Chapter 34 Zeke
thirty-four
Zeke
It’s nice to have a night with the guys away from hockey.
Well, away from us playing hockey. The second Jeremy told us his dad bought us tickets to the Blackhawks game, we knew any plans that we had were out the window.
Because when we get a chance to see a game, we take it.
Especially when it’s against the St. Louis Blues.
The only hockey team I think I’ve ever hated in my life.
We don’t get to see Hawks games often because of our different schedules, but when we do, it’s the best time.
We tried to get Coach to come, but I guess his ideal Tuesday night doesn’t include spending time with seven Juniors from his hockey team.
If it was just Jeremy, I think he would’ve said yes.
Jere’s always been his favorite.
Declan’s a close second.
“We need to do this more often,” I squeeze Jere’s shoulder. “I know we live together, except Cam, sorry man—”
“No apology necessary.” Cam laughs.
“But I feel like I never see you guys outside of practice. None of you are ever home,” I continue.
“I’m pretty sure the person who’s never home is you,” Jaxon replies. “I’m home most nights. Especially since Brin has been hanging out with that Alex dude, we no longer do our movie nights. She doesn’t even go on runs with me in the morning anymore.”
“I’m pretty sure that has nothing to do with Alex and everything to do with the fact that Brin hates running.” Declan chuckles.
“If Brin hated running, then why was it her idea to run every morning to help me get my cardio in?” Jaxon takes a bite of his hotdog.
I lean forward to look at him. I can’t tell if he’s serious, but if he is, maybe Jax isn’t as smart as I thought.
Talk about fucking clueless. Even though Declan would never admit it, he knows about Brinley’s little crush.
I guess it’s not hard to see; she doesn’t exactly hide her feelings toward him.
On the other hand, Jaxon will do anything to avoid the fact that his feelings for Brinley might not be too far off from how she feels about him.
If it wasn’t for Declan, I think something would’ve happened there, but who am I to judge.
I’ve had a girlfriend for months, and they have no idea.
But Declan also has no right to use the “we don’t date each other’s siblings” rule because he’s doing just that by dating Ember. And he’s keeping it from Cam.
So, I guess we’re all keeping a secret of some sort.
“I don’t think I’ve been to a Hawks game since I was a kid,” Cam says. “Have you guys been to one recently?”
“I go with my dad whenever I can,” Jere replies. “He gets tickets from a friend all the time, so whenever we’re in town at the same time as the Hawks, and it doesn't interfere with my school schedule, I’m here.”
“I honestly can’t remember the last time I was at a game,” I add. “One of the last games I remember I went to one with Jere and his dad.”
“Oh shit, I forgot about that. That was a fun game. Crazy overtime.”
I don’t remember much from the game. I remember having a great time, but it was overshadowed by coming home and finding out my mom’s cancer was back. They asked the Moores to take me out, so I got to enjoy life before having that happiness ripped away.
“Hawks games were one of the few things that got Ember out of the house when we were kids,” Cam continues, and I can see a smile tugging at Declan’s lips with just the mention of her name.
“I think it was because she had a huge crush on Dylan Rhodes. Total googly eyes.” He laughs and then pauses. “Don’t tell her I told you guys that.”
“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have my own crush on Dylan Rhodes,” I respond.
Dylan Rhodes was one of the first hockey players I saw that made me feel seen in the world of the NHL. I remember watching games when I was a kid and seeing mainly White players, which was fine. It didn’t stop me from wanting to learn, but it didn’t give me hope for a future in the NHL.
But then, when I was about six, they interviewed Dylan Rhodes after one of the Hawks games.
It was his first post-game interview; he was twenty-two.
I remember being in awe, seeing a Black hockey player talk about how they made everything happen with all the odds against him. The following year, he became Captain.
He’s the player I’ve always admired in every aspect of the sport. And now he’s one of the older players in the league, yet he’s playing even better than he did in his glory years.
