Chapter 39
Hazy
Hazy, Lover, and Beanie stood side-by-side after the Freeze’s official practice the next day. They threw weighted medicine balls at the wall.
“How are things going with Olivia?” Beanie asked.
A smile touched his lips. “Great,” Hazy said.
Lover abandoned his ball and picked up a heavier one. Hazy groaned, but followed suit, refusing to be outdone.
“You know I’m going to take credit for your happiness for the rest of your life, right?”
Hazy grunted with his next throw. “Yep.”
He would gladly give Lover all the credit. Even though Hazy could have used a simple conversation instead of some elaborate scheme. Without him, Hazy might never have recognized what had been staring him straight in the face for decades.
Beanie, the only sane one amongst them, continued with the same medicine ball, not competing with them. He said, “Not everything has to be a pissing contest.”
“Fuck off,” Lover said.
“Yeah, Beanie. Fuck off. Just because you’re old as shit doesn’t mean we have to prematurely age with you,” Hazy said, even as he regretted his choice to match Lover’s energy.
“You guys are fucking assholes.”
“Shut up, you love us,” Lover said.
“Are you excited to get back on the ice?” Beanie asked.
After his training session Coach informed him that the doctor cleared him to skate the first week of March.
He was shitting his pants over it. For an injury of this magnitude some players ended their careers.
Some took a full season off. He’d been out under six months.
Following every single piece of advice his medical team gave him, and having Livy around to coach him through moments he wanted to quit, made the timeline possible.
He could have told his linemates that yes, he was excited to skate, but in a rare moment of seriousness, he said, “I don’t know.”
Both Lover and Beanie dropped their medicine balls and faced him. He abandoned his own workout equipment and put his back to the wall, sliding down to sit and wiping sweat off his forehead with a towel. The Connors joined him on the floor.
“You can take more time if you need it,” Lover said.
“I don’t need it. My leg is fine.”
“Then what’s the matter?” Beanie asked.
“Nothing. I’m worried I’ll do something stupid and re-injure myself.”
“Then don’t do something stupid,” Lover said.
“Great advice. Thanks,” Hazy replied, smacking him upside the head.
Lover punched him in the arm. “Anytime, bro.”
Beanie said, “I’ve been injured a few times. You’ll be okay. Once you get past the first hit, everything will fall into place.”
“Hey!” Lover said. “You being geriatric is finally paying off for us!”
That earned him another smack upside the head, this time from Beanie.
They joked, but Beanie and Lover’s support did help him.
“You know,” Beanie said. “We aren’t supposed to, but after a long stint on IR, I sometimes skate alone the first time. Before my first practice. It helps get my legs back under me without twenty sets of eyes watching my every step.”
Hazy had no intention of following Beanie’s advice when he first heard it, but on his way out of the rink his phone buzzed.
Dylan
Can you drive Cassie and me to her game tonight? Mom and her dad have work and everyone else has a game.
I’m supposed to go to the game too.
What happens if you don’t?
The little shit had a good point, and an idea popped into Hazy’s head.
Fine. I’ll take you.
He fired off another text to Livy.
Does attending a children’s hockey game count as a date?
Livy
Whoa, Mr. Romance over here.
***
I’ll allow it. Sounds fun.
He pumped a fist and opened his car door. His night just got a lot more fun.
Dylan loaded Cassie’s giant bag of goalie gear into the back of Hazy’s G-Wagon and slammed the rear door. Cassie already sat in the backseat, a true princess.
She scrolled through Dylan’s phone because her dad, Connor (yes, another Connor, half the damn city was named Connor), wouldn’t let her have a smartphone.
Cassie’s phone allowed her to call and text pre-approved numbers, but she got into enough trouble with those functions considering half the Seattle Freeze had cracked the list. She’d been introduced to the team during Hazy and Lover’s second year in the NHL when her uncle Tanner joined the broadcast group as a social media manager.
Dylan happened to be at the rink the same day, and the two became instant friends.
Five years later they remained inseparable, and both of them had an army of hockey players at their beck and call.
She wasn’t allowed to be on socials, but Dylan was, and when Hazy was in charge there were no rules.
He had to do everything he could to maintain his position as her favorite hockey player.
