Chapter 22
FISHER
You’d think after such a rough start to my day with the unexpected visit from my dear parents, I’d be run down and barely standing. Instead, I’m invigorated and full of confidence. All because a tiny goddess stood up to my father. For me.
I can’t begin to describe how good it felt to have Lila and my roommates in my corner.
It was like the last glimmer of clarity I needed to confirm I’m making the right choice, turning my back on my family and pursuing the life that I want for myself.
Honestly, I’ve been floating all day, feeling lighter than I have in a long time.
Practice this morning was fast-paced and it felt like all my teammates were geared up and ready to kick ass tonight.
I caught a quick nap once practice was over, and now we’re back on the ice warming up before the big game against Seattle.
Round one of the playoffs is tied one to one, so tonight we have an excellent shot at pulling ahead.
Normally, during warmups, I’m finding women in the stands with Fisher signs, sending them a few winks, maybe blowing them a kiss…
just generally hamming it up for the crowd and the ladies.
Tonight, however, I’m focused on warming up and stretching my muscles so I’m ready.
I’m so zoned in, I don’t notice at first that Penn and Noah are off to the side in front of the plexiglass behind our net, where they’re smiling and talking through the glass to Hazel and Ally.
Several of the other guys are heading that way, too.
My eyes catch on a flurry of purple and turquoise, and I smile, realizing all the players’ wives and girlfriends—WAGs—are decked out in custom playoff gear. As a lover of fashion myself, I’m not ashamed to admit I’m a bit jealous of their sweet playoff jackets.
I skate over, hoping to find Lila, knowing she’ll be with Hazel and Ally. But when I skate up to the glass, my eyes widen. Lila’s wearing a shiny turquoise jacket with purple trim, my last name embroidered in sparkly gold thread on the right shoulder, and my number embroidered on the other.
Of course, I’ve seen the WAGs proudly display their partners’ jerseys and numbers, but until this moment, I’d never pictured what it would be like to have someone I care about wearing mine.
I like it more than I should…it gives me feelings I shouldn’t be having.
Like the urge to demand she always wear something to my games with my last name on it, so the world knows she’s mine.
I stop in front of her, glad the plexiglass is separating us, so I don’t do something stupid like grab her and kiss her.
Lila smirks at me and wiggles her shoulders to show off her jacket. She’s adorable.
“You like?” She yells over the crowd. “The team captain’s wife gave it to me!”
Her mesmerizing dark eyes meet mine as she speaks, and I nod, taking in her high ponytail and cat-eye makeup before allowing my gaze to drip down her body. Lila is hands-down the most stunning woman in the building. And she’s mine—for now.
All she’s wearing under the jacket is a lacy purple bralette and baggy jeans.
There’s a tiny mole on her stomach right above her belly button I’ve never seen before, and it fills me with a desire to discover everything about her…
to memorize every surface of her body, to know every dip, curve, and beauty mark.
“I like,” I finally answer. Scratch that, I love. “You look good in my number, Wife.”
Her grin falters for a moment as her eyes grow wide. Then, she bites her bottom lip, her gaze not leaving mine. Heat licks down my spine.
A whistle blows, jarring me away from the sexy look Lila is giving me. When I glance to my right, the Lions’ social media team is snapping photos of us. My stomach drops, an ache of disappointment landing like a rock in my gut that maybe I’m reading into it, and she’s just playing the part.
I force a smile on my face and tap the glass. “See you after the game.”
Lila smiles back. “Good luck, Hercules!”
Even if she’s simply being a good actress, her comment has me smiling all the way back to the locker room.
After a pep talk from Coach Anderson and Coach Slater, we shuffle back out for puck drop.
I wait on the bench as Noah skates out with the first line.
The puck drops at center ice, and our team captain deftly snags it, skating toward Seattle’s net.
My heart races as the players fly across the ice, each team wanting to score the first goal and get ahead.
A Seattle player snatches the puck when our captain tries to shoot it to Noah and slaps it all the way to the other end of the ice. A ref blows his whistle for an icing call.
My line is called, and I jump over the boards with Penn and three other second line teammates to switch out the first line.
We get into position for the faceoff in Seattle’s defensive zone, and I skate in front of the net, so I’ll be ready to catch the puck.
The whistle blows, and my line mate, Carver, dives right in.
He snags the biscuit and sweeps it away from Seattle’s grasp.
A Seattle defenseman storms toward Carver, but Penn moves between them and Carver passes the puck to me.
We’ve practiced this exact play many times, so I’m ready, deftly catching the puck with my stick.
Seattle’s goalie was expecting Carver to shoot, and he doesn’t move over in time to block my slapshot.
The buzzer sounds and the fans go wild when the puck flies into the top corner.
I raise my hands in the air as my teammates surround me, and we celebrate scoring the first goal of the game.
Skating a lap, I wave to the fans, making sure to stop in front of Lila and shoot her a wink.
She laughs, pumping her fists in the air and shouting my name.
If I wasn’t already on fire to win this game, I sure as hell am now. I want to see that smile on her face all damn night.
With the play finished, we all skate back to the bench for the first commercial break.
I’m pumped up and ready to get back out there but roll my shoulders to relax and take a few chugs of my Gatorade.
I’m sitting between Noah and Penn when the crowd starts whistling.
Penn nudges me and points to the Jumbotron where a blonde woman is waving to the camera and holding up a poster covered in glitter painted letters.
