Chapter 5
Emma
Hockey Game Nerves
“Are Nora and Madison meeting us? The kids would love to meet Madison,” I ask Mia as we walk into the hockey arena. Joey was going to leave Katie and Scott with a babysitter for his game tonight, but I insisted that they attend the game with me. What am I doing? Agreeing to help with Scott’s gingerbread house contest and now taking the kids to a hockey game?
Mia gives me a sideways glance. “No, Madison has the sniffles. Nora thought it was best for them to stay home.”
A pang of disappointment hits as I was secretly hoping for this opportunity to get Blake and Nora together. They’d make a perfect pair. I turn to Mia with a question. “Do you think there’s something romantic brewing between Nora and Blake? The way those two look at each other could melt the ice in this rink.”
Mia laughs and shakes her head. “Emma, are you trying to play matchmaker? I don’t think those two need any help, unlike you and Joey.”
I scoff. “Shh! The kids will hear you.” Hopefully my whisper/shout can only be heard by Mia considering all the arena noise surrounding us. Her words sink in further, and I huff, “There’s nothing going on between Joey and me.”
“I see. Then why are you suddenly wearing his jersey?”
Busted. The Svenson jersey beckoned to me while doing some late-night shopping on the Golden Stars fan website. I may have also purchased a long-sleeve T-shirt with his name on it. I’m blaming a lack of sleep for my rash purchases—not my growing attraction to the goalie.
“It was about time for me to buy some Golden Stars gear. I have been going to their games for the last two years.” The cover story sounds plausible, even to my ears.
“And a Svenson jersey was all that was available?” Mia teases.
“They had it in stock and in my size.”
She snorts. “Right.”
Quickly changing the subject, I point to the concession stand on our right. “Kids, do you want some popcorn?”
Katie bounces up and grabs my hand. “Can I have gummy bears? Please, please.” She skips beside me as we change course and head to the ordering line.
“Sure.” Hopefully Joey didn’t tell them they couldn’t have any candy during the game. “Scott, what would you like?”
“One of those boxes of M&M’s please.”
I grimace as I stare at the steep prices listed on the overhead menu. We should have sneaked a full-size bag of M&M’s in my purse. It would have cost half what this little box costs. Gritting my teeth at the expense, I purchase the snacks plus a couple of bottled waters. Mia orders a soda and some nachos. Now we’re all set to enjoy the game.
Our seats are located down near the ice, courtesy of Otto and Joey. I steer the kids into the assigned aisle. Katie sits right next to me, Scott to her right, with Mia on my other side. There’s thunderous applause when the Stars players skate onto the ice. Loud rock music fills the stadium. A bright spotlight tracks each player, one at a time, as the public announcer bellows their name.
When they call Otto’s name, he skates over, pounds his stick on the Plexi-glass and points to Mia, then pats his heart. My friend literally swoons when her hubby displays his affection. The crowd reacts with thunderous clapping and whistling. These two are still obviously in the honeymoon stage. Rather than wait for the end of the season, they flew off to Vegas and tied the knot. They’re planning to have a wedding reception party in Arcadia’s new Inclusive Park when the park is completed.
After all the players are introduced, the spotlight turns on Joey. He’s roughing up the ice in front of his goal. He slides back and forth between the pipes while dragging his skates. It’s a ritual I’ve seen many goalies do, although I’m not certain why.
“It’s Uncle Joey!” Katie squeals and claps as the announcer introduces the starting goalie. He’s popular with the crowd. They shout “Svenson!” over and over, and he raises his stick in acknowledgement.
Mia leans over with a smirk on her face, “There’s your man.”
I ignore Mia’s comment, but my friend’s teasing re-enforces the fact that my moment of weakness in purchasing Joey’s jersey is going to bite me in the butt. I envision it now. When we all meet for pizza after the game, our friends are going to tease me about having Svenson plastered across my back. What is Joey going to think?
Gah! What if I turned the jersey inside out?
