Page 15 of Soulmates and Slapshots
I roll my eyes even though he can’t see me. “Keep telling yourself that.”
We talk for a few more minutes, and once we’re off the phone, I continue to think about our conversation. Mac always has a way of looking on the bright side of things. This is something I need to do more of.
I guess there’s no limit to how far my humiliation can stretch these days. First, I’m starring in dance videos on the team’s social media page thanks to Clara’s never-ending stream of ideas. And as if that wasn’t bad enough, I’m now parading around the Maple Falls Farmers Market wearing a white T-shirt that proudly readsIce Breakers Hockey: Saving Maple Falls One Splash at a Time.
Plus a new nickname,Mama’s Boy.
Yep. That’s me. A grown man with that plastered on his shirt for all of Maple Falls to see. Although I do love my mom, and it could be so much worse. Mama’s Boy isn’t as bad as some of the other guys nicknames like Snuggle Muffin and Princess Sparkles. I totally lucked out.
Clara, our team’s social media wizard, swears these antics are boosting our online reach and helping the town rally behind the new team. I’ve always been a team player, and a team player does whatever is needed.
Still, it’s late September, and the damp chill of the Pacific Northwest is creeping into my bones. My spiral of self-pity is interrupted by an unmistakable squeal coming from somewhere.
“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to thefirst ever Maple Falls Drench for Defense fundraiser with your very own hometown hockey team—the Ice Breakers!” a bright, enthusiastic voice calls over the loudspeaker. The announcer is the mayor’s daughter, Ashlyn.
The crowd bursts into applause following her announcement as my teammates and I wave from where we are standing in a row like pageant contestants.
“It looks like the boys came prepared today,” she teases. “Look at them all dressed in crisp white T-shirts.”
Whistles and cheers ripple through the crowd.
I grit my teeth. Yep. This is happening. A wet T-shirt contest in September. I’m not sure what to expect next.
One by one my teammates step forward, and I watch as volunteers drench them with buckets of freezing water. The cheering intensifies as the soaked shirts cling to their bodies, and it becomes obvious the town’s female population isveryinvested in this fundraiser.
As I inch closer to my turn, the nerves set in. This isn't exactly my comfort zone. I know it’s all for a good cause, but when people start chanting “Mama’s Boy” from the sidelines, I consider making a break for it. I keep reminding myself that I’m doing this for the team and the town.
And then I spot Fiona standing by the volunteer station, holding a bucket of water. She’s grinning sheepishly, giving me a shiver from more than the cold. I blink. Is she doing what I think she’s doing?
I step into position as directed, and then Fiona steps forward.
“Ready?” she asks. I can barely hear her through the noise of the crowd.
I nod slowly realizing that the bucket she’s holding is meant for me.
And then suddenly the ice-cold water hits my chest,making me gasp. Every muscle in my body tightens as the crowd roars with delight. An older woman is standing next to her, clapping like this is the main event of the year.
Fiona waves to the crowd, but I can’t take my eyes off her. I’ve got so many questions running through my mind.Why was she the one to do it?Andhow much did she pay to throw a bucket of water on me?I know she mentioned she believes in good causes, but this is unexpected.
Jamie, our team captain, is the last to be drenched. The mayor’s daughter steps up with the final bucket and soaks him. This causes the crowd to get even louder.
And just when I think we’ve hit the peak of embarrassment, “It’s Raining Men” begins playing.
The team forms a line, and we start parading around like we’re part of an off-Broadway male revue.I can’t believe I’m doing this.I’m pretty sure my former teammates would pay good money to get their hands on this footage—and theywillsee it. The hockey world is small, so it’s only a matter of time before my phone starts ringing.
But judging by the laughter, the raised phones, and the delighted faces in the crowd, we’ve done what we came to do. The Ice Breakers have officially made a splash in our new home.
As I towel off, someone taps my shoulder. I turn to find Fiona standing there, hands clasped in front of her, an apologetic expression on her face.
“Please don’t be mad,” she says. “I did it for Maple Falls.”
I try to give her a stern look, but no such luck.
“Let me guess—your aunt talked you into it?”
Fiona lets out a breathy laugh. “She woke me up at seven this morning and said we were going to a fundraiser for thetown. Next thing I know—we’re here and buckets of water are flying.”
“Uh-huh. And how much did you spend for this experience?”