I don’t immediately read her sign because the woman looks so familiar…
I squint, trying to figure out where I know her from.
“Oh shit,” I mutter under my breath.
“Didn’t you…?” Penn lets the question trail off.
I widen my eyes in answer, my gaze landing on the sign and finally reading it. In giant purple letters it says FISHER IS MY FAVORITE FISH IN THE BOY AQUARIUM.
I’m still gaping at the Jumbotron when my face appears.
The fans in the stands are laughing and cheering, and whoever is running the camera gives the people what they clearly want by placing videos of me and the blonde—a model whose name I can’t even remember—beside each other.
Little hearts fly around the side-by-side videos.
A month ago, I would have loved this kind of over-the-top display, even played into it for the crowd.
Tonight, my mind is on one person only: my wife.
Thinking fast, I yank my left glove off with my teeth and hold up my left hand for everyone to see and shake my head side to side. The blonde puffs her bottom lip out in a dramatic pout, and I’m thankful I wore my black silicone wedding ring today.
The crowd laughs and awws then the Jumbotron goes blessedly back to the scoreboard as the commercial break ends.
The third line skates out to center ice for the next play and my gaze moves toward the section where Lila is sitting with Hazel and Ally.
I find my wife staring directly at me. She arches one eyebrow as if to say have you hooked up with every woman in San Francisco?
I grimace, raising my gloved hands and making a heart with them. Lila’s serious expression breaks into laughter.
During the second period, I score again, this time during a power play. Then once more at the very end of the third period—it’s an empty net goal, but I’ll take it. Those three little goals carry me to my first hat trick ever. I never even scored a hat trick in college.
The fans go so wild, I swear the arena shakes. The crowd throws hats over the plexiglass onto the ice—and a few bras as well. But I’m not looking at the crowd, the only person I want approval from is Lila. And she rewards me with a beaming smile just before she screams, “THAT’S MY HUSBAND!”
At least, that’s what I think she said, not sure how great my lip-reading abilities are. The game buzzer goes off, signifying the end of game three, of playoff round one, and we win with a staggering score of six to two.
My teammates practically carry me to the locker room, the excitement out of control.
We could probably fuel electricity into the entire Bay Area with our energy alone.
I bask in the attention from my teammates congratulating me on my first hat trick and for simply being a total badass out there—humbly, of course.
But I really just want to shower and get back to Lila.
I want to hear her thoughts about the game, maybe earn some praise for being a good boy—er, hockey player.
I also want to make sure she’s okay after the whole blonde model incident.
Lila seems very self-assured and confident, but if she felt even a pinch of how I did at seeing how close she and Zane are, she might want to throttle me.
The Lions locker room managers hand out towels to each of us, and Coach Anderson stalks into the room with a smile, possibly the biggest smile I’ve ever seen on the grump of a man.
He raises his hands to his chest, holding his palms flat in a silent urge for us to quiet down.
“Okay, boys. I get it; you were on fire tonight.” He chuckles.
“But we still have a long way to go. Round one isn’t even over yet.
But if you boys keep playing like you did tonight, we’ll be on to round two in no time. ”
Coach Slater steps forward, handing Coach Anderson a puck. He holds it up for everyone to see. “Also, Fisher, you’re always trying to be the princess of the team…and damn, tonight you absolutely were.”
Penn and Noah slap my shoulder pads from where they sit beside me, and all my teammates chant Fisher.
“Princess Fishy,” Coach says, tossing me the puck. “Congrats on your first hat trick. You did well tonight, kid.”
“Thanks,” I reply with a quick nod, trying not to look too pleased.
But I am. I started this season on the fourth line, barely believing I’d even made it to the NHL and expecting minimal ice time, and that makes what happened out there tonight even sweeter.
Sandine, one of our seasoned players, pipes up from the ruckus.
“Did your performance out there have anything to do with a certain blonde model who was practically begging for your attention?”
His teasing makes all the guys laugh.
“Nah.” I shake my head. “I get all the inspiration I need from my gorgeous wife.” I kiss the puck and toss it in the air, catching it with my left hand where my wedding band rests on my finger.
My coaches smile at my answer—both of them are happily married. One last round of cheers fills the sweaty room before all my teammates start stripping and making a run for the showers.
Once the locker room is quiet, Coach Anderson strides over with a look of pride on his stoic face.
“Marriage looks good on you, Fisher,” he says with a smirk. “Proud of you.” He exits the room, and I’m left staring after him.
The statement might seem simple, words most people wouldn’t think much of.
Just encouragement from a coach to his player…
but this might be the first time I’ve ever had that statement directed at me.
No, it’s definitely the first time. And to have it come to my coach, a man I look up to, makes it mean even more.
His comment is confirmation I’m not just a joke in everyone’s eyes.
My throat grows thick, and I have to blink away the sudden moisture from my eyes.
All the cool points I earned from my teammates tonight would vanish instantly if they saw me crying in the locker room.
As I make my way to the showers, everything feels so right.
I could’ve let my parents ruin my whole damn day after they humiliated me this morning, but instead I’m overcome with appreciation that I have incredible people in my life to support me.
If my parents write me off, cut me out of their will, never give me back my trust fund… whatever…I’ll be just fine.
Maybe a little less wealthy on paper, but I feel wealthier than ever. Wealthy with joy, wealthy with friends, wealthy with a job I love, wealthy with the community I’ve built for myself, and wealthy with the knowledge that Lila Chen is waiting for me outside this smelly locker room.