22. McKenna
Today is by far the biggest moment of my brother’s life. Carson is playing in his first, regular-season NHL game this afternoon. He was drafted to the Minnesota Wolverines shortly after Cadence was born, but they wanted him to play another year of college hockey before signing him.
My parents, Cadence, and I are all here today to support him, and today’s game is an afternoon game. The 3 p.m. start time is great for Cadence’s current nap schedule.
We’re at the arena early, in our black and lime green jerseys with Wilder on the back, waiting for Carson to come on the ice for his rookie lap. It’s a tradition the league does with rookies at their first regular-season game. I know Carson has been waiting for this moment for his entire life.
Even though this is the biggest game of my brother’s career, a part of me is dreading being here. Not because I don’t want to support him, but because Carson plays the Colorado Summits—the team Griffin now plays for.
After almost two years, I wish I could forget that man exists. Or at least stop the butterflies from taking flight in my stomach when I think of him. Even after he shattered my heart and abandoned his daughter—not even acknowledging her existence—my body and heart still betray me.
Griffin Turner had the nerve to call me on my birthday and then just hang up. Where does he get off?
I wish he wouldn’t have hung up so I could’ve let him have it.
Oh, you want to wish me a happy birthday and call me by the name of endearment you gave me? How about you call me to ask how your daughter is doing? Or ask anything about her, since you know jack shit!
Instead, he took the coward’s way out. He used a blocked number, knowing I couldn’t contact him in return. And his old number? No longer in service. I’ve tried. I thought maybe he had blocked my number, but that wasn’t the case. He just disconnected the number altogether. Conveniently, right after I texted him telling him he has a daughter.
But today isn’t about Griffin. It’s about Carson.
I’ve prepared myself, knowing I’ll see Griff out on the ice. Thankfully, after we watch Carson’s rookie lap, we get to watch the rest of the game from the family and friends suite they set us up with, so seeing Griffin Turner from a distance won’t be as difficult to get through.
The buzzer sounds in the arena.
“Oh, look! Here he comes!” Mom jumps up and down.
Carson steps out onto the ice from the home team’s bench, grabs a puck with his stick, and fires it into the net. He takes a deep breath, and the biggest smile breaks over his face. He’s never looked more joyful than he does at this moment. Tears fill my eyes as Carson makes his way over to the glass where we’re cheering for him. He holds his glove up and waves at Cadence, who’s wearing a mini version of his jersey and noise-canceling headphones that take up most of her tiny head.
“Uncle Car Car loves you so much, Cadey Cat!” He blows her a kiss, and I hear girls screaming behind us.
Then the announcer’s voice sounds through the arena. “Make some noise for your Minnesota Wolverrriiiinnneeesssss!” And just like that, the ice is filled with players in black and lime green jerseys.
Carson skates away to begin his warmup, and I quickly turn to head up to the suite. The last thing I want is to be ice-level when I see Griffin for the first time in twenty-two months.
Right as I turn the corner for the suite, I run into Ian.
“Oh, hey, Ian. I didn’t know if you were going to make it today or not.”
He wraps his arms around Cadence and me, embracing us in a hug. “And miss out on my best friend’s rookie debut? Not a chance. How are you, Kenz?”
I slightly cringe inside every time he calls me that. He’s not the first person, nor will he be the last, to call me that. But there’s just something about the way he says it. Like it’s some cute nickname only he’s given me. Little does he know, no one else really calls me that because they all know I can’t stand it.
“I hope you don’t mind. Carson invited me to sit with you guys and join you for dinner and drinks after to celebrate,” Ian explains.
“No, not at all. I’m sure he’ll love to have you there.”
“I was hoping maybe he wouldn’t be the only one happy to have me here.”
Oh boy. This is awkward. I absolutely loathe awkward situations. Like, I straight up get hives from awkward shit.
Before I can say anything, he continues, “Look, I know today isn’t easy on you. Turner is here parading his bachelor lifestyle in your face. Just know I’m here for you . . . feel free to use that to your advantage . . . however you want.”
Gulp.What the hell? What is that supposed to mean? Does he mean I should use him to make Griffin jealous?
Ha! Even if I tried that out, Griff wouldn’t get jealous.
“I appreciate the offer, Ian. But I’m good, honest. Today is about Carse and celebrating his biggest achievement on the ice.”
Ian just nods his head before placing his hand on my lower back and guiding us into the suite.
Apparently, my delivery needs more work.
Note to self: Be far more blunt in my future rejections.
The moment I see him coming down the player’s hallway, I run up and jump into his arms.
“Great game, Carse. I’m so unbelievably proud of you. Scoring a goal in your rookie debut? Amazing!” I tell Carson as I bring him in for another big hug.
“Thanks, Mack. I think it’s because I had my good luck charm here tonight,” he says, letting go of me before making grabby hands at my mom. “Come here, Cadey Cat. Let Uncle Car Car hold his little lucky charm.”
Cadence practically throws herself out of my mom’s arms and into Carson’s outstretched ones. “How did she do?” Carson asks me.
“She did surprisingly well. She even tracked the puck and said Ca-Ca a few times,” I gush.
Ian slaps Carson’s shoulder. “Hell of a game, man.”
I stiffen as Ian wraps his arm around my shoulder, giving me a gentle squeeze that I’m sure is supposed to be reassuring; however, tonight, it just brings a wave of uneasiness.
“Ca-Ca,” Cadence exclaims, slapping Carson’s cheeks.
“Ouch!” he fakes being hurt, rubbing his cheek.
Cadence’s responding giggles make us all ring out in laughter, the sound echoing off the walls.
My laughter quickly dies as the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, but it’s not from Ian’s embrace. It’s from him.
I turn my head in time for my eyes to connect with chocolate-colored eyes. The same eyes I’d stared into every night as I read bedtime stories and sang countless lullabies until they peacefully closed. Only the eyes I’m staring into now don’t belong to my daughter. They belong to her father, Griffin Turner.