3. Chapter 3
Walking into the ice rink makes me nostalgic. The smell of the cold coming off the ice is the same every time. The atmosphere for this game is very different than what I’m used to, though. There’s an hour left before game time, and the stands are already almost full, but the mood is quiet and solemn. Everyone here is in mourning for someone they see as a hero.
Tiffany, Coach Ward’s wife, called me a few days ago to ask if I would be willing to take pictures of the ceremony for her. She’d heard through the grapevine of small-town gossip that I was a photographer in my spare time. My well-meaning best friend showed her pictures I’d taken of her wedding and Coras newborn pictures. The fee we’d negotiated was substantial enough that I couldn’t turn it down, even if I’d be uncomfortable being here.
I unpack my camera and try to find where my best vantage point will be. The equipment was a gift from my mom, bought with a portion of my dad’s life insurance. She wanted me to be able to pursue my photography, but it wasn’t possible to keep up with the bills and build a new business. As I’m setting up, a tall brunette approaches me. She has perfect hair and make-up and a modest black dress and heels. I feel like a bum in my dark jeans, a nice blouse, and hair pulled up in a ponytail. I remind myself Im here to work. As a photographer, I need to blend into the background, not stand out among the crowd.
You must be Blake. Im Tiffany Ward. Thank you so much for doing this for us, her voice is surprisingly warm and husky, not the high-pitched shrill I had been expecting.
Its no problem. Mr. Ward was a legend to this town, and its an honor you would ask me. I am so sorry for your loss.
Thank you. If it would be better, you can go out on the ice. A few media outlets will be covering the event, and youre welcome to the section weve made for them. The ceremony will begin in about twenty minutes.
I follow her to where a few other photographers and a local news stations cameraman stand. I introduce myself to them and then set my equipment up, getting a feel for where everything will take place. My chest constricts as I remember watching my childhood love build his career in this building. Lucky for me, he wont be here tonight. His professional team is playing, so he won’t be flying in until early tomorrow morning for the funeral.
The ceremony begins with Assistant Coach Carlson, now the interim head coach, and continues until the end of the school year, thanking everyone for coming. Hes acting as emcee tonight. He gives a short speech about working with Coach Ward and his greatness, bringing the crowd to tears for the first time.
Then, the Ward family is introduced, and I struggle to keep myself together and professional. I stare through the viewfinder of my camera and steady my shaking hands. I snap picture after picture of Tiffany and her daughter Lily, now ten, coming down the carpet. Lily is her mothers little twin with flowing dark locks and a regal demeanor.
Behind them struts Talon, with a stunning woman on his arm. Her hair is a mix of blue and purple waves, her bright blue eyes are lined dramatically, and her lips are painted red. Shes introduced as his wife, Mia. I cringe, even though I knew he’d married a couple of years ago.
Locking eyes with Talon through the lens of my camera steals my breath. His green eyes still hold the spark of mischief and wicked promises. His black hair is longer now but not unkempt. His tattoos can be seen on his hands and creeping up his throat, past the collar of his shirt. Even with the pressed slacks, black button-up, and wife on his arm, he still gives off all the rebellious rockstar vibes.
I compose myself and take pictures during Tiffanys speech. As Lily says a few words about her dad, the crowd sobs again. Talon doesnt speak a word. He only raises his hand to everyone. They all go wild. Springbrook is proud of one of their brightest stars, even though they were less than supportive as he was growing up.
Next is the introduction of the fifteen alum players that have come tonight. All went on to have successful college careers, and some even excelled at the professional level. Foster Holland is presented about halfway through the pack. Though his injury in college ended his NHL dreams, he became a nutritionist and exercise guru. His brand focuses on keeping athletes, especially hockey players, fit and healthy. Hes followed Cole in his career, personally working for him and sometimes the teams he plays for. Im thrilled that he turned that challenge into a success for himself.