The teams are on the ice warming up, which means there are large crowds around the glass to try and get a glimpse of their favorite players or, if they’re lucky, maybe a puck before the game starts.
“Do you think she’s with him for the money? Or do you think she actually loves him?” Jaxon points toward the ice, where Rhodes stands talking to a girl, probably around our age.
“What makes you think she’s not just another fan?” Brooks shifts in his seat to see her better.
“I saw her with Rhodes earlier,” Jaxon continues. “His arm was around her, and he kissed her head. I’d say most hockey players don’t do that with fans.”
She turns her head slightly, and the second I see her face, I laugh.
“But they would do that with their daughters,” I reply.
“What?” Brooks squints at Rhodes and his daughter.
“But she’s like… our age,” Fletcher adds. “There’s no way Rhodes has a kid our age.”
“He’s not old enough to have a kid our age,” Jaxon continues. “He would’ve had to have her at—”
“Sixteen,” Cam responds. “She was born before his junior year of high school.”
“Holy shit!” Jaxon exclaims. “Why didn’t I know he had a daughter? And I thought our training schedules were hard with school but imagine having a whole fucking kid.”
“Everyone thought he was done when the news went public,” I say. “But he didn’t lose the fire and made it to the NHL anyway. Even though everyone said, he wouldn’t do it with a kid.”
“Damn… she’s hot,” Jaxon says, and I watch all of their heads turn and stare.
“Alright, put your tongues back in your mouth.” I roll my eyes.
“I’m not staring because she’s attractive,” Jeremy replies. “I mean, obviously she is, I just can’t believe Rhodes has a kid. Like a grown kid.”
“I wonder what it’s like having Rhodes as your dad,” Brooks says. “I imagine it can’t be easy.”
“I don’t think she cares,” I continue. “She seems to like being out of the spotlight when it comes to her dad playing hockey. I think she just sees him as her dad.”
“So, are you going down there to flirt with her before or after the game?” Jaxon turns his attention toward me.
“Or maybe you’ll go over during one of the intermissions?” Fletcher asks.
“And what makes you think I’m gonna go over there at all?”
“Because you’re Zeke.” Declan chuckles. “When you see a woman you like, you approach her.”
“Not tonight.”
I guess now would be the perfect time to tell them I’m not going over there to flirt with her because there’s only one girl on my mind. The only girl I care to see after this game.
“I’m with Zeke on this one,” Cam begins, “I don’t think approaching Dylan Rhodes' daughter during a game is a bright idea for any of us. He could shoot a puck right at us.”
“Totally worth the risk,” Jaxon mumbles.
“Nope.” I smack the back of his head. “Tonight is about us. Just the guys.”
“I never thought I’d hear those words from the ladies' man.” Declan looks over at me. “Turning over a new leaf?”
“Something like that.”
It’s the third period, and we’re up by one, which means nothing in hockey. They could end up beating us by ten if they worked hard enough. Rhodes has been on his shit tonight, though. He scored two of our four goals and assisted on a third.
You’d think he’s trying to prove himself to somebody with how well he’s playing tonight. Not that I didn’t expect it. Rhodes is the kind of player who feels like they can always do better.
“I heard this is his last year.” Declan leans over to me. “That his body’s telling him it’s time.”
“Bullshit,” I argue. “Rhodes is still one of the best players in the league. It’d be stupid for him to leave now. I think he’s playing even better now than he did ten years ago.”
“Sometimes your body knows before your mind does,” Jere chimes in. “Better to get out before it’s too late. Why risk an injury that could change everything when you’ve had nearly twenty years in the league?”
“I don’t know, man, but this team is fucking killing it tonight, and I don’t know if we’d be winning right now if it wasn’t for Rhodes,” Fletcher says. “It’s like the Hawks are one person on that ice. They’re reading each other perfectly tonight.”
