13. Dan
CHAPTER 13
DAN
It’s the night of the Ice Breakers’ first game, and the atmosphere in the arena is electric. Having visited with my parents, Mimi, and Emmy yesterday, I know that the whole town is turning out tonight—and practically all of them are wearing my jersey.
But there’s only one person I want to see wearing my jersey.
Keira.
Since we confessed our feelings for one another that night at Emmy’s bookshop, we’ve spent as much time together as our schedules will allow—which isn’t nearly as much as I would like. I’ve got practices, PT sessions, and all the publicity stuff we’ve got to do for the team and games, as well as gym workouts and spending time with my family. For her part, Keira has her job, running around after her niece and nephew, and caring for her sister.
So, yeah. Not a lot of time.
But what time we have spent together has been incredible. Being with Keira is just as I had always imagined it. We get each other. We click. And it’s so much more than simply because we grew up together and dated in high school. We’re soulmates, pure and simple. And it feels amazing to finally be with her after all this time.
“How’s the wrist?” Scotty asks.
I hold up my gloved left hand. “Like new.”
“You sure? The last thing we want is you getting hurt out there. This is only the first game. We need you leading the team for the whole series.”
“I got the all-clear from the PT to play, Coach, and I’m doing good.”
He slaps me on the back. “Good luck out there.”
“Thanks.”
My teammates and I wait in the tunnel, ready to head out onto the ice when our names are announced. The excitement is palpable. Sure, each player here plays professionally for other teams, some in the NHL, some in the lower leagues, and this series is an unpaid gig which we’re doing for kids in need. We might be the team Troy Hart brought together, but tonight, we’re the Ice Breakers, a real team. And we’re ready to take on our opponent for the first time, the Canadian Lumberjacks.
The familiar and rousing beat of our team song begins to play, and the crowd erupts into excited cheers and applause.
Dawson flashes me a grin. “Remind you of our college days?” he shouts over the noise.
“I don’t remember ‘Ice Ice Baby’ playing back then,” I joke as Vanilla Ice tells us to kick it. “And nor do I remember a dancing otter as our mascot. ”
He laughs. “Yeah, what’s with that? But you know I meant you and me, on a team together. I like it.”
I grin back at him. “Yeah. Lots of memories, man. Good memories.”
The emcee announces the first players, and we move up closer to the ice as each guy skates out to uproarious cheers.
“Let’s get out there and smash it,” Dawson says over the noise.
I raise my gloved hand and fist bump his. “You got it.”
“Introducing Ted ‘the Bear’ Powell, defenseman!” the emcee announces and Ted flashes us a grin before he skates out onto the rink to cheers.
“Join me in giving a huge Maple Falls welcome to Dawson Hayes, goalie!” the emcee announces, and I watch as Dawson skates out ahead of me.
Finally, it’s my turn. Being the homegrown hero and the captain, Coach made me go last, knowing I’ll get the biggest reaction from the crowd.
“And finally, tonight, the center for the Chicago Blizzard, a man who needs no introduction, Ice Breakers captain and hometown hero, Dan Roberts, better known as ‘Dan the Man’!”
I step onto the ice to the biggest cheer of the night and look around at a sea of number 29 jerseys, the crowd cheering and screaming my nickname, and banners with “Dan the Man!” “Roberts on Ice, Victory in Sight!” and “Roberts Rules the Ice!” I spot a few supporting the team, “Ice Breakers Freeze the Opposition!” and “Breaking the Ice with the Ice Breakers!” which makes me feel better—it’s not all about me, after all. We’re a team, and every cog in the wheel matters.
I wave at the crowd to more cheers, the buzz electric.
Man! This never gets old. Skating out onto the ice in front of a huge crowd alongside my teammates, knowing we’ve got one another’s backs, vying for the win.
Only this time, the feeling is even better because this time, I’ve got the woman I love out there in the bleachers—the very bleachers she hid beneath only a few short weeks ago—cheering me on, wearing my jersey. I haven’t had that feeling since I played in high school, and it feels fantastic.
I know exactly where she’s sitting and I look up to the section, searching for Keira. My eyes land on her in a sea of number 29 jerseys. She’s grinning and waving at me, her gorgeous blonde hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders, the look on her beautiful face filling me with love.
And then the puck drops, and the game is on. I’m at center, eyes locked on McNeil, the cocky Lumberjacks’ star player. He’s got control, weaving through our defense like a snake, just as he has in countless games I’ve played against him in the League.
But then Nate intercepts McNeil’s pass with a deft flick of his stick. The crowd roars as he bolts down the ice, threading through defenders like they’re standing still. He eyes Cooper and passes the puck with pinpoint accuracy as I get into position, hoping for my own shot at a goal. With a quick glance, Cooper sends the puck my way, gliding smoothly, and I catch it with my stick. Time slows as I line up my shot, laser-focused. I can almost see the goalie’s eyes widen, and I spot my opening.
I strike.
It’s as though the entire arena is holding its collective breath as the puck sails past the goalie’s outstretched glove, slamming into the back of the net with a satisfying whack! The red light flashes. It’s a goal!