Cassie always claimed Lover was her favorite, but she only said that to annoy him.
Plus, Dylan’s social media algorithm mostly boasted superheroes and video games.
“Hey Cherry Bomb, what’s going on?” Hazy asked in a dopey voice.
He caught her eye in the rearview mirror. Livy gave him a surprised smile and twisted in her seat to look at Cassie.
“Ew, why’d you say it like that?” Cassie asked.
Hazy continued the ridiculous accent. “Because you looovvee it.”
Dylan climbed into the backseat and buckled in. Cassie handed him his phone.
“You keep thinking that, Unc.”
Hazy covered his chest with his hands and pretended to die. Her insult and his reaction to it made Livy giggle.
“Are we ready to go?” Hazy asked when he finished being dramatic.
“Yeah,” Dylan said. They drove for a few minutes, random TikTok sounds playing from Dylan’s phone. Then Dylan yelled, “Oh!”
Hazy jumped. “Jesus, dude! Where’s the danger?”
Dylan laughed. “Sorry, I forgot Cassie and Livy hadn’t met.”
“Only I’m allowed to call her Livy,” Hazy said.
Livy reached over and pinched the underside of his arm. Cassie’s hand reached into the front seat to give Livy an awkward handshake.
“Cassie, Livy. Livy this is Cassie, but at the rink she goes by Cherry Bomb,” Dylan said, ignoring Hazy’s comment altogether.
“Oooh. I like it,” Livy said. “Why do they call you that?”
Dylan snorted. A proud grin spread across Hazy’s face.
“Oh, you’ll see,” he said.
“How do you know Hazy?” Cassie asked.
“We’re best friends. Like you guys,” Livy said.
At the same time, Dylan said, “They’re bumping uglies.”
Silence descended upon the car until Hazy burst out laughing, unable to take it anymore. His face was probably bright red. Livy’s cheeks were splotchy, and a glance in the rearview mirror confirmed both kids were violently blushing as well.
The car erupted into nervous laughter with Hazy, and he had to pull over so he didn’t kill them all. They all giggled until their bellies ached and tears streamed down their faces.
When they’d all had a chance to catch their breath, Hazy pulled into the flow of traffic.
Cassie said, “Huh. You’re way too pretty for him.”
“Wow,” Hazy said. “Shots fired.”
“She’s not wrong,” Dylan said.
Hazy reached across the console to squeeze Livy’s thigh.
“No. She’s not wrong.”
Livy, Dylan, and Hazy watched forty-three minutes of the game before Cassie pulled a move that had earned her the Cherry Bomb nickname.
The little red-headed firecracker had shown massive promise when she’d started playing peewee hockey. She almost hadn’t played because hockey is an expensive-as-fuck sport and she didn’t come from a well-off background.
It took one trial Learn-To-Play game with her as goalie at the practice facility for Hazy and Lover to insist she keep playing.
Her dad refused to accept the scholarship they offered for her admission and gear, so they’d pulled strings with their brand sponsors and got the entire kid’s league outfitted with new equipment.
Making hockey free for disadvantaged kids to play at several facilities around the city was one of Hazy and Lover’s proudest accomplishments as athletes.
While Cassie’s talent had been apparent immediately, her nickname was new.
On the ice, a player from the other team crowded Cassie’s crease.
Cassie cross-checked them. Hard. The player whirled around and slashed her pads with their stick in retaliation.
They sat close enough to see Cassie’s lips move, but they couldn’t hear her.
Hazy knew her well enough to know she’d delivered a brutal chirp.
The kid’s gloves came off. Cassie cross-checked them again. A whistle blew, a ref’s arm flying into the air.
Cassie took a swing at the kid, and one of Cassie’s defensemen blocked her arm, forcibly pulling her out of the scrum. She struggled against her own team members. The audio booth played the Joan Jett song she’d derived her nickname from.
Fighting wasn’t allowed in kid’s leagues, but sometimes gloves got dropped before the refs could interfere. She started shit knowing she wouldn’t have to follow through. A girl after his own heart.
Livy leaped to her feet in a panic. She took a step toward the ice, but Dylan grabbed her hand.
“She’s fine. This is what she does,” he said.
