Chapter 11
BEN
Madness: So you really think they’ll show up?
Ben: They’ll be there
Madness: Great
Madness: But if you had to put a percentage on the likeliness they’ll actually come
Ben: 113%
Ben: Have I ever let you down before?
Ben: Wait. Don’t answer that
Madness: lol
Ben: They will be there. I promise
“Istill don’t understand what Canadian Thanksgiving even is.”
It’s the third time Austin has spoken this sentence in the last thirty minutes and my patience has run dry. Remembering the sage words of wisdom from my grandmother, I opt to remain silent. I have nothing nice to say and should therefore say nothing.
It’s a gorgeous October morning in downtown Ottawa.
The air is cool, but there’s no bite to it, and the way that the sun is shining, it’s going to warm up quickly.
Around us, runners in brightly coloured athletic gear stretch out their legs, shake out their arms, and adjust their numbered bibs.
Some spectators lean against sidewalk barricades, hot drinks in hand as they snap photos of us and other athletes with their phones.
“It celebrates the fall harvest. It’s a time to gather and be grateful for what we have.” Will explains again, patiently.
“But why does it happen in October?” Austin asks. I’m honestly not sure if he doesn’t understand or is just choosing to be obtuse.
“Because that’s when the Fall crops were harvested,” Foster answers. Winter hits Canada pretty early. I remember Trick-or-Treating in my snow boots on more than one occasion.
“It just doesn’t feel like Thanksgiving.” Austin has been in Canada for a little over a year, moving from Arizona when he was traded. He’s originally from California. “I mean, you don’t even have a Macy’s Parade.”
Foster scowls at him. “There aren’t any Macy’s in Canada, Crawford.”
Austin holds up his hands defensively. “Hey, man. Don’t blame me for your country’s lack of Macy’s.”
Why did I invite him?
When Maddy messaged me yesterday morning, I could feel her panic coming through the phone.
There had been a scheduling mix-up, and nearly twenty athletes who were supposed to attend the Santa Turkey Trot wouldn’t be able to make it.
Knowing how important the event was to her, I volunteered to find replacements.
My first targets were my teammates, and after some persuading, I managed to rally a dozen players willing to sacrifice their Saturday morning for a good cause.
Next, I reached out to Julia, our team’s PR manager, who also handles media relations for the Ottawa Minks, our city’s new Professional Women’s Hockey League team.
She put out the call and several of their players eagerly signed on to help, too.
But did I have to ask Austin?
I step between him and Foster. “Look, if we can get through this run without incident, I’ll buy you a book on Canadian Thanksgiving. A really nice one with lots of pictures. Please behave yourself.”
Austin’s smirk is immediate. “You don’t want us to embarrass you in front of your girlfriend?”
Fuck. I glare at Will who I assume is who told him. Given the fact that he’s suddenly very interested in stretching his calves, I’ve assumed correctly.
I draw in a slow, measured breath, forcing my shoulders to relax as I remind myself that I’m trying to be a better leader.
A more composed, level-headed version of myself.
The last time Austin pushed me this far, it ended with my knuckles becoming acquainted with his face. I can’t let that happen again.
Especially not at an event that’s so important to Maddy.
Placing a hand on his shoulder, I walk him out of earshot of the rest of our teammates. He looks concerned at being separated from the others.
“Maddy’s not my girlfriend, but she is important to me. She’s new here and she really wants this event to go well. I want to help her make that happen and it would mean a lot to me if you could help me do just that. Please, Austin. Help me out?”
He blinks at me in surprise. “Yeah. Of course. I’ll help you,” he mumbles. He won’t meet my eye, but he gives me a hesitant pat on the back before walking away.
His reaction puzzles me. I’ve been going out of my way to be more patient with Austin lately, but the nicer I am to him, the weirder he reacts. Sometimes I feel like he’d rather me be surly to him.