This reminds me a little of Bailey’s situation with my cashmere sweater at her first hockey game. She had to shed the sweater because she had a skin reaction to the wool.
Ugh! Maybe I’ll buy a plain T-shirt between periods and ditch the jersey.
However, the steep prices at the concession stand don’t bode well for finding anything inexpensive. My budget can’t take another hit, so I’ll stick with the jersey and hope no one—namely the starting goalie—notices that I’m sporting his name across my back.
The lights dim in the seating area, signaling the start of the game. Immediately my palms sweat, and I feel a bit nauseous. This is the first time I’ve attended a Golden Stars game while having feelings for one of the players. What if he gets hurt? What if he plays badly? I know a lot is riding on this game for Joey because he mentioned that some NHL scouts are in attendance tonight. Wonder if he’s experiencing these pre-game nerves like I’m feeling?
Fortunately, the game starts, and I focus on the face-off happening at center ice between Otto and an opposing player. When the puck drops, we all get sucked into the excitement of the game.
~*~
The second period ends, and the game is tied 1-1. Joey’s been amazing in goal tonight. He’s blocked everything except for a crazy shot that found the upper part of the net behind his right shoulder. I wince and my thighs ache every time he does the splits to block a shot. How does he do that?
Katie had to go potty and so did Mia, so they left to make a restroom run a couple minutes ago. I turn to Scott who’s sitting quietly watching the scantily clad Stars Girls skate around and shovel up the ice debris left by the Zamboni. It’s chilly out there on the ice. Those ladies need to wear more clothes.
“Scott, are you enjoying the game?” I intentionally engage him, so he quits staring at the almost naked girls.
He turns towards me and grins. “Uncle Joey is playing awesome!”
“That he is.” I’m happy for Joey because he must be impressing the heck out of the NHL scouts. “Do you play hockey?” I assume eight-year-olds have some kind of organized hockey if they want to participate.
His smile fades. “No,” he mumbles.
“Are you not interested in hockey, or do you prefer another sport?” I’m surprised because he seems like a coordinated kid, but maybe he prefers playing soccer.
Jiggling his leg, he looks like he’s contemplating how to answer the question. Maybe I’ve overstepped by asking?
“I’m not a very good skater,” he admits, then bites his lower lip.
Katie bops around me and flops back into her seat, returning from the restroom break. “He always falls on his butt,” she says with a giggle.
“I’m sure Joey could help you work on your skating,” I suggest gently. Scott flushes and I feel horrible that I brought this topic up in the first place.
“I don’t want him to be ashamed of me,” Scott admits with a trembling lip.
I quickly trade seats with Katie, giving her the popcorn box to share with Mia, lest she make another embarrassing comment.
“Scott, your uncle would never be ashamed of you. I bet he would be excited to teach you to skate.” As I understand it, Joey has been the only male influence in these kids’ lives since their biological father split right after Katie was born.
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
A small smile tips his lips. “I’ll ask him tomorrow at breakfast.”
I squeeze the boy’s arm. “Perfect. He’s going to be so excited and honored you asked for his help.” I say this with complete confidence. Joey loves these kids and would do anything for them.
Scott looks up at me. “Why are you wearing Uncle Joey’s jersey?” His sudden change of subject gives me whiplash. “Are you his girlfriend?”
Oops! My late-night bad decision has come back to haunt me again.
“The jersey was on sale, and they had it in my size. I didn’t even notice it said Svenson until I had already checked out. That website is tricky.” My words trip over themselves as I rush to explain.
“I can help you next time. My mom always has me help her when she shops online.”
Womp! Womp! My flimsy, made-up excuse makes me sound like an online shopping idiot. “That’s nice of you to offer.”
“You older people need help with stuff like that,” he adds matter-of-factly.
Ouch! How embarrassing!
I feel like an old codger after that remark. Silence falls between us, and I’m relieved when, a few seconds later, the buzzer sounds to start the third period. Hopefully, Scott won’t mention my inept online shopping skills to his uncle or point out that I’m wearing a Svenson jersey.