13. Shay
SHAY
“I’m on my way back home now. Probably going to take Kyle for a walk and get a good stretch in. What are you and Dad up to?” I ask my mom.
She called me the moment I got into my car to head home from the rink. We landed back in New York, thankfully early in the morning so I have most of my day left to myself.
We beat the Patriots and only need one more win to secure our spot in the semifinals. Since my conversation with Matt in my hotel room, he’s really focused. Maybe a tad bit quieter, but even during the game, I swear he was looking at me as his coach and not whatever else I might be.
“We are going to get some groceries and then maybe stop for ice cream,” she says as my dad shouts something in the background, probably yelling at a driver, as he dislikes anyone else existing on the street.
“Oh, stop it.” She laughs at him before talking to me.
“You guys are getting so close. Ahh. It’s so exciting, sweetie. We are so proud of you.”
A lump forms in my throat, the backs of my eyes burning as I pull into the parking garage of my building. “Thank you.”
“Of course, honey. We always knew you would bounce back. If anything, you seem ten times stronger. You’re doing so great,” my mom coos, and I feel like a little girl, wanting to jump into her arms for the biggest hug.
They’ve always been my biggest supporters my entire life. From my learning to skate to getting drafted to the PWHL, they’ve been there cheering me on. I couldn’t have gotten this far without them.
“I love you guys.”
She lets out a breathy, “Aww. We love you too, sweetie.”
My dad shouts in the background, “Love you, kiddo!”
“I’ll call you guys later,” I tell her as my dad hits his horn. “Oh my God, get that man under control.”
“Oh, I’ll try.” She laughs. “Bye, sweetie. Love you.”
“I love you too.” Dropping the phone from my ear, I catch it and end the call, tucking the phone in my purse before killing the engine of my car.
I spring out of my car and lock it, excited to get upstairs and squeeze my baby boy. Thankfully, there’s no one waiting for the elevator when I walk in, and I make my way up to the twelfth floor, the anticipation eating me alive.
The second I press the first key on the door, Kyle’s on the other side, whining and jumping up against the door, crying out.
Kyle’s sitter left about an hour ago, so I don’t even have to people anymore today. I can just change, take Kyle for a walk, and maybe nap. Sounds like a great day to me.
Don’t forget your appointments.
What if I just reschedule all my adult responsibilities for today?
Would that be the end of the world? Who really needs a therapy appointment to discuss all their frustrations with their nerve damage, their growing feelings for a man who is off-limits, the pressure building from the Nighthawks fan base on social media, or the overall overwhelming feeling that this is all building to a point and I’m randomly going to snap?
Okay, fine, maybe I need my therapy appointment.
When I push the door open, Kyle can’t contain his excitement, leaping up and practically knocking me back into the hallway. “Hi, buddy!”
The cutest whimpers leave him as he pants and hops on his back legs. Hi, Mom! I missed you. You’re the most talented goalie coach ever. Or at least, that’s what I imagine he’d say if he could talk.
Rolling my suitcase inside and setting my purse down, I grab his harness and leash, making quick work of securing the harness on him. He’s practically vibrating by the time I clip the leash to him.
Grabbing my keys and phone from my bag, I tuck them into my crossbody bag I always use when walking Kyle. It’s already prepped with poop bags and treats.
“All right,” I tell him.
Gosh, he’s so cute. I drop down to my knees to give him a quick thousand smooches.
“You are the handsomest boy in the entire world,” I coo, my baby voice doing little to express the cuteness aggression building inside of me. “Ugh, I love you so much. I’m actually going to quit my job and just be a full-time dog mom, okay?”
He pants, smiling at me. I know he’d be in full support if I decided to do just that. But unfortunately, I love my job, so for now, we are working on trying to find a balance. During the offseason though, I’m going to be giving him my full attention.
“Come on, buddy.” I rub his head and open the door, ready to head out on a New York City walk with the best guy.
I can’t help but think of Matt right now though. How he thought Kyle was my human child. Like I had some secret baby that the media hadn't found out about. But there he was, ready to grab the diaper bag and help me out.
Ugh, he’s so annoyingly perfect sometimes; it drives me insane. He’s so sure that we have something special, but he doesn’t even know my favorite color or my favorite movie. He doesn’t know that I secretly hate sushi and I love pizza.
But he knows how to help me through a panic attack, how to read my emotions like he wrote the damn handbook, and how to make me feel seen in a way I never knew existed.
I never saw him coming, and I think that’s what makes me the most hesitant. I’m a control freak, even more so after the accident. All I do is search for ways to command everything around me because I lost control of a part of my body that had once been in perfect condition.
Sometimes, I feel so betrayed by my body because it never healed back to the way it was.
I know it’s doing its best, but it’s not the same.
I still can’t squeeze a shampoo bottle without breaking a sweat or popping a vein in my forehead.
I know it’s not my body’s fault, but occasionally, it’s like I’m claustrophobic because of the condition I’m in.
All I want is to escape it, get back to like it was before, but I can’t.
That lack of choice is the bane of my existence. Matt is an unexpected reminder of things I can’t control. Once again, I’m placing blame where it doesn’t belong, but it’s the only way I can make sense of my feelings.
He came out of nowhere that very first day and held me while I spiraled into the darkness I’d worked so hard to get out of. He knew my name and my face; he didn’t know me, but he showed up anyway. That told me a lot about who he really was.
And then there’s all the other little touches and moments. It’s like the universe is holding us like puppets, trying to make us get together. I’m listening—I am—but between his dad’s health issues and my own personal problems, is it really the best time for us to be leaning into one another?
Are we chasing each other because we deeply feel this connection or because it’s a welcome distraction from our demons? I think that might be my biggest fear—that he’s unknowingly using me as a crutch to help him through the most stressful time in his life.
That’s why I think waiting until the season’s over is the best idea.
It gives us both time to process and focus on the task at hand without distractions.
I mean, getting into a new relationship in the midst of the Stanley Cup semifinals is a horrible idea.
As his coach, I highly advise against it. As the girl he’s pursuing, I’m torn.
It’s complicated. I know everyone says that about their relationship, especially when there’s a clear solution that both parties are ignoring but it's the truth. What if we give it a shot right now and it goes horribly wrong? It could ruin his headspace and cost the team the win. Huang’s a great goalie, but he’s young, and he hasn’t experienced the pressures of this level of competition.
I’m not saying he wouldn’t succeed, but that’s a lot of pressure to put on a rookie goalie, fresh out of two years of NCAA hockey.
Besides, I want Matt to be focused and homed in on his craft.
I want this win for myself too. It would be a point in my journey where I once again found victory in the arena.
Not as a player or athlete, but a coach.
Kyle is happily trotting along as I continue to mentally ramble, thinking, overthinking, and then overthinking some more. I’ve thought myself in constant circles by the time we reenter the apartment and I unhook a worn-out Kyle, who beelines it to the water bowl.
My phone chimes, and I check the message, expecting it to be a Zoom link for my therapy session today, but it’s not. Lorea’s sick and heading out of the office for the rest of the day, and my appointment will be rescheduled to next week.
I sigh, relieved I can just relax. I love her and talking with her, but sometimes, I just don’t want to.
Kicking my shoes off, I stride down the hallway toward my bedroom and grab a change of clothes so I can take a quick shower and wash the travel and walk off my body. Kyle follows along, always a foot from me wherever I go.
He curls up on the bathroom floor as I start the shower, reaching behind the curtain. But when I twist the handle, only a few drops come out.
What the hell?
Turning it off, I try it again, hoping I turned it wrong somehow.
No water comes out this time.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”