The crowd erupts and instinctively, I look up at Keira. She’s on her feet, cheering for me along with Benny and Hannah, who are bouncing up and down as though they’re on a trampoline.
Cooper skates over, grinning, and we exchange a triumphant fist bump. Nate joins us, and we celebrate together. This is what we live for—only I’ve got something even more important to live for now, and before my brain even catches up with what I’m doing, I’ve skated over to the plexiglass in front of Keira where I blow her a kiss .
All heads turn to look at who I’m aiming for, and Keira’s flushing face tells them exactly what they want to know.
She mock glares at me, and I shrug, grinning.
The cat is well and truly out of the bag now, and I could not be happier.
I return to my position, and we launch back into the game. With every slice of my skates, with every hit of the puck, with every slam against the plexiglass, my heart beats for Keira.
The Lumberjacks manage to score a goal, and before we know it, we’re in the final moments of the game, the score tied at 1-1. It’s anyone’s game now, but I hope it’s ours. The Jacks’ right wing, McNeil, gets a hold of the puck again. Defensemen Ted and Noah are on high alert, determined to protect the net. But McNeil is relentless, gliding down the ice, flanked by his teammates, Carter and Diaz, and I just know his eyes are locked on the prize.
Noah steps up to block McNeil’s path, but with a slick maneuver, McNeil slips past both Noah and Ted as he passes the puck to Diaz with a swift flick. Diaz rockets forward, drawing Ted out of position. And that’s when it happens. McNeil seizes the moment, darting into the opening and Dawson braces for impact. I can almost feel it before it happens, the puck hitting the back of the net. As McNeil winds up and slaps the puck, it sails past Dawson’s knee and slams into its target.
The red light flashes, and we know, with only seconds on the clock, we’ve lost. Lumberjacks’ supporters erupt in cheers, and our supporters groan. After a valiant attempt by the guys to score another goal, the final buzzer sounds, and the game ends in a crushing 2-1 defeat. It’s not the way we—or the town—wanted this to go, but we can still hold our heads high, knowing that our newly formed team held the mighty Canadian Lumberjacks back from a much larger defeat.
As McNeil and his teammates celebrate, I take a deep breath and skate to the center, raising my stick to acknowledge the people of Maple Falls who’ve turned out in force to support us. Despite the loss, their cheers and applause ring out, with cries of “We still love you, Dan the Man!” and “Ice Breakers rule!” from the crowd.
Once more, I find Keira’s face in the crowd. She shrugs and smiles, as if to say you win some, you lose some, and I smile back at her.
We might have lost the game, but I’ve won back the person who’s been missing from my world for what feels like a lifetime.
As is the custom, we line up to shake hands with the opposing team, showing our respect for the game. Afterward, we gather in a tight huddle, Coach giving us a few words of encouragement.
“Tough night, guys, and not the way I bet you wanted your first game to go, but you did yourselves proud,” Coach says. “We’ve got a few things to work on at practice, but I’ll give you the rest of the night off.”
There are groans from my teammates, but I know as well as the next guy that after a defeat, you’ve got no choice but to pick yourselves up, regroup, and fix what failed in the game. Success in professional sport is as much of a mind game as it is a physical one, and a positive attitude and strong desire to win will get you places. This might not be the League, and we might not have played together as a team before, but we’re all competitive guys with a need to win. We’ll come back, better than before.
“Wrist okay out there?” Coach asks me, and it occurs to me I didn’t once give it thought during the game.
“It’s great, Coach,” I reply.
“Good man.”
We do a final skate around the rink, applauding the crowd before we head off the ice and out into the locker rooms.
I shower and change, ready to face the media—and the people of Maple Falls, as the Ice Breakers’ team captain.
Just as I did when I was out on the ice, I find Keira in the crowd. She smiles at me, and warmth spreads through my chest.
We might have lost the game, but I’ve won the girl .
“A disappointing result for a first game,” one of the journalists leads. “Do you think your team is up for the task?”
This isn’t my first rodeo. I’ve had media training and plenty of experience. I know how to spin a response to work in my favor as well as the next guy. Troy told me he chose me as captain for a bunch of reasons, including the fact I’m good with the press. I know how to work with a group of guys on the ice, and I know how to answer difficult questions.
“We’re a brand-new team. We’ve not played together before. I know that’s no excuse, but we’ve got a bunch of super talented guys on the team. We will regroup and come back stronger than before. Every game is a new opportunity, and we intend to grab that opportunity and run with it.”
I turn my attention from that particular journalist to a young, nervous looking guy in the front row.
“Why did you choose number 29 for the new team?” he asks.
“Someone very special to me is born on that date,” I reply.
“Who?”
“Someone special,” I repeat. I spot my mom and dad, standing next to Keira at the back of the room, and throw them a smile.
“You know something? My parents are one of the reasons I’m here today, and I don’t just mean alive. They were instrumental in that, too, though.” Laughter rolls through the room. “My parents supported me in my goal to make it to the NHL. They sacrificed a lot, and I’m honored that they’re here with me tonight.”
Heads swivel and my grinning dad gives a salute. Mom beams.
