Chapter Thirteen
EDDIE
I should have said no.
When the tickets came by courier, I should have left the envelope unopened. When the text message invite came, I should have made an excuse. I should have said no respectfully and wished him all the best.
Because coming to the Toronto Nighthawks home opener was a mistake. A huge, exhilarating mistake.
I am a seasoned hockey mom. Or I thought I was. I’ve been to more hockey games than I can keep track of. But none of those games were like this.
The arena is packed with fans of all ages. It’s a sea of blue and black jerseys as far as the eye can see. Everyone is grabbing snacks and drinks, talking at higher volumes than normal because of the excitement.
The lights are bright, shining down on the rink and making it shimmer like glass. And as Joey and I make our way down the aisle stairway, nervous butterflies begin to flutter in my stomach.
This is unbelievable, Joey says to no one in particular, looking down at his ticket, then over to the row of seating he’s stopped next to. His eyes come up to me, wide and exhilarated. These are our seats. Mom! Look how close to the ice we are!
We are incredibly close, only half a dozen seats up from the boards and on the Toronto side. We’d have a direct line of sight to where Sidney will be goaltending.
I am a mix of emotions at the moment, and I can’t blame it on being sick or the medication.
I had been forced to take the whole week off from work.
I’d originally tried to take only three days off, but my boss had taken one look at me via video call and demanded I take more time to recover.
She wasn’t being mean about it, and I understood it wasn’t a great look if your X-ray technician was coughing up a lung while asking you to hold still.
I still have a cough, and my energy isn’t at full charge yet, but I’m feeling like myself again. That’s why, when Joey had spotted the tickets I’d stupidly left on the counter, I couldn’t say no to coming tonight.
He’d been so excited, jumping around the kitchen, shouting about how amazing this was, texting all his friends.
He’d said more words to me in the last week than I’d gotten from him in the last year.
There was no chance in hell I was going to ruin what Joey kept calling the best night of his life.
He wanted to be a part of the home team action and watch his favourite player up close.
We’re so freakin’ close, Joey breathes, plopping into his seat. Mom, can you believe we’re here? Like really here?
I smile. Yeah. I can.
All of a sudden, there is a wave of noise.
Fans begin cheering, the volume in the arena going up a notch, and my ears ring.
The Toronto Nighthawks have made their way onto the ice for warm-ups.
Joey gasps and springs up from his seat, cheering with the crowd.
My heart thumps stupidly when I spot Sidney stepping onto the ice—focused, calm, in full pads and helmet.
This version of him…this version is a little terrifying. And overwhelmingly impressive.
He moves with sharp control as he steps onto the ice and glides to the net. I can’t take my eyes off him as he begins gliding side to side, post to post, in the crease, making the space his own, adapting the ice to how he likes it.
I can see him mentally tracking every shot, imagining his opponent and moving in for explosive saves. He looks locked in, confident, and untouchable tonight.
A spark of pride flickers in my chest.
SIIIIIIIDNEY! Joey screams.
It must be good timing instead of Sidney actually being able to hear Joey’s scream above the arena noise, but a second later, Sidney turns and looks up in our direction. He knows where we’re sitting. He sent us the tickets, after all.
It’s only a second. Maybe less. But he looks right at Joey, then right at me, and waves. I can’t see his expression through his helmet, but I have no doubt he’s grinning big.
I feel it all the way down my spine. Joey’s hand is going a mile a minute, waving back, but I can’t seem to do anything but smile. It feels so surreal to be here, watching Sidney do what he loves.
Joey doesn’t notice that I’m a statue. He’s too busy waving and taking everything in. When Sidney gives a little nod before turning away and refocusing, Joey spins to me.
This is so cool! he gushes. He sits for a moment, then springs back up. Can I go get a popcorn?
I’m brought out of my Sidney-induced haze and laugh. Of course he’s still hungry.
