Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
We just got back to Nebraska from a game against the Wisconsin Warriors. The Knights won three to one.
The only ice time I got was during practice. Ted is a bear out there and the guys work seamlessly. It’s almost an art form how they pass the puck to each other.
For a moment, I daydream about what it would look like to somehow attach a paint dispenser to the puck and see what kinds of lines its path would form. Would it create a shape? A message? Or just look like a kid went wild with a giant crayon?
Yeah, Derek is right. Sometimes I am in my own little world.
But I want my world to include Heidi and Bunny. We messaged a bit while I was out of town, but it’s hard to gauge whether she still wants to be my girlfriend or if she wants to let me down in person.
Hartleigh Nichols and I were as serious as two kids in high school could’ve been, and I had a few other girlfriends over the years who I really cared about. Then there was Alivia, but I have never felt like this .
Heidi is center ice in my mind. When I get a coffee, I wonder if she always drinks regular or if she gets seasonal specials. There are pumpkin spice lattes in the fall. Is there a spring equivalent? I bet she could make a fun viral video about hockey players and their beverage orders.
When I was in Wisconsin, I picked up souvenirs for Heidi, Bunny, and me. I got us matching Curd Nerd cheese shirts. Then I worried about whether Heidi is allergic to cheese and racked my brain trying to recall the numerous meals I’d had at her family’s table. Did she ever have a special portion sans cheese? No, on taco night, she and Derek argued over whether the cheese goes first or last.
Then I really had to check my head when I saw a bachelorette party at the hotel and wondered what Heidi would look like in a gown. Whether she’d want a traditional wedding since her first one was the opposite or do something more intimate?
My eyes are tired and dry from travel. No other reason. My sugar levels are normal even though I feel jittery. It’s a combination of excitement and nerves because I’m meeting Heidi and Bunny at their morning playgroup at the park.
Surely, she wouldn’t dump me in public?
Then again, she’s a busy single mom, so Bunny would likely be occupied during the “It’s not you, it’s me,” conversation.
I skip putting in my contacts and slide on my glasses, then head over to the same playground Derek and I used to go to before we got too cool for it and realized we could roam around the cornfields and sneak to the woods. My mother didn’t care where I was. Mrs. Rice made sure he checked in every two hours.
Parking next to Heidi’s 4Runner, I prepare myself and make sure I don’t see Derek hiding in the bushes, ready to beat me down. Not that I did anything wrong. Not a thing. But if his sister’s heart is even at risk of being broken, even if she’s the one to end things, I’d expect him to take action—of the physical variety.
The talk with Derek went surprisingly well. I still have all my teeth. I confessed my feelings for Heidi. He put me in a headlock and gave me a “Noogie” with his knuckles on the top of my head and I promised not to break his sister’s heart.
I spot Heidi talking to another mom as they push their kids on the swings. I wave and walk over. Heidi goes still and the swing, on its return, nearly knocks into her.
Bunny calls, “Push, Mama!”
Her throat bobs when I get close.
Anxiety floods my mind, making my stomach swim. We moved too fast. She remembered she doesn’t want to date a hockey player—definitely not one of Derek’s friends after what happened with Trey.
Bunny squeals with delight when she sees me and tosses her hands in the air—she’s in one of those bucket-style swings and totters slightly. “Push me, up, up, up!” She points to the sky.
I round to the back of the swing as Heidi gives her one more push while staring at me. Like s-t-a-r-i-n-g. It’s intense, but not a glower or the daggers from the first day at the Fish Bowl, but there’s no mistaking that she’s acting a little off. My stomach trips.
Her eyes are wide as she continues to stare at me as I take over pushing the swing.
In a low voice she says, “This is next level. I didn’t know you wore glasses.”
Oh. Is this the deal breaker?
“Usually, I have contacts—” But before I finish my sentence, she lifts onto her toes and kisses me on the cheek. Her hands wrap around my neck and if we weren’t in public, I think this would rapidly turn into a make-out session. My nerves disappear. So do my thoughts, my sense of place, the year. Heck, I don’t even know my name and it’s only a peck since this is a family setting.
