Page 73 of In The Game

He glances down at me. “I’m digging that jersey.”

I chuckle and look down. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah… the name Conway suits you.”

My heart feels like it’s in my throat. With burning cheeks, I try to come up with a witty retort, but I’m too distracted. The nervous laugh that comes out instead couldn’t make me more obvious that his remarks affect me the way they do.

We saunter down the echoing hallway, taking twists and turns through the maze of passageways until we reach a stairwell. He holds the door open for me, Arthur heavy and limp in his arms. Barrett makes carrying him look so effortless.

“I’m parked over there.” I point to the side of the concrete parking ramp, and Barrett nods.

When we reach the car, I get him buckled into his seat and his head lolls to the side, and sure enough, there's ketchup on the collar of his new jersey.

“Thanks for helping me get him to the car. As you can see, his first hockey game was a big success.” Technically his first game was the night of the banquet, but he didn’t really watch it, so this feels like his first official game.

“Anytime, Ral. Thanks for coming tonight, seeing you in the stands was…” A smile spreads across his face and his eyes sparkle. “It was awesome.”

“You played a great game, we loved watching you get the last goal. Congratulations on being tied up three in three this round. Are you nervous?”

“Nah.” He’s playing it cool. “You might be my good luck charm. I don’t suppose you’d let me fly you and Arthur out to the final game?”

I shake my head. “Definitely not.”

“Might be fun…” He bites his lip, and those blue eyes bore into mine. It gives me butterflies.

“Sorry, best I can do is put it on the TV at home.”

“Watching it on TV isn’t nearly as good as the real thing though. Box seats are pretty cushy.”

I roll my eyes. “Good night, Barrett.” Grabbing the driver’s side door handle to climb inside, he holds it shut.

“Hey.”

It catches me off guard and I startle, but before I can say anything, his hand is on my hip, pressing me against the car.

“Barrett, what if he—”

“Sees his dad kissing his mom?”

My chest pounds and I can’t breathe.

“Please, don’t.”

He stares at my lips, and I think he’s about to lock his mouth on mine, when he leans over and places a peck on my cheek instead. He tucks a few loose strands of hair behind my ear. Does he hear my heartbeat? It’s deafening in my ears.

“I’m still calling you every day. I want to see you when I get back from Seattle.”

I keep my eyes fixated toward the ground and give a tight nod. “Okay.”

“Okay… Give Mini Bear a fist bump for me.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

The plane ride to Seattle is energized, but we all feel the underlying pressure of this being the last game in the third round. We need this win to go to number four. If we don’t win, we’re done for the season. Jonesy cracks his jokes as usual, trying to keep things light. I slide my headphones over my ears and recline in my seat with my eyes closed, visualizing our plays. Over the last couple days, Sully and I have been spending every second going over game tapes and finding our weak spots as well as Seattle’s.

No matter how much I focus on the game and how much footage I watch, Raleigh and Arthur are never far from my thoughts. I want to win the playoffs and get our chance at the Stanley Cup, but if I could use the offseason to build something with them, that would be incredible. I want them all to myself this summer. For now, though, I need to make hockey a priority too. Before I go into full hockey mode, I shoot off a text.

Me: Thinking about you.

---