’ll figure out everything else.”
“But you know where to pick up the tickets? My mom has asked me at least three times.”
“Alec,” she gently chides. “We’ll be fine. Stop worrying.”
I force myself to take a deep breath. It’s been a long time since Evie has seen me play in person, and she’s never seen meplay as an Appie. Even though I know she doesn’t care about my stats, I still want to play my best. With my family watching too, I’d love to have a game that’s better than my current average, because right now, I’m playing my worst season on record.
Every game, my minutes played gets lower and lower, a combination of me changing myself out faster, whenever my knee starts to hurt, and Coach Davis shuffling defensive pairs, switching us up, looking for better chemistry, more effective combinations.
I don’t like to think about what it all means, so I’m mostly justnot, instead channeling all my energy into the parts of my job Icancontrol. Working with Theo. Keeping team morale up. Babying my knee.
“I’m done worrying,” I say to Evie. “I just want everyone to have a good time.”
“We will. We’ll be watching you. That’s all that matters.”
We talk for a few more minutes, then say goodbye as I turn into the Summit parking lot and pull into my usual spot. A few spaces down, Felix is standing next to his Audi, and he lifts his hand in a wave.
In between the parking lot and the Summit, a crowd of fans lines the sidewalk. We’re still hours away from puck drop, but this is a home game, and fans have learned that if they come early, we’ll usually stop on our way inside to sign autographs or take pictures.
Felix reaches my side. “You ready for this?” he asks, motioning to the crowd.
I shoot him a look. “Are we ever really ready for this?”
Parker is outside, filming our progress toward the stadium, and she waves, giving us each a thumbs up to let us know she has the content she needs. The videos she makes highlighting the team walking into the arena are always a hit, something that’s led a lot of guys to get flashier and flashier with their game-daysuits. Last home game, Dumbo wore Appies turquoise from head to toe—pants, dress shirt, suit, even his shoes.
Felix and I spend the next few minutes making our way down the line, signing posters, jerseys, and hats, and posing for at least a dozen different selfies.
“How are you?” I say to a little girl holding a team poster. “Want me to sign that for you?”
She nods, then hands it over. “You’re my second-favorite Appie,” she says as she pushes her glasses up her nose.
“Yeah? Just your second? Who’s got the top spot?” I drop to a knee in front of her so I can talk to her eye-to-eye while I sign.
Her gaze shifts past me and pauses on Felix. “Jamison’s my favorite because I’m a goalie and he’s a goalie, but every good goalie needs solid defensemen, so I decided you should be a favorite too.”
I lift my eyebrows as I hand the poster back to her. “Well, I appreciate that.”
“You guys weren’t really vibing at your last game, though. Jamison let some shots through, but you didn’t have his back like you should have,” the little girl says.
It’s weird to hear criticism coming from someone so small, but she’s not exactly wrong. Our last game ended with one of our ugliest losses of the season. It takes a whole team to win or lose a game, and our offense was weaker than usual, with Eli and Logan spending way too much time in the penalty box, but Felixwasleft on his own more than he should have been.
Felix moves up beside me as I stand, and I can tell by his amused expression he heard every word of the little girl’s critique.
“The last shot in the third period?” she goes on. “For real. Where were you? Were you even watching the puck?”
“Okay, Bree. That’s enough.” A hand drops on her shoulder, and I look up to meet the gaze of a guy who I assume is her father.
“Sorry,” he says. “She’s really into the sport. We’re all big fans.”
“We appreciate it,” I say, then I look down at Bree, mostly amused but still slightly discomfited by her honest critique. “We’ll try to play better for you today, all right?”
As soon as we’re inside the Summit and away from the crowd, Felix gives me a good-natured shove. “Yeah, Sheridan. Why’d you leave me hanging? Were you even watching the puck?”
