Page 69 of From Ice to Home
Next, the Leafs are introduced and the crowd boos loudly. A wave of discomfort crashes over me, and I find myself shifting in my seat.
Megan glances at me, barely containing a laugh. “It’s fierce competition out there, don’t think the Rangers would get a warmer welcome if we were over in Toronto.”
“She’s right you know,” Avah says, with a shrug. “It’s all part of the game. The fans live for that stuff.”
“Maybe, but my mom taught me it’s bad form. Everyone works hard, trains hard, and earns their place out there.” Call it a pet peeve, but I don’t like it at all. I think it’s rude.
“Oh honey.” Megan looks at me with mock sympathy on her face. “The fans are going to eat you alive.”
I try my best to ignore her comment, but there’s no hiding the fact that she’s gotten under my skin with her words. The fans have already said horrible things about me and I’m certain it’s only the beginning. Scanning the sea of navy blue and red out there, more than a few are wearing Lucas’s number. There are even a few signs out there proposing marriage to a few players on the ice…and a few that are beyond inappropriate.
“Don’t let her get to you. Really, she won’t last long,” Avah says casually, although there’s an odd sincerity to her tone of voice. Although Avah tried to keep her voice down, Megan heard the comment.
“Ugh,” Megan snaps, clearly offended. “What’s your problem? That’s a terrible thing to say.”
“Maybe.” Avah shrugs, turning toward Megan, owning it once again. “I just call it like I see it.”
“You don’t know me,” Megan fires back, crossing her arms. “You don’t know us.”
Avah exhales slowly, clearly trying to keep herself in check. “Maybe not. But I’ve been around hockey players long enough to recognize patterns. And Declan isn’t exactly subtle.”
“Wow. Jealousy doesn’t look too good on you,” Megan says, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Just because you’re not wearing anyone’s number…”
Her words hang between them. Avah doesn’t flinch, but I catch the way her jaw tightens for a second.
“Okay, I think that’s enough,” I say, watching as Lucas wins the opening face-off. “We’re here to watch the game.”
The puck clacks hard against the boards beneath us, and a wave of players slam into the glass in a blur of speed and aggression. The sudden rush on the ice fractures the tension in our row, at least for now.
The crowd erupts, chanting ‘Let’s Go Rangers’, as the players battle for the puck. Cheers echoes through the arena, so loudly, it feels like the entire building is shaking.
The Rangers keep control of the puck with crisp, clean passes. Lucas dishes it to EJ, who directs it back to Declan at the blue line. Lucas cuts across the crease, getting into position at the post. Declan doesn’t miss the opportunity and fires. Lucas tips it in clean behind the Leafs’ goalie.
The horn blares. The song kicks in and the crowd yells, “Hey! Hey! Hey!”
Forty seconds into the game and they’re already on the board.
Beside me, Avah exhales and relaxes slightly. Megan, however, is now glued to her phone, only half-watching.
My heart is racing. Lucas is now back at center ice for the face-off, leaning low over his stick as he squares up againstToronto’s first-line center. It’s clear they’re exchanging words, but what they’re actually saying is anybody’s guess. Lucas’s stance tenses…he’s locked in.
“If we win this, the Rangers will be going to the finals,” Megan says without taking her eyes off her phone. “New York is going to go insane. Just imagine the parties and the media coverage—it’s going to blow up.”
She looks up, a satisfied smile on her lips as she looks at the players on the ice. Her words hang in the air, like a promise of things to come. But something in her tone makes me think it’s not just about hockey for her.
The sudden urge to pray for Megan stirs in me but I ignore it. It’s not my place, I don’t know her or anything about her life. I’m not entirely certain she’d want my prayers or my help with anything.
For the next twenty minutes, I’m on the edge of my seat. Declan has checked a few players into the boards, some of them harder than necessary. If he continues like this, he’s bound to end up in the penalty box.
Lucas, EJ and the rookie, are the perfect line. There’s nothing that can break through their offense—they are in perfect sync. Lucas threads a pass to Lindgren, who weaves between two defenders, cutting behind the net before sending the puck back to Lucas. He picks it up with precision, barely hesitating before ripping a shot into the top corner. The goalie tries to block it, but the puck hurls over his pads, underneath his arm, hitting the net with speed.
The red light flashes and the goal horn blares through the arena. The Rangers’ goal song kick in and thousands of voices belt out the familiar ‘Hey! Hey! Hey!’ in unison. We’re up 2-0, and my nerves are starting to settle. In hockey having a two-goal lead doesn’t mean that much. It can all change in a matter of seconds.
Glancing toward Megan, she’s still on her phone. Thethought comes back—this time a little bit stronger as it presses on my heart.
Pray for her.
The weight of it is undeniable, like God Himself is insisting that I do this, like he doesn’t want me to dismiss it again.