She introduces me to the other moms as her boyfriend. Even though Bunny doesn’t know what that means, the kid adores me. The feeling is mutual and I haven’t had this much fun at the playground since . . . the last time we were here. Granted, all the children in attendance treat me like a human jungle gym when they realize that I’m all too happy to engage while the moms talk among themselves, with probably some much-needed adult interaction.
A little before lunch, everyone disperses, leaving Heidi, Bunny, and me to walk over to the Lunch Box, a sandwich shop on 4 th St.
Bunny is in her stroller and Heidi keeps stealing glances at me. She’s been acting funny and I start to fear the other shoe, er, skate is going to drop again.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, my voice uneven with nerves.
“Yeah. Fine, why?” she asks breezily as if she’s keeping something from me.
“Just checking.”
She clears her throat and gestures to her eye area and then at my face. “I just didn’t know about that.”
“I think the flight dried out my eyes.” I rub them. “I’ll stick to my contacts if that’s what you prefer.”
She exclaims, “No!”
Bunny whips around. “Mama?”
She gives her daughter’s head a loving pat. “Everything is fine. I was just telling Grady that he shouldn’t wear contacts. It’s bad for my health.”
Satisfied, Bunny turns back around .
“What?” I ask not sure whether to let rip a laugh or be concerned.
“I mean, bad for your health. Probably. Do we even know what contacts are made out of?”
“Hydrogel.”
“Yep. Terrible. Right? I mean, for me. Just wear the glasses,” she speaks in fits and starts like she’s flustered. Her cheeks are red and she can’t stop peeking at me.
My lips ripple with a smirk. “Heidi, if I’m not mistaken, I think you like me wearing glasses.”
“Very much so. I just didn’t know it until I saw it.”
Not going to lie, my ego pumps up a few notches. Who knew Heidi was a glasses girl?
While eating our sandwiches, I tell her about my video idea, featuring hockey players and their coffee orders.
And we are off to the races, er, the social media content creation races. In the next weeks, we do bowling videos with some of the guys, play wiffle ball, a first swim of spring at the lake—it’s frigid—and a blind cookie-taste test courtesy of the Milk Mustache.
Meanwhile, the regular season winds down, and the Knights clinch a playoff spot. We’re slated to receive the President’s Trophy, which means our team played best overall. However, that isn’t a guarantee of anything as we vie for the Stanley Cup.
As much time as I spend at the Ice Palace, whether it’s for workouts, practice, team meetings, or games, I’m in front of the camera nearly as often.
Heidi has become a machine, producing videos of us exiting the locker room, performing silly dances, answering questions, or doing gestures to a trending voiceover.
She has a way of making people, including the other players, feel comfortable on screen. Plus, everything she makes is family-friendly. Having gone from the LA Lions where the material was edgier, she explained that the Knights have a completely different vibe and now that we’re a family, she wants that to come across to potential new fans. She says to always know your audience and, man, does she know her stuff.
The videos with her and Bunny have become the most popular. My account has nearly a million followers, having quadrupled. She says a lot of them aren’t even fans of hockey, but the content is entertaining and things they can share with their kids to laugh, relate, or inspire.
When I swipe through, I realize it’s a scrapbook of these last few weeks of us building a relationship. The best videos are of Heidi smiling and laughing.
But Coach Badaszek is not when he calls me into his office after training.
It’s austere with an imposing oak desk and the force to be reckoned with seated behind it.
“Federer, have a seat,” he orders.
I set my backpack on the floor and lower into the leather chair, preparing for . . . I don’t know what. A pat on the back for the successful “Comeback Campaign?” Scrutiny over my crossovers and edge work? My stomach crimps. Or is this when the other skate is going to drop? When he’s going to confront me about what happened before I was all but kicked off the Pittsburg Generals? Then again, Heidi didn’t break up with me that day at the park, so maybe this will turn out okay, too.
He says, “You’ve done well so far. But there’s something important I want to discuss regarding your suspension.”
My positivity falters with an elevator plunge in my gut, but it’s best not to dance around the subject, so I dive right in—I’ve put some thought into how this was going to unfold. “Yes, sir. I’ve considered whether to come clean with the truth.”
“I’d like to promise you confidentiality. However, there would be some circumstances that I would not be able to keep between you and me.”
