Chapter 20
Shannon was in a great mood when I got back to the room, excitedly telling me about everything she and Leena had done earlier. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen her quite this chatty before, and I couldn’t help but grin along with her.
“Mikko, the tree was enormous.” She held her arms out to the sides. “I don’t know that I understood how big it is!”
“I’m so glad you had fun.”
I leaned down to kiss Leena who was currently passed out right in the middle of the king-size bed in our suite.
“But I see far less shopping bags than I was imagining.”
Shannon nudged the two bags hanging from the side of the stroller—one for a bookstore I found for her, and another for F.A.O. Schwarz.
“We stopped in the toy store after we saw the Rockefeller Christmas tree. I couldn’t leave without getting her something.”
“What about you?” I turned back toward her, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I wanted you to spoil yourself too.”
She shrugged. “This was one of the best days of my life. I was plenty spoiled.”
Hearing her say that was enough to make me smile, wanting every day of her life to feel like this one.
“Good.” I toed off my shoes, stretching out on the bed next to my daughter, putting an arm behind my head. “Are you napping with us?”
Shannon looked at the two of us together with a soft smile. “No. I think I figured out the prince’s secret identity in this new book I started, so I want to see if I’m right.”
She turned back toward the living room, and I watched her go.
Even the way she walked seemed lighter than it had a week ago. I wasn’t stupid enough to think her walls were gone, and maybe they never would be. After everything she’d told me last night and everything I’d pieced together on my own, I was beginning to understand something about Shannon.
Maybe walls that tall weren’t knocked down. Maybe they were climbed, one careful handhold at a time, by someone patient enough to find them.
With each smile, each story she shared, I was determined to never let her regret letting me in.
I settled into my spot inside our blue line, tapping the blade of my stick against the ice while the linesman made sure both centers were set for puck drop.
Finding the girls’ seats during warmups was easy enough when every part of me was attuned to their presence. But they were right there—a little patch of white and blue tucked into a sea of red—impossible to miss now that I knew where to look.
My heart pounded, but it didn’t feel like nerves this time.
This was excitement.
My daughter was here, my wife was smiling, and I got to play the game I loved.
The linesman dropped the puck.
From my first shift, everything felt easier than it had all season.
I was still breathing hard and tired as hell. But this felt like second nature, like the game unfolded a second faster for me than it did for everyone else. Passing lanes opened before they were there. Wingers committed to moves before they realized I’d taken away their options.
Tonight I wasn’t chasing the play. I arrived exactly where the puck was, time and time again.
Halfway through the first period, one of their forwards tried to chip the puck along the boards, like O’Connell had in the first game. Except I didn’t let it by me. Tonight, I simply took one stride backward.
He skated right into the space I left him, expecting to win the race, but I beat him to it before he even had his stick out.
Carter was right where I knew he’d be, flying through the neutral zone.
The space between us was wide open, and the pass was so smooth I was sure it would be an instant replay.
Logan cleared the player who tried to knock him out of position, racing to catch up with Carter in time to receive a pass.
In the blink of an eye, the puck was buried in the back of the net, the horn going off.
I threw my arms in the air, screaming along with my teammates as we all worked our way to the bench.
1-0, in under 10 minutes.
“We’re so fucking back, baby!” Logan pulled me into a headlock and kissed my helmet. “Holy shit, I missed you.”
My breaths came hard, but I couldn’t help but smile, feeling the adrenaline taking over.
By the second period, it wasn’t one play.
It was all of them.
Every loose puck seemed to find me. Every breakout started on my stick. Every time New York tried to build momentum, our line shut it down before it ever became dangerous.
I’d spent so much of the last few months thinking about how much I was messing up this whole father gig, but tonight there was nothing left to think about.
Leena was with Shannon, safe and loved.
And suddenly, hockey was fun again.
New York pulled their goalie with over a minute remaining in the third, throwing everything they had at us.
The arena rose to its feet, every shot drawing louder cheers than the last, but the chaos never found me.
A rebound kicked into the corner, I won the race to it, banked the puck hard off the glass, and watched Carter skate to it in full stride.
As if a 2-0 lead wasn’t good enough, the empty-net goal sealed it.
The horn sounded a few seconds later, and we walked away with the W.
