Chapter 12
CHAPTER
TWELVE
brUCE
I’m in net this evening for game two of round one of playoffs, but it’s extra special because it’s my birthday. I’m officially twenty-eight now. It might seem childish to love your birthday, but I love my birthday. A whole day to do nothing but celebrate yourself? Who wouldn’t want that?
And even better, I know we’ll go out and celebrate after the game.
We’re all in the tunnel waiting to be announced. I usually lead the group and Remy, our captain, is announced last since he gets the most hype. But right before I’m about to skate onto the ice, our general manager, Tom Parker, grabs the back of my jersey to stop me.
“Change of order tonight, birthday boy.” He pats me hard on my shoulder.
I grin, hoping they have something fun planned. Sure enough, Mitch, Colby, West, Remy, and a few others are announced on the Jumbotron. Stevie Wonders’ Happy Birthday to You begins blaring through the arena speakers.
Tom smiles at me. “All right, now it’s your turn. Have fun tonight.”
“Will do.” I bound onto the ice, feeling excited to have my moment. The crowd goes wild and West and Remy skate toward me with a giant birthday hat made to fit over my helmet. I let them place it on my head then start dancing to the music and trying to do the electric slide. The fans love it.
I look at the opposing team sitting on their bench—the New York Patriots—and they all look bored and like they’re ready for the game to start. I wink at them then make my way toward my net, but Remy smiles and points to the plexiglass between our bench and my net. I’m shocked to see not only my parents, but also my sister and her baby—who’s wearing tiny headphones—and I immediately skate over toward them. They’re all wearing red jerseys with my number, and my niece is swaddled in a D.C. Eagles blanket.
My dad’s short, brown hair is neatly combed to the side as always, his hazel eyes shining with pride as he looks at me. I know it was hard for my dad to don an Eagles jersey when he grew up rooting for the Quebec Wolverines, so the sentiment means that much more. My mom’s tiny form is swallowed up in her jersey. Her almond shaped, dark eyes sparkle the same way my dad’s are. My mother has had the same hairstyle for as long as I can remember…sleek, black and styled in a short bob. My sister inherited my mom’s black hair and dark eyes but has my father’s face shape. And they’re all under five feet eight inches. I feel even bigger than them than usual with all my gear and skates on.
I’m not sure why but seeing them here for this game makes my throat feel tight. I thought my parents had been so busy with my sister and their new grandbaby that they’d forgotten about me. But knowing they flew all the way down here to surprise me for my birthday means more to me than they’ll ever know. I rip my helmet off and try to talk to them through the glass and the noise of the crowd. We can’t hear each other, but I can read lips well enough to know they’re saying happy birthday .
Remy gets my attention and moves his hand in a circle, telling me to wrap it up and I do, blowing my family kisses before moving to the goal.
The puck drops and the first period goes by in a blur. I’m feeling it tonight, obviously on a high from my big day and knowing my family is here. Wanting to win and make my birthday even better propels me to be more aggressive. If the second and third periods go anything like this one, it’ll be an easy shutout—which means the other team doesn’t score a single goal.
A shutout on my birthday? I couldn’t think of a better present. Well, I could. But it involves Farrah Remington and a dark, corner booth.
The second period begins, and a few minutes in, one of the Patriots’ players gets a breakaway and comes flying toward me. I’m ready with my legs bent and my hand up. He tries to fake me out, wanting me to expect a shot around my legs, but my instincts tell me to watch the upper, left corner, and it pays off. He picks the puck up with his stick and flicks it toward the corner, but it flies right into my waiting glove.
The center loses his footing and flies into my net, knocking me down. His stick is tangled between my skates and the refs skate over and untangle us. Mitch eyes the poor kid furiously, I can tell he’s itching for a fight but holds back.
I breathe a sigh of relief when the game continues without a fight, because the last thing we need is a penalty and to give the other team a power play—which is when one of our guys is in the penalty box for two minutes.
The game comes to an end, and I get my birthday shutout—only my third shutout this season.
When I get to the locker room, Coach Young takes a moment to praise me for my shutout, then I strip down quickly to shower. I’m usually the last one out of the locker room, not just because it takes forever to get out of my goalie gear, but because there’s no one out there waiting for me. Today, I’m anxious to get out to my family. I haven’t seen them since we played Quebec a few months ago.
“You were on fire out there, Brucey,” Colby says as he walks through the locker room naked as the day he was born. He’s wearing just a smile and his shower shoes.
“Thanks, man. My birthday present to myself.”
Mitch comes around the corner from the showers with a towel secured around his waist. When he spies Colby, he rolls his eyes. “Geez, Knight. Put some clothes on.”
West hears Mitch from his cubby, grabs his damp towel, and rushes over to snap Colby’s bare butt with it. Colby rubs his butt and screeches. “What the hell! I’m getting dressed! Mind your own business if you don’t want to see this heavenly bod. That’s what Noel calls it, by the way.” He winks.
We all roll our eyes. I can’t even remotely imagine the ever-serious Noel saying something like that. But who knows.
Remy, whose cubby is across the room next to West’s, shakes his head at our antics as he ties his dress shoes then stands and strides toward us. His eyes are shifty, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s hiding something.
“I’m sure you’re excited your family is here,” he says, still not looking at me. “I guess we’ll see you early Sunday morning for our flight to New York.” He clears his throat.
“You’re a terrible liar.” I snort a laugh. “I’ll see you at my surprise party in an hour.”
Remy’s eyes finally meet mine, and they’re comically wide. “How did you know?”
All the guys groan in unison, but I just grin. “Because you just told me, Cap’n.”
Remy’s palm comes up to his forehead. The guy couldn’t lie to save his own life.