As I’m rejoining my teammates, Maddy appears looking like an honest-to-God angel. If angels wore running tights and carried clipboards. Her red hair is pulled up in a high ponytail and it bobs up and down as she walks in my direction with a smile brighter than the sun shining down on us.
How have I managed to go ten years without that smile?
“Good morning,” she says, beaming at us.
“Hey.” I nod at her outfit. She’s paired black athletic tights that hug her shapely legs with a light blue running jacket that makes her eyes sparkle. “You’re looking like a runner. Are you sure you’re not in the race?”
“Positive,” she laughs before adding, sheepishly. “I just wanted to fit in.”
A guy in his early-twenties materializes at her side lugging a large bag behind him. I recognize him from the donor’s lunch last week. He nervously glances around at the hockey players towering over him.
“Hey.” I give him a nod and a reassuring grin. “Ivan, right?
His eyes widen and his ears turn pink as he smiles back shyly. “Yeah.”
“Good to see you again.” My eyes drop to his chest. His t-shirt has a cartoon turkey wearing a Santa hat and a race bib. “I like your shirt.”
“You’re in luck,” Maddy grins as she reaches into the bag Ivan’s dropped on the pavement. When she straightens she has an identical t-shirt in one hand and a santa hat in the other.
“We get hats?!” Will collides with me like an overexcited puppy as he makes a beeline for Maddy, determined to be the first to grab a race shirt. Will loves Christmas more than any adult I’ve ever met. He might love it more than most kids, to be truthful.
Maddy’s eyes grow comically round as she holds up a red-and-white Santa hat to my 6’5” teammate.
“Thanks!” Will grins at her. “You’re Maddy, right? I’m Will Oliver. I’m from Nova Scotia, too! Cape Breton, born and raised. What part are you from? Thanks for inviting me! I love your hair!”
A giggle escapes Maddy, so surprised and delighted, and even though I have no right, I feel a twinge of jealousy that I wasn’t the cause.
“Hi, Will. Yes, I’m Maddy. I’m from Dartmouth, originally, but I’ve lived in Halifax for the last few years. Thank you for coming…and I’m glad you like my hair!”
Foster and Austin wander over and I quickly make introductions.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Foster tells Maddy as he accepts a t-shirt and hat from her. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” He stiffens and throws a panicked look in my direction. “Not from Ben. From Beth. She’s my…I’m her…we’re getting a dog. I’m going to go over there now.”
I pat my best friend on the shoulder as he walks by me. Then I reach behind my neck and pull the shirt I’m wearing over my head before starting to pull the next one on. “That’s Foster,” I tell Maddy once he’s out of earshot. “He’s kind of shy around new people.”
Maddy says nothing. I catch her checking out my shirtless torso before averting her eyes, her cheeks going red.
Don’t read into it, I tell myself.
Fuck that. I’m going to read into it a little. I take my time putting the new shirt on. I know I’m in the best shape of my life and as far as I’m concerned, she can look all she likes.
“I usually run shirtless,” Austin tells Maddy. Is he flexing?
“This is a fundraiser for children, Austin,” I warn. “So you’ll wear the shirt.”
“Okay, fine. But if my nipples chafe, I’m blaming you.”
A throat clears behind him.
“Excuse me, is this where we get the race shirts?” A striking, tall brunette stands just behind Austin, her long hair woven into braided pigtails that fall past her shoulders.
There’s an effortless confidence in the way she carries herself.
Her toned arms and strong posture scream athlete.
She seems familiar, though I can’t place where I’ve seen her before.
She looks past Austin, directing her question to Maddy, either completely unaware or uninterested in the way Austin openly gapes at her, his jaw practically on the pavement.
“It sure is,” Maddy says, smiling at her.
“Great. Can I get eleven for the Minks, please?”
Realization dawns on me. That’s how I know her.
“You’re Bailey Gates.” I recognize the Ottawa Minks goalie from her poster in our shared training facility. Not only is she one of the top goalies in the PWHL, she’s from a family of professional athletes. The entire family are essentially Canadian sports royalty.