The ceremony lasts about thirty minutes after raising a banner to the rafters in the coachs honor and announcing the ice rink will be renamed for him. The tears flow, and I am pleased with the shots I got. I hurry off the ice to avoid my past mistakes before they catch up to me.
Im standing against the glass, taking shots of the players warming up with their memorial patches sewn onto their jerseys, when Emma comes up behind me with Cora on her hip.
Hey, I didnt know you guys were coming tonight, I tell her.
Matts cousin plays on the team and got us tickets. How are you doing? she asks.
Her concern for me has my eyes tearing up, so I wrap her and Cora in a hug.
Cora keeps her grip on my shirt when I pull away, her sign that she wants me to hold her. Emma hands her over to me.
Hi Tee, she says in the cutest squeaky mouse voice. Emma has referred to me as Auntie Blake since Cora was born, but when she started talking, she shortened it to Tee. Or occasionally, its Tee Bake.
Hey, baby girl, are you ready to watch hockey? I ask her.
Yeah, I like it. I watch it on TV with Daddy, she explains to me. I like it when they get goals.
We should get to our seats before the game starts, Emma tells me, trying to take back her daughter. I pull away and give her my pleading eyes. I need a few more minutes with my niece to get through the rest of this night. Emma relents. I know its not healthy for me to cling to a toddler as emotional support, but I never claimed not to be screwed up.
Bring her back to me when youre ready, she tells me, gesturing to where they are sitting.
Emma walks away, and I hold Cora close as she chatters about some cartoon shes really into. Her enthusiasm for a fictional world and its characters eases some tension Ive felt since walking in here. Im ready to return her to her mom when a familiar voice calls my name from behind.
I was hoping to see you again, Foster approaches me and says. His tone is friendly but unsure, like hes nervous about talking to me. I center myself before turning around and putting on the professional smile Ive perfected.
I heard you would be here this weekend, I say with false cheerfulness as my body stiffens.
Whos that? Cora asks, drawing Fosters attention. He looks at the child Im holding and looks at me with a raised brow.
This is Emmas daughter, Cora, I introduce him. This is Foster. He was a friend from when your mom and I went to school. The little girl blinks her brown eyes at me and nods, not saying a word for the first time since she learned to talk.
I look back up at Foster. The tall, lanky body he had in high school has been replaced by muscled strength. Hes posted many shirtless pictures on his social media that Ive sadly kept up with over the years. His light blond hair has darkened to almost brown. Its shorter than it used to be and styled back from his face. His brown eyes study my face, no doubt cataloging the differences time has made to me, too.
Its been a long time. Its good to see you, I say, trying to get Foster to move along. I dont need an awkward and maybe emotional encounter with him at an ice rink in front of a toddler and a crowd of people.
Its good to see you too. Im going to spend some time in town over the summer, and Id love to get together sometime. He looks over at Coras little face, choosing his words carefully. It would be nice to catch up.
Okay, I tell him, knowing I will do everything possible to avoid that. I gesture to Cora on my hip. I need to take her back to her mom before the game starts.
He nods, and I step around him. He reaches out and grabs my arm before I make it away. Im sorry for how things ended between us.
I look up into his sad eyes, and Im sure hes sincere. But an apology years later isnt worth much to me.
Thanks, I mumble with my head down, hurrying to Emma and Matt in the stands.
Emma takes Cora from me and hands her off to Matt. Are you okay? she asks. I saw you talking to Foster.
Im fine.
Liar. I can see the tears in your eyes. Did he say something?
He said sorry.
Emma snorts, Too little, too late for that shit. Is he looking to get back together or something?
I doubt it. He wants to catch up over the summer. Im sure it was just some polite bullshit.
Which would make sense if he wasnt the one to approach you.
He didnt even get my number. I will go back and get some shots of the game.
I leave Emma and her family behind and set up my camera. When I look up and across the arena, my eyes connect with a pair of emerald green ones. Talon is watching my every move.