Charming as Puck(88)

“I’ll go,” Muffy tells me.

“I had no doubt.”

We dive back into our food, and Muffy starts telling a story about a new client who asked to be set up with only women who have honey brown hair. Nick texts me when they land in Florida, complete with a much happier selfie—I would be too if I were walking on the beach—and by the end of the night, I’m feeling normal again.

Normal, happy, and optimistic.

Nick loves me.

He does.

He’s just not ready for the words yet.

So long as he keeps showing me, everything’s going to be fine.





Forty-Six





Nick



I walk into Mink Arena Thursday night with my phone pressed to my ear. “You’re coming?” I say for the fifteenth time.

I thought playing New York was tough. I thought the Badgers were tough.

But we’re up against the Indies tonight, and those fuckers have only lost three games all season.

They’re the team we have to fucking own if we have any shot at making it through the playoffs to the championship again this year.

“I promise,” Kami says, and my lungs once again even out.

Since she took me back, I’ve been on fire. Haven’t let anyone score more than two goals on me in a single game, and that only happened once. Lavoie was right.

Having my personal life squared away makes me play a hell of a lot better.

And it’s Kami.

She says she’ll be here, she’ll be here. “Good,” I say, “because I know how much you love watching my sexy body in all those pads.”

Her laughter eases more tension. “You are such a goober. Go get ready to kick some Indies ass. I’ll wait for you after the game, okay?”

“Deal.”

The dressing room is tense.

Yeah, it’s a regular season game, but it’s the regular season game. Our test to see if we have what it takes to be champions again.

There aren’t any pranks tonight. No friendly insults flying around the halls. Just focused concentration.

Lavoie redoes his skates three times, like his routine’s off. I shaved right before getting in my Jeep to come to the arena. Sokolov and Jaeger’s Pokémon card trade is silent, and they’re both scowling. Even Frey, who’s always smiling, is grim.

Zeus is pacing.

Only Ares is his normal zen self.

“Joey’s coming,” Zeus says to his twin. “I tell you that?”

Ares nods and continues methodically wrapping his ankles.

“She wasn’t going to,” Zeus adds. “But…”

He doesn’t finish, but he doesn’t have to.

We all play better when our loved ones are cheering us on.

Even Jaeger, when his parents came in. Frey, too, on the rare occasion his father and the queen make a trip over, and he’s never off his game, even when we’re on the road halfway across the country from Gracie and the baby.

Ares finishes his ankles. Once a trainer checks them, he circles the room.

He’s the calming presence we all need. Big, quiet, broadcasting this is what we train for, fuckers to all of us without saying a word. A bunch of us weren’t sure what management was thinking when they gave up two guys to Chicago for just Ares in return before last season started, but I get it now.

He’s steady. He’s dedicated. And he’s the heart and soul we needed to win the Cup last year.

“You got this, Murphy,” he tells me.

“Damn fucking right.”

Fuck, I hope he’s right. We have the Berger twins, but Indianapolis has the Kingsley twins. Johnson, their goaltender, is a fucking beast. And Cranford, their enforcer, knocked Jaeger out cold to earn himself a month-long suspension after the first playoff game last season.

He’s barely back.

This will be ugly.

I check my phone just before we have to put them away. No messages from Kami, so I send her a selfie of me making duck lips. This is my “I’m going to kick ass for you tonight” face.

I picture her cracking up when she sees it—I love that she doesn’t take my ego seriously—and then I get in my zone.

It’s hockey time.

Still, when I reach the ice under the roar of the crowd with the spotlights flashing and the announcer crooning to psych Indianapolis out, I immediately look for Kami. She should be next to the penalty box tonight, second row because none of the resellers had first row tickets for this game left by the time I had the genius idea to buy her all the tickets.

But where Kami and some of her friends should be, all I see are four empty seats.

Sweat dribbles down between my shoulder blades.

I’ll be there, she said.

Probably stuck in traffic.

The game tonight’s a sell-out, because it’s Indianapolis, and everyone in the entire state wants to heckle Cranford for that sucker punch to Jaeger last year.

“Watch Jaeger’s back,” I tell Zeus when he circles the net. “Fuck, watch all their backs.”

He gives me a two-fingered salute. “Three steps ahead of you, Murphy. You just stop those pucks.”

I glance at Kami’s empty seats again. Come on, come on, come on…

But she doesn’t show up in the first period.