Chapter 8
MARCUS
“It’s the blue fur, wasn’t it…?” Kenneth Salas joked as he whizzed past him with the puck.
“Yo… our boy has a Muppets fetish,” Barrett Coeur drew out slowly, followed by a whistle. “Unbelievable.”
“Our boy is bangin’ the mascot – and she’s super hot - but don’t tell Karen I said that,” Jett Acton hollered across the ice, giving him two thumbs-up as he dropped his gloves and stick wildly.
Marcus expected laughter, a few jabs, or to become the butt of their jokes, but instead, the opposite happened.
The jokes were suddenly over.
The air was cleared.
Every player on the team stopped skating as the coach stood there, smiling.
Gloves dropped. Sticks clattered to the ice.
The puck slowed to a crawl. The guys who weren’t on the ice slowly joined the rest of the team as a slow clap began among them, led by Acton, Boucher, and Savage standing near where Marcus stood, stunned.
“You knew…” Marcus breathed in awareness. “You all knew and didn’t say a thing?”
“It came up in a meeting,” Savage admitted quietly. “I told Coach Starnes you were worth keeping regardless of it – and he agreed.”
“But… but…”
“But now you fit right in, homeboy,” Jett exclaimed, holding up his own hand, brandishing his own golden band.
“I never thought you had it in you, but when you walked in here all giggly and glowing – I said to myself, ‘Self, that is a happily married man who got some’ – and I’m so freakin’ proud of you for bangin’ our mascot, Good-Boy… ”
“We’re not naming the mascot that, Jett,” Coach Starnes interrupted as several players began laughing and patting Marcus on the back. “You know the official name is ‘Henri the Wolverine’.”
“Henri is a dumb name – a weak, wimpy, French name,” Jett argued. “He needs a tough name…”
“Like ‘Good-Boy’?” Salas said in a flat voice, raising an eyebrow.
“Nah, but ‘Good-Boy’ is better than ‘Tickle-Me-Blue-Elmo’… makes me think of the single life and I’m never going back to dealing with blue…”
“JETT!” Savage interrupted pointedly before chuckling. “Shut up – please – for all of our sakes, just don’t finish that sentence and shut up, buddy.”
“Shutting,” Jett shrugged – and then winked at Marcus. “How about we call the mascot ‘Harper’ after his wife?”
“I like it…”
“I’m happy.”
“That’s perfect…”
“Sounds good to me…”
A flurry of voices surrounded him – and Marcus turned slowly to look at Harper, who was sitting in the stands, watching them practice for the game tomorrow night.
Her eyes were glistening, her soft pink cheeks had tears on them that he could see from here.
She was staring at him with so much pride, love, and admiration that it wasn’t hard to guess her thoughts.
No, the more time he spent with Harper, he discovered how easy it was to read her expressions, interpret her sighs, and relish in the simple things that seemed to make her happy. She looked at him like he hung the moon and stars for her – and for those looks alone?
He would do so.
Marcus never wanted to see that light, that admiration, that look of longing, to ever disappear from her eyes…
and maybe that was what pushed him to cross those lines he never imagined – and never regretted.
The wedding night he never planned on had been a thing of beauty.
They whispered in the dark, talked to each other, left all their worries, thoughts, and fears behind, drawing focus on the other person with a blind faith that was humbling.
Nothing would be the same – and they both knew it without saying.
“But, somebody already announced in the news that it was Henri the Wolverine…”
“Change it,” Marcus interrupted, not looking away from her. “Harper is a much, much better name – and you can tell them that it was requested by one of the team… for his beloved wife.”
Her pretty pink lips parted as her eyes widened – only for her to cover her face a moment later, crying. She was crying, and her tender heart was overwhelmed. She’d cried happy tears as they made love and he’d kissed them away… and felt the urge to do so now too.
A hand landed on his shoulder.
Marcus looked up and saw Kenneth Salas standing there, smirking. “Go,” he said simply in a hushed voice. “My wife, Jamie, is probably foaming at the mouth for a photo of the two of you, and she’ll blast it all over social media. Go to your wife – and congratulations, brother.”
As Marcus skated toward Harper in the distance, intent on kissing her until she smiled at him and melted in his arms… he heard a voice behind him.
Acton.
“Oh no… my pinky toe hurts, Coach!”
Several chuckles were in the distance just as he reached Harper, drawing her into his arms, pulling her hands from her face, and capturing her lips.
“I’m sensitive, you know… and my poor widdle toe has an ouchy. Let’s make Marcus start tomorrow with the big boys and give him a shot on the ice,” Acton was saying loud enough for everyone to hear him – including Marcus.
His lips parted from Harper’s as her lovely eyes opened to meet his – and she smiled.
“You’re getting your chance,” she breathed. “You’re going to start, Marcus…”
Yes, he was going to get his shot to play, to get seen on the ice, to start the game with the ‘elite seven’, um, six if Acton sat out at the beginning – but it didn’t seem as important now.
He loved hockey, he craved the spotlight, he yearned for the attention…
but all of that seemed to eclipse and fade away every time Harper looked at him like this.
She looked at him like he was the only man in the world for her – and to him, that was everything.
“Sweetheart,” he whispered back tenderly, cupping her face as he brushed a thumb across the soft skin of her cheek. “The only chance that ever mattered was when I said ‘I do’ to you…”
It was true.
This was his chance at happiness – and Marcus had scored big when he married her, the temporary mascot of the Wolverines.
Harper.