Sure. I grab my bag from where I placed it at my feet and pass him some cash. Do you want me—
Nope, he cuts me off, already heading out of the row and up the stairs. I have to bite back a curse. I’m not a huge fan of him running off so quickly but understand he’s a little overexcited now. He wants to spread his wings and be more independent, but…I’m struggling with learning the limit.
He’s not even gone ten minutes, and he returns with the largest popcorn imaginable.
The lines here are huge. I don’t think I’ve seen anything like that at my games.
No offense, kid, but your games don’t have thousands of fans in attendance. Yet, I add on, giving him a wink.
Yet, he agrees.
The lights dim then, and music starts blasting from the upper speakers. The arena descends into the roar of the pre-game pump-up montage. Lights flash in dramatic colours, and the announcer hypes up the crowd. When fire shoots up from the ice entrance, I jump, then laugh at the theatrics.
All the players skate out onto the ice, their names being screamed by both the crowd and the announcer. My heart gives a little kick when Sidney takes his place in the lineup.
As the lights dim for the national anthem, a couple scoots into our row and sits beside me. They both guzzle their beers throughout the performance. When the music stops and the lights brighten, the woman turns to her partner and sneers.
Do you think Crane will actually not suck this year?
The man side-eyes her, shrugging. He wasn’t that bad last year, but who knows? We got some good picks in the draft this year, so hopefully, this team will fucking do something this season. I’m tired of losing.
They laugh, but an angry tickle works its way up my throat.
What the hell are these two talking about? I don’t know anyone’s hockey stats but my son’s, but I’m confident the Nighthawks did fine last year. They made it to the semifinals, for crying out loud!
It’s not my place to correct them…but I am so, so tempted.
The game begins in a flurry of speed and noise. Joey screams himself hoarse. I cheer along, getting swept into the momentum despite myself.
Sidney is phenomenal.
Sharp. Fluid. In the zone. Blocking shot after shot like gravity doesn’t apply to him. By the second period, even the couple beside us is impressed.
Damn, one says, whistling low. What’s up with Crane tonight? He’s locked in.
He must have something to prove, the other agrees. Or someone to impress.
Maybe both, the first guy jokes. I’m just happy we’re back to stopping the opposition.
The Nighthawks win 3–1. Joey explodes into full celebration mode, punching the air and high-fiving the people around us. Watching him absolutely lose his mind has me holding my stomach, I’m laughing so hard.
We stay in our seats until the rink is clear and the Zamboni slowly starts making its rounds. I’m about to ask Joey if he’s ready to head home when he turns to me and asks, Can we head down to see Sidney?
I stare at him, confused about what he’s asking. I don’t think they allow the public down near the locker rooms, Joey.
Sidney said it would be fine. He texted me that he gave security our names.
Wait. What? That short sentence held a lot of information that I wasn’t clued in to. Sidney has your cell number? Since when?
He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. Since you were sick. We exchanged numbers just in case something else happened. He texted me yesterday about the game tickets.
My mouth opens into an O. You little sneak. You didn’t see the tickets on the counter. You already knew they were coming!
Duh, Mom. Sidney bet that you’d find an excuse not to come tonight. But if I wanted to… In a move that’s both impressive and will haunt me till my dying day, Joey pumps his eyebrows at me in a smug fashion.
I can’t believe you two. That’s such a low move. Ganging up on your mother.
He shrugs again, neither confirming nor denying. I am going to have a word with Sidney about his underhanded tactics. He is clearly influencing my son to the dark, sarcastic, sneaky side.
I have no choice after that but to nod and follow Joey down another level to the tunnel that the players come through before and after the games. There’s a small part of me that wants security to turn us away when Joey gives our names. I want to see Sidney, but I’m also nervous all of a sudden.
It’s one thing to hang out with Sidney when it’s a casual situation. Tonight, we’re at his place of work, surrounded by media and hundreds of fans who wear his jersey. Our friendship, or whatever this is becoming, just got a whole lot more complicated.