“I understand, sir.” I unzip my backpack and remove the hardshell zip case that I keep with me that contains a backup glucometer, batteries, lancets, insulin, basically anything and everything I’d need if something were to go wrong and I couldn’t stick to my usual routine. I also open the app on my phone.
He watches carefully, revealing neither surprise, curiosity, nor condemnation.
“I haven’t been completely honest with you or the NHL organization.” I proceed to tell him about living with Type 1 Diabetes, how it doesn’t affect my game, and that I’m sorry for not informing him or anyone else over the years.
Badaszek nods and is quiet for a long moment. “My wife Katherine had Type 2. I commend you for playing at this level with all the extra things involved. For some people, it can be a lot.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t know much different.” I tell him that I was diagnosed as a kid, so I’ve been living with this most of my life.
His eyes get a focus to them that reminds me of when he’s reading a game—I don’t necessarily aspire to be a coach, but I haven’t only learned things from shadowing Ted Powell.
“You don’t want to be seen as different,” he says in a tone that’s more fatherly than it is the booming and authoritative one he usually uses.
My eyes suddenly burn behind my glasses. “Yes, sir.”
“We have to report this to the team medic. However, I’ll leave it up to you whether anyone else knows.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He nods. “Is there anything else you’d like to tell me? ”
What? That I’m in love with my best friend’s sister? That doesn’t seem like coach conversation content.
“Actually, yes.” Swallowing, but knowing Badaszek will have my back, I come clean about everything that happened with Lucan, my ex, and the performance-enhancing drugs.
He listens carefully, his face neutral, but his nostrils flare a few times in a way that tells me Badaszek values honesty and fairness above all.
“I chose to keep my secret over doing what’s right for the NHL. Again, I’m sorry.” I’m not exactly sure if there will be penalties, but he also knows that I tried to raise this subject with the officials.
“We all make mistakes. I trust that won’t happen again.”
“No, sir. It won’t. You have my word.”
We talk for another minute and then Cara notifies him about a conference call. I get up to leave.
Badaszek calls, “Federer, great job with the video content. I’d tell you to keep it up but know you have help. Arsenault tipped me off. She’d like to hire Rice as the official social media manager if that would work for you.”
While in the office, I haven’t exactly been frowning, but right now I beam a smile. “Really? That would be great. Heidi would love that.”
“Just wanted to make sure it wouldn’t conflict—sometimes people want to keep business and family separate.”
“Oh, we’re not?—”
He arches an eyebrow.
“I mean, she’s not my sister.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“I watched the ‘Take a Chance on Me’ duet. Katherine liked ABBA. The way you looked at her blew up the internet. I thought I was going to have to make you work to get you with the program. This one was surprisingly easy.”
I flash a smile, not sure what he means, but maybe it’s best not to prolong this conversation.
After I talk to Cara for a few minutes and give her Heidi’s contact info, I can’t stop thinking about what Badaszek said about me and Heidi.
There aren’t puck bunnies at games, at least not like for the Generals, and definitely not the fangirls for the Lions or the Carolina Storm. The Knights are family-oriented. Nearly everyone is hitched.
I tip my head in question. Is Coach a covert matchmaker? Is his master plan for his players to have families so he can ensure the next generation of hockey superstars? I give my head a little shake. That’s as outrageous as him Mr. Miyagi-ing me.
Probably.
I laugh out loud, startling a pigeon in the parking lot.
Instead of going back to my house, I head to Silver Queen Street. Even if Heidi isn’t home, I can help Mr. Rice with the Dodge.
It’s a beautiful spring day and even though Vohn put me through my paces training, I wouldn’t mind getting some grease under my nails.
I’m under the truck’s chassis when the scent of jellybeans wafts my way followed by a little girl’s happy giggle. Bunny bounces onto my belly nearly knocking the wind out of me.
“GG, guess who?” Bunny asks.
I play along. “Hmm. Is it a gorilla?”
“No.” She bursts into laughter.
“How about a unicorn?”
“A unee-corn would squish you, GG,” she says.
“Could it be the Easter bunny? ”
“Not yet, but Grammy says the bunny will bring me a bas-kwet.”
I slide out from under the truck and with a tickle at the ready, I say, “If it’s not a gorilla, a unicorn, or the Easter rabbit, it’s BB.”
