The Hot Mess and the Heartthrob(79)

“I don’t think he’s going to get another word in,” I whisper.

“Trust me, he’s quite content with not being the one doing the talking.”

“This is making her entire life.”

“That’s why they do it. My dad played pro hockey. My brother plays pro hockey. My husband plays pro hockey.” She slides me a sly grin. “He’s the one talking to your daughter.”

If there’s anything that I’ve learned since Levi Wilson walked into my life, it’s that no matter how wide my eyes go, they still won’t fall out of my head. “Oh.”

“I also work in the Thrusters front office. I know all of these guys. It’s not in the exact same ballpark as touring the world and playing sold-out stadiums, but I’ve seen fame all my life. Famous people can do the normal things for friends and family, and they do. But they’re always driven to more. It’s in their DNA. And they don’t do what you think are the big things to show off or to impress you. At least, I don’t think this particular concerned citizen did. It’s more that when you have the means to make people’s dreams come true, there’s a responsibility to do it when you can. To share their privileges. Honestly, we feel bad this was the only weekend in the rest of your season when we could make it happen, because we know there are a lot of kids missing today. But trust me—Ares would not have said yes in any other set of circumstances, and if he hadn’t said yes, none of the rest of the guys would be here right now either.”

I don’t ask what circumstances. I can guess what Levi said.

“Can you tell Ares thank you for talking about his hearing when he was little? She reads that interview he did in Sports Illustrated every single day.”

Felicity smiles, huge smiles, and I realize I missed how pretty she is. Her baby gurgles and smiles back at her and reaches for her hair. “I don’t like to use I told you so often—with Ares, I mean, because he usually doesn’t need it—but I’ll make sure he hears that his brilliant wife was right that his story would help other kids who’ve been there.”

I swear he cuts his eyes to us at that exact moment like he did, indeed, hear what she said.

Felicity grins.

He shakes his head and goes back to listening to Piper.

Our coach skates over next to us and reaches out a hand to Felicity. “Sorry for thinking you were prank calling. I didn’t even tell the parents you were coming because I didn’t want their kids disappointed if—anyway. Thank you. This is awesome. Even if I’ve done a little cursing at Murphy this year.”

She laughs.

Cackles, really. “He’s getting old. Good thing we have Klein.”

And now our coach goes pink. “You’re—you’re Murphy’s sister, aren’t you?”

“Don’t worry. I tell him every day that I heard someone say the same. He won’t know it was you.”

“Can I get your autograph? My wife didn’t watch hockey until you joined the announcer booth. She’s a huge fan.”

I have no idea what’s going on, but clearly, Felicity is a bigger deal than she’s making herself out to be, and she doesn’t stop with signing an autograph for the coach.

She also slides him a massive manila envelope and says the magic words. “Tickets for all of you. For a few games, actually. Give me a call and let me know which one you’d like to do the Little Skaters game between periods.”

My brain mentally goes to one more thing to add to the calendar, and shame washes through me.

Piper’s going to get to skate on the ice at Mink Arena where her idols play.

I hope she someday appreciates just how monumental this is.

In the meantime, I have something in my eye again.

“Mom! Mom! Come take video!” Piper races to the boards. “Ares is going to show me how to do a killer wrist shot!”

All of us parents venture out onto the ice to get close-ups of the hockey guys with our kids. Practice runs long, but not by much, and before the players leave, they pose for group pictures with our scrappy little team. As the rest of the guys start heading off the ice, Ares bumps helmets with Piper. “Play good.”

“I’m gonna kick butt!”

He rises, covers her helmet with his massive gloved hand like he’s ruffling her hair, then nods to me.

I nod back. “Thank you.”

“Boy Band Levi likes you.” He smirks, and then he’s gone, bringing up the rear as the Thrusters file off the ice.

“Mom. Mom. Oh my gosh, Mom. Mom. Mom, that was Ares Berger.”

“I touched Tyler Jaeger,” another mom next to me whispers.

“I got a picture with Duncan Lavoie.”

“I can’t believe they knew about our team.”

“Nick Murphy signed my purse. It was all I had that I could think to ask him for.”

“Okay, I wasn’t paying attention to Applebottom since they traded for him—because really, how do you replace Zeus?—but did you see how gorgeous he is up close?”

The tears catch me off-guard. Again.

I know where they’re coming from.

Gratitude.

Levi did this. He arranged for the practice of these kids’ lives and gave all their parents a thrill too.

He won’t take credit for it.