Chapter 36 JP - CENTRE ICE
“Well, we have two options,” Johnny said on Saturday morning.
He unbuttoned his expensive peacoat and draped it over one of my dad’s wooden kitchen chairs.
Instead of talking on the phone or over zoom, he decided to stop by my dad’s since he was also in Michigan visiting his family for the holidays.
“First option, I can reach out to Mark and ask for a signature for the divorce.”
Ali tensed in her chair next to me. I hated how nervous she looked with her shoulders hiked up to her ears. My hand snaked down to the bottom of her chair and pulled it closer to mine. I wrapped my arm around her shoulder, and she gave me a small grateful smile.
“I know you did that before, but that was years ago,” Johnny continued. “Maybe he won’t care as much anymore, maybe he forgot.”
Ali held her forehead, looking uneasy.
Johnny’s eyes bounced to mine. “I can see you guys don’t like that option, but I think it’d be the easiest and quickest way.”
“What’s option two?” I asked.
“We file without him.” Johnny shrugged. “Because there are no kids or assets tangled up, it wouldn’t be too difficult. The court would probably give us a timeline at that point. If we pass the allotted time without him contesting, you will be legally divorced.”
“I like that option,” Ali said quietly. Her eyes went to mine, almost like she was seeking reassurance.
“How about we try door number one, and if that doesn’t work, we’ll go for door number two,” Johnny suggested.
“And what if neither of those doors work?” Ali asked.
“Don’t worry,” Johnny said confidently. “We’ll get this figured out. Whether he’s agreeable or not, it just changes how much work I have to do.”
Ali let out a shaky sigh.
“Let me be frank, this asshole could make it easy, or he could make it annoying and pricey,” Johnny continued. “Either way, I’ll get you that divorce, Ali.”
“Thank you,” she breathed out. For the first time since Johnny walked in the door, Ali’s shoulders seemed to relax.
“Thanks, Johnny,” I echoed her.
“No need to thank me, I’ll be billing ya, big guy,” he said to me with a wink.
Ali tensed again, but I just let out a laugh. “Of course you will.”
“You can do one thing to help me out though,” Johnny said.
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“Wanna stop by the Richard Kappers Memorial Rink and—”
“Nope. Rinks are not allowed to change names, it’s Centre Ice,” I said dryly, making Ali grin.
Johnny smirked over his mug of coffee. “Of course Kappy would go and name the rink after himself.”
Ali nudged my shoulder. “You guys are mean, it’s for his dad.”
“Ha, and himself,” Johnny said with a chuckle. “He just wanted his name up on a building. I respect it. Anyway, you remember my little brother?”
“Will? Yeah, of course.” His brother, Will, was about two years younger. I met him a couple times when Johnny and I played together in Ontario.
“He’s coaching a team of rugrats across town. They’re playing at Centre Ice later tonight. They’d love to see an NHL guy. Think you can stop by the game?”
Ali’s lips twisted into a smile, encouraging me to go.
I smirked. “Yeah, I’d love to.”
After Johnny left us alone in the kitchen, I could see him through the bay window catching up with my dad in the front yard for a couple minutes. Ali stood from the table and brought our mugs to the kitchen sink.
“What are you thinking?” I asked, moving behind her to loop my good arm around her waist.
She leaned into me and looked up to meet my eyes. “I’m thinking I'm determined to get this divorce.”
“Thatta girl.” I grinned, smoothing my hand down her side. “Do you really think he won’t sign the papers? It’s been a long time. Maybe he’s grown and changed?”
Ali turned forward to look out the window and paused for a moment. “I kept hoping he’d grow and change for years. I really don’t want to hope anymore, so I’d rather not rely on that option.”
I nodded in understanding and massaged her shoulder, but my heart hurt for her. “I get that. But having hope isn’t always a bad thing.”
“Yeah, I’m starting to realize that,” she said, turning in my arms to face me. “So long as you’re not around people who take advantage.”
I traced her jaw and before leaning down to kiss her. “I’ll never take advantage,” I swore.
She laid her head against my chest. “Thank you, JP.”
“Not something you have to thank me for, babe.” I dropped another kiss on her hair. “Wanna come to the game with me later?”
“I would, but Piper and Mrs. Kappers asked me to dinner.”
I frowned. “Where’s Kappy? Surprised he didn’t invite me.”
