Chapter 34
PEYTON
At the same time, it felt right, and whenever possible, we were inseparable.
If I wasn’t on the ice and he wasn’t at therapy, we were together.
At his place. At mine. Chilling on a couch.
Eating in front of a movie. Tearing up the sheets in bed.
Taking far longer showers than we probably should have.
When I had to go out on the road, we were texting constantly, and as soon as I was in my room, we’d FaceTime.
Sometimes those calls were just chats, catching up and enjoying each other’s company even when we couldn’t be together.
Other times… well, it was a good thing I didn’t have a roommate, let’s put it that way.
I was utterly in heaven, and not just because I was having more sex than I’d had in ages—I loved this connection with him.
I loved seeing him happy. I loved making him happy.
He was still struggling and would be for a long time—I’d have been worried if he wasn’t—but he smiled more.
Though I hadn’t known him before Leif’s death, I was pretty sure he was more like himself than he’d been months ago—quick to laugh, smart as hell, seriously sweet.
I couldn’t wait for the off season to start because then we could step back from hockey and focus on us for a few months.
Still condition, still skate, but without the pressure of the regular or postseason, not to mention the pressure on Avery to come back from the player assistance program. Just a long summer of being together.
That was still a little ways off, though.
We were in the homestretch toward the playoffs, and more and more, it looked like we had a shot of making it.
Avery was due to start his conditioning loan with the farm team soon, and he’d be back at most two weeks after that.
Then we’d have fewer than a dozen games left to make a drive at the postseason.
Tonight was a home game against a division rival. It was critical to win this one, ideally in regulation. We needed the points, and we also needed to prevent Jersey from getting any; we were neck-in-neck in the standings, and a regulation win tonight would give as an edge we desperately needed.
It was going to be a challenge, and not just because of the pressure.
“Any updates on Rachel?” Baddy asked after warmups.
I checked my phone. “Nothing yet. Avery said they’re settled in at the hospital, but it could be a while.”
“Don’t count on it,” Eminem said. “She went into labor with the last one right before a game, and Early almost didn’t make it to the hospital in time.”
“If she’s anything like my wife,” Willie chimed in, “this one will be even faster.”
Some of the dads in the room nodded. Some of the others looked dubious.
“I don’t know,” Laramie said. “My son took like six hours, start to finish. My daughter?” He grimaced. “Almost thirty.”
“Holy shit.” Eminem shook his head. “My wife would’ve personally given me a vasectomy with her bare hands by hour twenty-four.”
Laramie nodded solemnly. “Erin threatened to a few times, believe me.”
“As well she should have,” Falon chimed in. “You better believe my husband buys me something very nice on each of our kids’ birthdays.” She poked a finger at him. “I hope you do the same.”
“Uh. Notice how I’m still alive?” Laramie gestured at himself. “I’m singlehandedly keeping an entire jewelry chain in business.”
“Good.” Falon nodded sharply. “Keep up the good work.”
She and Laramie both laughed, and I chuckled to myself as I kept putting on my gear. I’d played with a couple of other guys who also showered their wives with lavish gifts every time their kids’ birthdays came around.
“That woman went through hell with each of our five kids,” Grayson had said after showing us the Rolex he’d just bought her. “This is the absolute least I can do.”
There’d been exactly one guy who’d tried to blow off what his wife had been through in delivering their baby, and every dad in the room had eyed him like he’d lost his mind.
He’d insisted that “it wasn’t that bad” and “she was made for that,” and we’d all just shaken our heads and changed the subject.
I couldn’t begin to imagine why they were divorced now.
Tonight, we all dawdled in the locker room for as long as we could, hoping for an update from Avery, but none came.
The show had to go on, so after making Coach, Falon, and Evan promise to let us know the instant they heard anything, we trooped out to the ice for the anthems and the start of the game.
By the time the puck dropped, I was almost entirely focused on hockey. A few synapses still wound themselves around the need for an update, but for the most part, I zeroed in on the game. My teammates did as well.
Jersey put up a hell of a fight, too, which forced us to concentrate even more than we already were. Their forecheck was well-known throughout the League, and they were dangerous as hell once they had possession.
So… we just didn’t let them get possession.
Our forwards and defensemen alike battled hard to keep the puck away from them when we were in their zone.