“That’s me.” She nods at me in acknowledgement.
“I’m Ben–”
“Ben Michaels. Otters defenseman. Three-time All-Star, top five in scoring for D, one hundred and fifty-six blocked shots last year.”
Bailey lists off hockey stats easier than breathing. Her praise seems to have shaken Austin from his trance. “Impressive,” he says as he looks her over, slowly. “Now do me.”
Bailey gives him a scrutinising look, one eyebrow lifting. “I’m sorry—who are you?”
There’s some chuckles from teammates within earshot. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Austin blush before.
Maddy hides a smile as she hoists the bag of shirts and hats up over her shoulder. “I’ll come to you,” she offers. Her eyes flash to mine briefly before she walks away with Bailey. I watch her go, admiring how her tights hug her round ass as respectfully as I can.
“Do you think she really doesn’t know who I am?” Austin looks utterly lost.
“I think not enough men talk about the dangers of nipple chafing,” Will says, throwing an arm around his shoulders.
“Yeah. Thank you for your bravery.” Foster tags on pulling his Santa hat onto his head.
“Oh shit!” Will grins as he watches him. “Everybody—hang on to your Santa hats for the Halloween party!”
Groans break out from every Otter player.
The team’s Halloween party at a downtown nightclub called Jinx is an annual tradition.
Another tradition is to have a shootout competition during the preseason.
Whoever wins this shootout gets to pick the theme of the Halloween party.
Last year the theme was horror movies, the year before was 80’s themed.
This year, to everyone’s dismay, Will won the shootout and declared, on the spot, that this year’s theme would be Christmas.
Will was booed off the ice that day and the entire team gave him shit about it for weeks. But as usual, no one was able to stay mad at him for long.
The fun run is a blast. The route was planned around some of Ottawa’s most well-known landmarks.
We run by Parliament Hill, the War Memorial, Chateau Laurier, the Shaw Centre, and along the Rideau Canal.
Even though it’s only a 5 kilometre fun run, Maddy has kid-manned water stations set up often.
Near the end, we’re all so hot from running in the sun wearing Santa hats that we start encouraging the kids to throw the water at us.
After we cross the finish line, I pose for promotional pictures with Annika Lei. A bunch of kids have brought their jerseys and we all spend some time signing autographs and chatting with families.
I’m pleasantly surprised to see Sam and his mom in the crowd and excitedly call them over.
I invited them at the last minute and didn’t think they’d make it.
Elliot is dressed in mismatched scrubs. Her blonde hair is piled on top of her head, a pen and what looks like a hi-liter sticking out of the messy bun.
Her bright eyes almost mask the dark circles under her eyes.
Sam wears his signature ensemble— a pair of jeans, an oversized hoodie, and a look of pure indifference.
“I don’t want your autograph,” Sam deadpans when they approach.
“Keep telling yourself that, lil’ buddy.”
It’s a great day with friends old and new.
But my favourite part is watching Maddy orchestrate the entire event.
She’s everywhere all at once, keeping everything running smoothly.
Her smile outshines everyone else's around her. I see not only how hard she works but how much she enjoys her job. I’m so proud of her and I feel so lucky to be able to help in her success in any way I can.
Still, it’s bittersweet.
As I watch her laughing with Will and Austin, something tugs at me—a mix of nostalgia and something I can’t quite name. She fits in so effortlessly, like she’s always belonged here. It’s a strange contrast to the past, to the years when my world of hockey and my life with Maddy barely overlapped.
Back in juniors, my teammates were more interested in chasing girls and closing down bars. I kept those parts of my life separate, maybe out of habit, maybe out of convenience. She never really got to know any of them.
But here she is now, nestled into the circle of guys who have become more family than friends, chatting like she’s known them forever. And she fits. So seamlessly that I can picture her here all the time.
But she’s not mine anymore.