“Yeah, and those fucking Blues have gotten away with a ton of shitty hits tonight, so who knows what the score would be if they didn’t.” Jaxon leans forward as Rhodes grabs the puck and glides down the ice.
He flicks the puck as he approaches the goal, but their goalie catches it right before it crosses the line. There’s a collective groan among the Hawks fans, with applause sprinkled in from the Blues fans.
Their applause grows louder as one of the Blues players gets the puck from their goalie and rushes toward the other end of the ice. Our team is ready for it, though, preventing any of them from getting close enough to shoot an actual shot.
And before we know it, the puck is back in our possession, and we’re heading back to the other end.
I feel like I might get whiplash from the constant jumping around this puck is doing, especially during this last period.
Both teams have had ample shots on goal, but neither team has been able to seal the deal this period.
Rhodes is standing near the wall, closer to the center ice than the goal, which allows our other players to shoot wide at him in an attempt to get free from the Blues’ players.
He shoots the puck back toward 78 and skates down toward the net.
He positions himself in the corner, and that’s when I notice one of their players skating toward him.
There’s so much speed behind this player; it’s like he’s charging at Rhodes on purpose… even though he doesn’t have the puck.
Rhodes turns right as their player slams into him. The momentum from the hit sends Rhodes’ helmet flying one way as his body flies over the Blues player.
Everything happens in slow motion after that.
You can feel the tension in the air as Rhodes’ body flies, and the second his body connects with the ground, you can hear the crack of his skull.
Everyone in the stadium doesn’t know what to do.
Everyone’s on their feet, but I can’t tell if anyone is even breathing—
I know I’m not.
I can’t even comprehend what just happened.
Then, the refs speed toward Rhodes, whistles in their mouths. The whistle sounds a thousand times louder with how quiet the stadium is.
He’s not moving.
And I think I see blood… or I’m seeing things.
But I’m not too hopeful that the blood isn’t actually there.
He hit the ice hard. I don’t even think he’d be getting up right now if his helmet was on.
That’s how hard the hit was. And then the blow of the ice right after.
I can’t imagine two hits like that back-to-back.
The medical team rushes onto the ice. I don’t know if they even know what to expect as they approach him… and then it hits me—
His daughter.
My gaze shifts to her. She’s still standing where we saw her earlier. Except now she’s not smiling and having conversations. She’s frozen. Her mouth is slightly open, and I can see the quick rise and fall of her chest.
I turn back to the ice, and Rhodes is now on a stretcher, but I still haven’t seen any movement. They pick up the stretcher, moving him off the ice and revealing the large pool of blood that was under him.
Nobody knows what to do. Everyone just watches as they take him off the ice, and right before he disappears, his arm moves.
It’s barely a twitch. We all know it could mean nothing. It could just be a reflex or a muscle spasm. But we all want to hold on to hope that his arm moving was a positive sign. In a situation like this, it’s all you can do. Hope.
When I look back toward where his daughter was, she’s gone.
“Do you think he’s okay?” Jeremy asks, his voice barely audible.
“I don’t know.” Declan sighs, all of their eyes still on the ice. “I hope so.”
“That was a dirty hit,” Jaxon mumbles.
But there’s no penalty called. I think everyone’s still distracted by what just happened. They bring out the Zamboni to “clean” up the blood stain, but I also think it’s to give the players a second to get their heads together.
The Hawks’ players seem hesitant to get back on the ice, and I don’t blame them. But I also know the last thing they want to do is forfeit the rest of the game when Rhodes carried them this far.
“Let’s go Hawks!” A scream comes from the crowd, breaking through the previous silence.
“Win it for Rhodes!” Someone else adds.
And then the game continues as if nothing happened.
We don’t win the game, though. The Blues come back full force, while our team doesn’t come back at all. Not mentally, that is. The Blues beat us by two.
But the loss doesn’t matter.
The loss is overshadowed by the loss of something much greater than a hockey game—
Dylan Rhodes.
He died the next morning.