While Mr. Rice fiddles with the brake line that’s been leaking, Heidi tells me that she and her mom just got back from the store. “After we got party supplies, we went to the market.”
“I help-ted too,” Bunny says very matter of fact.
Heidi kisses her on the head. “You sure did. We wouldn’t have found those marshmallow Peeps without you. We nearly have everything for the Knights’ hashtag monster Peep challenge.”
“I’m not exactly sure what you have in mind but am afraid I’m going to regret this,” I say, taking a few of the bags and noticing the yellow neon fabric in the exact shade of the traditional marshmallow Easter candy along with about a dozen boxes of the stuff.
She lifts onto her toes and pecks me on the cheek. “You can thank Bunny. She gave me the idea and the fans are going to love it.”
That means we’ll be doing another team video soon. Thankfully, the guys have been playing along and no one’s ego has gotten in the way of being a bit goofy.
From the house, comes a shriek. I’ve never seen Mr. Rice move so fast as he hurries toward his wife.
Heidi, Bunny, and I hustle after him. I’m not sure whether to anticipate a mouse—she’s not a fan—or an ax murderer.
“It won’t stop,” Mrs. Rice yells over the rushing sound of water.
Water somehow pours out of the kitchen faucet and from under the sink at the same time.
Mr. Rice hollers. “The water main. ”
There’s already half an inch of water covering the linoleum floor. Bunny splashes her feet in it while Heidi and I try to stem the flow and bail the water into the bathtub down the hall. Mrs. Rice drops towels and whatever linen is available onto the floor.
When Mr. Rice comes back, the water slows to a trickle.
“What happened?”
Fretting, Mrs. Rice says, “I don’t know. I brought in the grocery sacks and the sink was overflowing.”
“I didn’t leave it on after lunch. A pipe must’ve burst,” Mr. Rice says.
While they investigate and call a plumber, I pull out the wet-dry vac and help clean up while Heidi brings Bunny downstairs for her nap. But they’re back moments later, her expression stricken.
“Grandma and Grandpa have a pool.”
They don’t which only means one thing.
“The water leaked through the floor, directly into our living space. On the upside, the mattress absorbed a lot of it.” Heidi drops into a chair.
Taking Bunny, I assure her we’ll get everything figured out.
I spend the next hour cleaning up and am coming up from the basement when heavy footfalls approach.
The plumber’s voice sounds grave. “Sometimes these things fail. Especially in a house this old. Could’ve degraded over the cold winter. You’ll need a full repipe on this level. I can get you an estimate and recommend some contractors to repair the floor and kitchen.”
Mr. and Mrs. Rice exchange a look like a dream they had slipped through their fingers. Then I recall Mr. Rice commenting about their cruise plans and savings.
“I don’t recommend anyone continue to stay downstairs,” the plumber adds.
Mr. Rice nods. “Definitely not. ”
They talk for a few more minutes before the plumber leaves. Heidi and her mom look crushed. Mr. Rice suggests ideas for what they’ll do during the repairs.
I snap my fingers. “You can stay at my place.”
Mrs. Rice’s eyebrows pinch together.
Mr. Rice starts to decline.
Heidi says, “We can’t all live at your house.”
Bunny smiles. “It’s a McDon-doos like MC’s house.”
We break into laughter.
“Do you mean McMansion?” Heidi asks and comments about visiting the Schusters in my neighborhood.
Mrs. Rice says, “Grady, we appreciate the offer, but we’ll stay with Derek.”
“Mom, Deborah is coming home next week for Easter. I, um, think they’d like to finally be newlyweds,” Heidi says. They’ve hardly lived together since getting married since they were both in the military.
“Thank you, son. We’ll discuss this,” Mr. Rice says.
The two of them go to the living room, probably to take a load off, and rest on the couch for a few minutes.
Heidi wraps her arms around me. “Are you sure about this?”
“I can’t think of anything I’d like more than to play house with you,” I whisper.
“We’re not married.”
“Not yet.”
“My parents will be there.”
“It’s the least I can do. If things get a little too cozy, I’ll send them on that cruise they’ve been dreaming about.” I wink.
And that is how the Rices move in with me.
What they say about not being able to pick your family is true, but I found mine.