Gloves slapped helmets and sticks tapped shoulders while Logan skated over with the grin he only wore after wins like this. “What did your wife feed you today?”
I laughed, pulling my helmet off. “Peace.”
Logan slapped me on the back. “That’s a shame. I would have gone with a different p- word, but that’s just me.”
I shoved him away before looking up toward the stands one last time.
Shannon was already gathering her things while Nolan held a bouncing Leena on his empty seat. Even from the ice, I caught the smile my wife sent my way before disappearing up the stairs with Leena tucked against her shoulder.
Somehow, that felt better than the win.
The locker room buzzed with energy that only came after a road win. Music blasted through the speakers while equipment hit the floor one piece at a time, guys reliving plays and giving each other shit.
I hurried toward the showers, letting the hot water rinse away the sweat clinging to me. By the time I pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt, I was the first one ready to leave.
Richard was waiting outside my stall.
I sighed. “I know that look.”
“You skipped this afternoon’s interview.” He tucked his clipboard under one arm. “So this is the look of someone who’s done asking nicely.”
“I’ve got somewhere to be.”
“So do they.” He pointed toward the hallway leading to the interview room. “You’ve skipped every media availability since you came back. Tonight’s not optional. There are fines attached for another skipped interview.”
I scrubbed a towel through my hair. “Five minutes.”
“That’s all I’m asking.”
I pulled out my phone.
Mikko
Post-game interview. Have George take you and Leena back to the hotel. I’ll meet you there.
She liked my message almost immediately.
I smiled to myself before sliding my phone into my pocket.
Richard led Carter, Logan, and me into the media room, where a dozen reporters sat waiting with open laptops and cameras already pointed toward the podium. The second I walked in, conversations stopped.
We took our spots behind the microphones, and I twisted the cap off a Gatorade.
“Thanks, everyone,” Richard said from the side of the room. “We’ll get started.”
The first question came from a reporter in the first row.
“Mikko, congratulations on the win. Two assists, plus over twenty-five minutes of ice time tonight. This was your strongest game this season. Did it feel that way to you?”
“It felt good.”
Another hand went up.
“This is the first time you’ve spoken to us since you took a leave of absence at the start of the season. How are you feeling now?”
“Better.”
Richard hung his head, but Carter leaned toward the microphone.
“I think we all saw the Giant is back and feeling great.”
“Can you tell us what changed?” the same reporter asked, unsatisfied with my one-word answer.
“I’m feeling a little left out here, man.” Logan leaned back in his chair, and several reporters laughed.
“Next question,” Richard said, then pointed to another reporter in the back row directing questions to my teammates.
I took a sip of my drink, then fiddled with the cap in my hand, chiming in when I needed to.
Before our time was up, Richard called on another reporter who’d been focused on me for several minutes. I didn’t recognize her, but that didn’t mean much—media wasn’t my thing.
“Mikko, I can’t help but notice you’re sporting some new jewelry. Did you get married?”
The cap stilled in my palm, but it was too late to put my hand back under the table.
Shannon had said it was okay to mention her to avoid discussing Leena, but I kept my family private for a reason.
They were mine. Not the team’s. Not the media’s. Not the fans’.
Mine.
Before I decided on an answer, Richard said, “He did, yes. Last question.”
My blood boiled at the simple statement, and even more so when Richard told them about how it was a small, private ceremony.
Carter took the last question, and the three of us filed out of the room.
As soon as we were outside, I stepped up to Richard, waiting until his back was against the cinderblock walls.
“You do that again, I will refuse every single media interview you ever put in front of me. Understood?”
Richard held his hands up. “I told you this would happen. We weren’t getting out of this without saying something, and Shannon gave the okay on the plane.”
“Keep her name out of your mouth,” I hissed. “She told me it was okay, not you. You should have let me answer the way I wanted instead of jumping in.”
Logan pulled me away from him before I let my temper get the best of me, dragging me down the hall.
I was still fuming when we loaded onto the team bus, headed for the hotel.
“There’s smoke coming out of your ears,” Frankie said when he sat down next to me. “On a scale of one to nuclear, how concerned should I be?”
I grunted, then looked at our trainer. “I was great until Richard messed with my family in the media room.”
“Anxiety?”