Livy turned an accusatory look at Hazy. “You taught her this.”
Hazy struggled to hide his amusement. “She learned this all by herself.”
The fight on the ice stopped, and one of Cassie’s teammates did the slow skate of shame toward the penalty box. Livy sat again as play resumed.
“Technically,” Dylan said. “She did learn this by herself. By watching Hazy and Lover play.”
“You’re such a menace,” Livy told Hazy.
After Cassie’s game ended, Hazy had her stay on the ice. He changed into his pads and grabbed his and Dylan’s skates from his locker in the rink next door. Then he grabbed another pair from the supply room for Livy.
Hazy helped Livy tie her skates. She’d been skating almost as long as he had. She didn’t need help. But doing it for her was cathartic.
Dylan and Livy took turns shooting on Cassie while he tied his skates.
He hesitated at the entrance to the ice. Some of his favorite people were out there. He could take three strides and be testing the famous Cherry Bomb.
Livy caught his eye, and he smiled, trying to seem thrilled. She saw through his bullshit.
She skated to him and held out her hands, and his nerves settled. He’d done this for other people a million times. Held their hands steady and skated backwards so they could build confidence.
He let Livy pull him onto the ice. She skated beautifully, guiding him to the center of the rink. By the time they made it, most of his anxiety had faded and muscle memory took over. He retrieved the stick Livy abandoned and fired a few soft shots at Cassie.
She stopped most of them, and Livy whooped in celebration for her, chanting “Cher-ry, Cher-ry, Cher-ry.”
They skated and laughed together for a few minutes.
Hazy asked everyone to race, and they sprinted from one goal line to the other.
He used to let Dylan and Cassie win, but as they’d gotten older, he skated a hair ahead of them, pushing them to their limits.
In a few years, Cassie might be able to beat him.
Out of breath and full of joy, Hazy needed one more thing before he could feel confident going into practice the next week.
“Okay, Little Bomb,” he said. “It’s your time to shine.”
Cassie cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah?” she asked.
“I need a favor.”
“Too bad,” she said.
Livy laughed, and Cassie pointed at her.
“Ask your girlfriend for a favor.”
“I’m not allowed to call her my girlfriend yet,” Hazy said.
“Ooh,” Dylan taunted. “Haven’t met expectations, huh?”
Hazy flipped him off.
Livy blushed.
“Maybe tomorrow?” Hazy asked, shamelessly.
She gave him a death glare, and Cassie asked, “What’s tomorrow?”
“Nothing!” Hazy and Livy said together.
The kids wore twin looks of confusion, but Hazy wouldn’t traumatize them twice in one night.
“Bomb Pop. It can’t be Livy. I need you.”
Cassie gave a dramatic sigh.
“Fine. What do you want?”
“Don’t worry,” Hazy said. “It’ll be fun. I need you to check me.”
“Check you.”
“Yeah. As hard as you can.”
Livy and Dylan talked over each other.
“Horrible idea,” Dylan said.
“You’re like twice her size, Connor,” Livy said.
He waved away their concerns. Cassie would be fine in full goalie gear.
“Hell yeah!” Cassie said.
Hazy waited close to the boards. Cassie skated at him, full speed, as Livy and Dylan watched on in horror.
She hit him hard into the glass and bounced off, laughing.
He laughed too. It was exactly what he needed.
She weighed basically nothing, so the hit barely registered, but it still gave him confidence he could handle more.
“One more. Open ice,” he said.
He stood on one of the face-off dots and braced himself as Cassie charged at him, fearless. She knocked him on his ass, toppling over on top of him.
Dylan and Livy gasped, but Cassie and Hazy were fine. They lay in a pile for a few seconds before clambering to their feet.
“Nice hit, kid,” Hazy said.
“I learned from the best,” she said.
“Aww, that’s sweet,” he gushed.
“Why?” Cassie asked. “I was talking about Lover.”
“Fuck off,” he told her, ruffling her sweaty hair when she took her mask off.
Dylan and Livy led the way off the ice. Connor did one final lap by himself, as fast as he could. The familiar rush of accomplishment and determination he got from being on-ice settled in his chest, and with that he knew he was ready to get back to work.