“Did you feel there were any specific turning points or key moments in the game?” another journalist asks, an older man with a comb over. I recognize him as Burt Hamilton, a journalist from back East.
“Like when the Lumberjacks scored that second goal?” I joke. “ Yeah, there were a few. We need to tighten up our defense, and we’ll be working on that in practice.”
“You were benched by the Blizzard for a wrist injury and got special dispensation to play for the Ice Breakers. That’s not usually the way these things play out. How’s the injury now?” Burt asks.
“I’ve had a lot of rest and rehab here in Washington. I’m cautiously optimistic I’m good.”
An attractive female journalist calls out, “What’s the most interesting or surprising thing a fan has done to try to get your attention romantically?”
I flick my gaze briefly to Keira’s. “Pretending to look for a contact lens.”
“Can you explain that?” the journalist asks.
“I can’t. But it worked.”
I know I’m being elusive. But seriously, what’s my personal life got to do with the game? Don’t get me wrong, there’s always someone at these things who asks personal questions, and there’s always much speculation about who we players are dating, so I guess I’m used to it. But it’s not their business.
“Who were you blowing kisses at?” she asks.
“Someone special.”
“A girl?”
“Maybe.”
“You’re not giving much away here, Mr. Roberts.”
I simply smile at her.
She tries another angle. “Your name was linked with Christy Mahoney not that long ago,” she continues, referring to a model I dated briefly last season. “Rumor has it she’s coming to the next game. Is that for any romantic reason?”
“I had no idea Christy Mahoney was coming to the next game,” I reply honestly. I haven’t even spoken to her since we dated briefly last winter. “But it’ll be good to see her.”
“So, does that mean you’re single? Your female fans are eager to know,” she persists .
I press my lips together. “How about we keep the questions to ice hockey?” I say before I lift my chin at another journalist who asks me a more appropriately hockey-related question.
A couple questions later, Troy, Zach, Scotty, and Coach Strickland thank everyone for being here and we get up to leave. I have plans to see Keira, and I’m excited to get to her.
As I make my way down the hallway, a group of fans approaches me, holding out pens and my jersey. A lone figure steps away from the crowd, holding up a camera and her press pass.
“Hey Dan,” she says with an easy grin. “Mind if I take a few quick pics for Athletic Edge ?”
Hearing the name of the magazine, I remember why I know her. We met for a photoshoot a few months back when her magazine featured me in the run up for the charity games.
“Sure,” I say, pausing. I pull my lips into a smile and I hear the camera clicking away. She’s done in no time. “It’s Willa, right?”
“It is,” she beams, obviously pleased I remember. “I won’t hold you up. I’ll see you ’round.”
“See you ’round,” I echo.
She jogs away, and I turn my attention back to the small crowd gathered around me. “How are you all doing tonight?” I ask as I sign the shirts.
“It’s a shame you lost,” replies a woman in her early-twenties, by the looks of her.
“It was,” I confirm because what else can I say?
“Me and my friends were rooting for you to win.” She indicates a group of women, all wearing thin clothing that must have had them freezing in the ice-cold arena.
“I hope we’ll do better for everyone next time,” I reply with a breezy smile as more jerseys and other merch are thrust my way to sign. I sign a bunch before I say, “Have a great night.”
As I smile at them in farewell and begin to move down the hallway, the woman I recognize as Lana, the one who wanted me to sign my jersey while she was wearing it at the Maple Fest, grabs my sleeve.
“We thought you might like to come back to our hotel room for a drink,” she purrs as she toys with her hair. “You could bring your teammates, if you wanted to, especially that Nate Simpson. He’s cute, though not as cute as you.”
I look at the women. They’re all dressed the same way as Lana, virtually the puck bunny uniform of form-fitting crop tops, tight pants, and—at least for a couple of them—bunny ears on top of their heads.
“Thanks for the offer, ladies, but I’ve got team stuff to do,” I reply, using an excuse I’ve relied on in the past to extricate myself from situations. “You have a great night.”
“Don’t go!” several of them squeal, pawing at me.
“Yeah, Dan. Don’t go,” Lana purrs as she clasps my arm.
This is getting out of hand.
“Sorry, but I’ve gotta go,” I say, deftly stepping out from their grasp and darting down the hall, aiming for the exit. Sometimes being 6′5″ is an advantage off the ice as well as on.
Some guys love this kind of attention, and I admit, when I was a rookie, I could not believe how easy it was to attract females. All I had to do was play for the team and afterwards, there’d be a bunch of women waiting to meet me—and more.
But those days are long behind me, and all I want to do is get to Keira, to hold her in my arms, and forget about tonight’s loss.
It’s then that I see her, standing in front of me, looking crestfallen in my jersey, and I wonder how much she’s just seen. However much it is, I’m sure she’ll understand. It’s not like I solicited the women’s attention. She’ll know they’re only interested in me because I’m a pro hockey player. It’s got nothing to do with the real me.
“Let’s get out of here, okay?” I say as I place a hand on her elbow and lead her away from the mob of persistent women.
“Good idea,” she replies, and we push through the exit and out into the cool fall night. Together, just the way I want us to be.