And that makes me doubt myself and what he wants from me.
Oh my God, Joey whisper-hisses beside me. It’s Mason Warren.
Players file past, some I recognize and some I don’t. The man who stops in front of Joey, smiling at my son’s awed face, is Max Dawes.
You’re ogling Warren over me? Come on, man, you gotta have better taste than that, kid.
N-no, sir. I mean, you’re both incredible. I’m a huge fan. Sidney talks about you guys all the time.
Mason Warren stops beside Max, looking confused at Joey’s words.
You know Crane?
Yeah. Him and my mom are da—
Joey!
Sidney comes bounding down the tunnel, arms spread wide as he approaches our little group, stopping all conversation. Thank God. My heart was in my throat at Joey’s comment, and I wasn’t sure how I would be able to backtrack if I needed to.
Hey, Sidney! Great game! Your save against Henderson’s breakaway. So good. I watch enthralled as Max and Sidney give each other a weird handshake before Sidney’s attention comes to me.
Did you have a good time, Eddie? The shy smile he’s giving me, lets me know he’s aware that I’ve been made aware of his sneaky tactics to get us here.
Yea, we had a great time. The seats were incredible. Thank you.
Ohhh, Max singsongs. So this is the mystery woman.
Oh my God, Mason groans beside him, covering his face. Dawes, not everything that crosses your mind has to come out of your mouth. He turns to me. Please ignore him. He’s had too many concussions, and his manners are often forgotten.
What? No, it’s fine. Max smirks. Sidney has been dying to share more details about— He pauses for a second, and I can see the wheels turning behind his eyes. —Eddie and Joey. Weren’t you, Sid? he finishes with a bright and smug grin.
Joey perks up. Sidney’s been talking about us?
Sidney makes a rude gesture at Max while Joey looks at Mason. I get from the exchange that not everything Max is saying is true.
I’m not sure what I want more. For him to actually be talking about us or for him to be keeping our relationship a secret.
I sure have, man, Sidney finally pipes up, catching Joey’s attention again. But Max and Mason have to go now. Say bye, Max and Mason, Sidney instructs like they’re five.
Both men look at each other with shit-eating grins before saying bye at the same time.
Don’t think we aren’t going to talk about this, Max semi-threatens as he walks away with a wave. Sidney ignores him and looks over at me, a slight pinkness to his cheeks.
Sorry about them. Max can be…a lot. Especially when he’s riding high after a win. His eyes scan me over, and I feel my body tingle under his gaze. You feeling okay? he asks quietly.
I nod. Better. Mostly still tired.
You shouldn’t be out this late yet, he murmurs, frowning as his hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. But…I’m selfishly glad you came.
At his touch, I feel my whole body ignite. Any lingering traces of fatigue evaporate under his fingertips, and my heart flips. His brown eyes lock with mine, and the tender look that comes over his face has me melting.
I’ve been trying to ignore what’s happening, telling myself Sidney will lose interest or decide I’m too much work with a kid in tow. Yet right now, right here, with the way he’s looking at me, I know I can’t keep lying to myself.
He’s a grown man. He knows what he wants. And over the last few weeks, he’s indicated that what he wants is me.
I want that too. It’s time for me to stop fighting it and see where this is going.
I lean into his hand, letting his palm briefly cup my cheek before he slowly pulls away with a knowing look.
Sidney! someone behind him calls. You have media!
He glances over his shoulder, then back at me. Can you guys wait here for a couple minutes?
I nod, trying not to giggle over how happy and free I feel. Okay.
He claps Joey’s shoulder affectionately, gives me one last long look, then jogs toward the tunnel to catch up with his teammates.
Joey exhales loudly, starstruck. Mom, he says, giving me a side-eye. He totally likes you.
I cover my face with my hands, grinning like a fool. Yeah. He really does.
And I am in so much trouble.