34. Libby
The sun shining on my face is the first clue that I must’ve passed out cold last night.
My last memory was Zane being in the room. I told him to give me the play by play of Liam’s first official hockey game. And he did. I guess I just needed to hear my brother’s voice to be able to finally sleep.
I bolt up and see Michael on the reading chair in the corner of our bedroom. The lamp is on and a book is facedown on the floor.
I slide out noting that I’m wearing pajamas and not the dress I came home in. When I walk up to him, I shut the lamp off and slip a blanket over him.
Then, bending down to pick up the book I see the words on the cover.
So you’re going to be a dad? A man’s guide to caring for his family.
I look at the name of the author…Dan Ferguson.
His dad.
If Michael is anything like his dad, then I know he’s going to be great.
I flip through the pages. The book fell open to a page about easing the load on his wife while she’s carrying the child and beyond.
Never stop believing the best for her. That line is highlighted.
I look up from the book and see Michael smiling.
“Jesus!” I jump back.
He chuckles reaching for me. “Come here.”
He pats his lap and I set the book down on the table and curl into him.
“How are you feeling?” His voice is raspy.
“Pretty shitty,” I admit.
He cracks his neck, “Same here.”
His lips graze my shoulder.
“Are we going to talk about what happened yesterday?”
He shakes his head. “Not unless you want to.”
“I would’ve told you everything… if I could have,” I tell him softly.
“I know that, baby. But that’s not on you. That should’ve never happened to you.”
I nod. “I know.”
He pushes my hair off my shoulders and caresses my arm. “What now?”
“Well, you have a game tonight,” I say, grinning.
“I do.”
“Stanley cup finals,” I say.
“Your point?”
“Which of your jerseys do you want me to wear?”
He turns my face to him. “Are you for real?”
I laugh. “I’m so for real.”
He kisses me and jumps up from the chair tossing me over his shoulder and heading for our closet. “You just made my day, butterfly.”
I giggle as my hair bounces behind him.
Male Commentator:I never thought I’d see this day, Paige.
Female Commentator:That’s right, Hank. The Houston Heatwave have done it. They’ve made it to the first game of the Stanley Cup finals.
Male Commentator:Tonight’s game is a heavy one, Paige.
Female Commentator: And why’s that?
Male Commentator: Well, according to some sources the Heatwave are playing the very team that offered first line right-winger, Michael Ferguson, a ten million dollar deal and a three year contract.
Female Commentator:Oof. That’s correct, Frank. And the forward turned it down.
Male Commentator:He must not be done with his time in Houston.
Female Commentator:And why would he? A little birdie has told us that Ferguson is going to be a new dad.
Male Commentator: Congratulations! And there’s our cameraman panning over to Libby O’Connor wearing number twenty-three’s jersey for the first time.
Female Commentator: Let’s hope that gives him some much needed wind beneath his wings for tonight’s game.
Male Commentator: And there goes the puck drop and Houston vs. Colorado has now entered Game one of the Stanley cup finals. Best of luck to our Heatwave boys out there.
“Shoot the puck!” Liam is screaming from the top of his lungs, his dad’s oversized number eighty-two jersey draped over his tiny frame. But he wears it proudly.
I join him in shouting to our boys. “Come on, shoot the puck!”
Michael has two goals already and the boys are setting him up for what would be his first ever natural hat trick.
Landry shoots to Hicks. Hicks shoots to Michael. And boom! He made it into the goal.
The arena lights up with orange strobe lights in every direction and the fans jump up from their seats to throw their hats onto the ice.
Within seconds, there are what look like hundreds of hats of all shapes and colors. My favorite one it a giant cowboy hat that belongs to the Heatwave mascot, Smoky, the Blue Lacy.
The dog mascot dances across the ice and kicks hats around as the ice girls glide through collecting the hats as quickly as they can.
Liam and I bounce up and down holding each other and screaming and the rest of our row and Heatwave WAGs are going nuts too.
My brother’s love for hockey got me to the ice.
But I realize it’s my own love for the team, for the fans, for the man whose baby I now carry… that will keep me here.