“Kappy left this morning to be back in Chicago for the game tomorrow,” she said, watching my face closely to monitor my emotions.
“I’m not upset,” I reassured her, rubbing her back with my good hand. “I’m glad I got the surgery. I’m glad I’m getting this out of the way.”
_________
Bittersweet nostalgia rocked into me as I made my way across Centre Ice’s expansive parking lot. I had more memories inside this big building than I had of being at home or school combined. This is where I grew up. This was my home.
Pulling open the lobby door, my eyes snagged on the bench by the garden that overlooked the pond stretching beyond the rink.
This rink is where I fell in love, and it was where I had my first real heart break.
I could still feel the burning ache in my chest from when I practically begged Ali not to move in with Mark Rossi.
Inside the rink, so much was the same—the colors of the walls, the youth team logos, the banners of past championships, the rubber-covered picnic tables in front of the concession stand—but one major difference had my throat burning.
It’s almost like I was expecting Hans to pop up from the front office.
I’m not sure I’d ever get used to the fact that he wasn’t here with us anymore.
“Hey,” Johnny called from across the lobby, pulling me from my memories. He waved me over to the East side rink.
After joining the kids in the locker room for their pre-game pep-talk, I climbed up into the metal stands and took a seat near the empty cinderblock press-box.
The teenager controlling the stop-clock blasted some pump-up jams as the two teams filed onto the ice for warm-ups.
Johnny waved at me from his spot on the team bench. He and his brother practically looked like twins, except Will was in a team jacket and docker pants while Johnny still looked like a lawyer in his peacoat, beanie, and scarf.
Taking a sip of my hot chocolate, my eyes drifted over to watch the home team’s side of the ice.
It was weird to be here at Centre Ice but supporting an away team.
I spent years in Centre Ice’s signature black, white, and light blue jersey.
The coach had his back turned as he went over plays on the white board for a couple kids.
He had a lanky, bow-legged build, and dark hair flipping out under a ballcap.
His stance seemed familiar, but I couldn't quite place who it was. It must’ve been a guy I played a season or two with.
I squinted hard across the ice, trying to recognize him.
As soon as he turned to face his team, a chill skated through my system.
No fucking way.
I squeezed my eyes shut, thinking my head was playing tricks on me.
The nostalgia must’ve been somehow tainting the way I was seeing this place.
But nope.
When I opened my eyes again, I saw the exact same thing.
The coach standing on the home team bench was none other than Mark Rossi.
Mark, the same Mark that hurt Ali in more ways than one, was coaching kids at the Richard Charles Kappers memorial rink.
As the game started, I tried to pay attention to the kids, but my attention kept drifting over to Rossi on the home team’s bench.
He used to have a strong jaw and sharp cheek bones, but his face grew puffy with age. As he walked across the bench, I could tell he still had that cocky air to him that I always hated.
The two teams were like night and day.
Will and Johnny’s kids were sitting in all different states on the bench, some slumped over, others standing, resting against their sticks.
Each time music played between shifts, their back-up goalie was busting out dance moves and hyping up his teammates.
Will and Johnny ducked toward kids here and there, giving them pointers.
At the end of their shifts, the kids kept trying to jump over the boards and into the box with varying states of success.
I laughed as Johnny had to help pull a kid into the box when he got stuck on top of the boards.
Rossi’s team resembled a military unit. Each kid sat in the same way—hunched forward with eyes trained on the game. Rossi stalked back and forth across the bench, ignoring the kids sitting while yelling at kids on the ice.
After a player on Johnny’s team scored, the player went crazy, doing an over-the-top celly toward the small crowd, making me laugh. His teammates in the box absolutely erupted for him, jumping up and down and pounding on the boards with their sticks.
Rossi’s team was the complete opposite. After a goal, the only celebration each kid did was raising their stick in the air. Watching the kids on the bench, my stomach twisted. They didn’t even look happy for each other, which defeated a huge fucking point of playing on a team.
There were a couple kids on each team that had immense talent.
One kid, #4 on Rossi's team, was definitely the leading scorer. But I couldn’t tell if it was because he was just that good, or if it was because he was getting double-shifted the entire game, meaning he was being given more opportunities than other players.
The curious thing about the kid was that he didn’t even look happy when he scored a hattrick.
The road to success in hockey was a very long one, if kids weren’t having fun at this age, it was pointless to continue.
Rossi was ruining the sport for these kids.