Jersey managed a couple of breakaways, but they didn’t get far.
Trews made a highlight-reel steal in the neutral zone, poke-checking the puck right off their star center’s stick, claiming possession, and firing it to Davis, who was just outside the crease. Davis tapped it in, and we were up 1-0.
Another intense battle later, I shot one over the netminder’s shoulder. The celly after that one felt amazing—we were on fire, and I was on the board after two games without a point. Fuck yeah.
We were still up 2-0 when the horn sounded the end of the period, and we all clomped back into the locker room to recharge and rehydrate.
“Anyone heard from Calds or Rachel?” Laramie asked.
“Not yet.” Falon peered at her phone. “Still waiting.”
Coach and Evan also shook their heads.
After I’d stripped off my jersey, I took out my phone to text Avery and check in, both to see how Rachel and the baby were doing and to see how he was holding up.
But there was already a message on my screen. I read it, then held up my phone. “Oh, hey! It’s a boy!”
The team broke into cheers.
“Told you it would be fast!” Eminem said with a laugh.
Baddy craned his neck toward my phone. “Are she and the kid doing good?” That quieted everyone down.
I read Avery’s message aloud to the team: “‘Tell the team it’s a boy, born at 7:19, 7lbs 6oz. Mom and baby are fine.’”
More cheers, and suddenly everyone had their phones in hand, tapping furiously on the screens. I sent a text of my own.
She’s about to get bombarded with texts lol. Tell her I said congrats. How are you doing?
Avery
Yep, her phone just started blowing up lmao. I’m good. Holy shit newborns are TINY!
lol bet Rachel doesn’t think so.
I’m not asking her. (lips zipped emoji)
(laughing emoji) Good call.
yeah yeah. Get back to work.
(saluting emoji)
Chuckling, I tucked my phone away and went looking for a bottle of Gatorade.
Apparently I’d been more distracted than I’d realized, because when I hit the ice for the next period, I was completely focused.
More than I had been earlier. The news gave everyone a jolt of energy, too, as if we weren’t just playing hockey, we were playing to celebrate the addition to the Whiskey Rebels family.
For a solid five minutes, no one from Jersey could even make it past the neutral zone into our defensive zone, and we hammered their goalie with shots—one of which went in.
They were getting frustrated, too, which made them chippy; that wasn’t good (for them) when we were this dialed in, because they were too easy to distract with checks and chirps, not to mention every time we stole the puck from them.
They did manage to squeak one into the net past Ziggy, but Davis answered with a second goal less than a minute later.
Now he was on hatty watch, and at the end of the second, we had a 3-1 lead.
Everyone knew that was the most dangerous lead, though; at 3-1, the winning team often let their foot off the gas at the same time the losing team got desperate.
It wasn’t unusual at all for a team to be winning 3-1 only to ultimately lose 3-4.
Not happening tonight. No fucking way.
During a commercial break in the third period, the announcer said, “The Pittsburgh Whiskey Rebels would like to extend our congratulations to Rachel Erlandsson, widow of our beloved captain, Leif Erlandsson. Their son Adrian arrived tonight at 7:19 pm. Mom and baby are both doing fine.”
As the crowd went wild, an image appeared on the screen of Rachel holding the swaddled newborn with her older kids on either side of her.
The announcer’s voice barely carried over the cheers: “Welcome to Pittsburgh, Adrian Avery Erlandsson.”
Wow. They’d given the kid Avery’s name as a middle name? Though… I wasn’t surprised now that I thought about it. It was a sweet gesture, and Leif probably would’ve loved it. Hell, maybe it had been his idea.
What I did know was that the announcement gave the crowd a surge of energy, and that in turn gave us a surge.
I smacked Davis’s shoulder. “Think you’ve got a hat trick in you tonight?”
He scoffed and smacked me right back. “Fuck yeah, I do. Let’s go!”
I turned to Eminem, who was my right winger while Avery was out. “Let’s get Davis a hatty, yeah?”
He flashed me a big grin and bumped my fist. “The fans will bring down the house if we do!”
“Perfect! Let’s do it!”
A minute later, the third line was peeling away for a line change, and Coach sent us out. Jersey still had their fourth line on the ice, and they were both gassed and hemmed into their own end.