I don’t want to count a win before it happens, but it’s hard to believe we won’t clinch the series in game four when we’re playing in our own arena. The way we’ve been communicating, scoring, our goaltending. Home-ice advantage. In my gut, it’s going to happen with a series sweep. I know it.
Home games were a disadvantage to me only months ago, being in this building and knowing I didn’t have anyone here for me. On the road, at least I knew no one else had their fan base cheering them on or waiting for them to come out of the locker room. But here, it’s a constant reminder that I’m alone.
That is until Stevie started coming to watch me play earlier this season. Knowing she was in the crowd or hiding away, waiting for me to come out suited up after our games, did something to my confidence. I had someone to play for that wasn’t just me. The boost I got from being the hated visitor was nothing compared to the love I felt at home games with my person.
But I’m alone again. The ticket I left for Stevie never got picked up, and the only family here for me isn’t mine at all. It’s Maddison’s.
I close Coach’s office door behind me before making my way back to my locker stall.
“Everything good?” Maddison asks from the locker next to mine.
“Yeah, but I’m not going to be at practice tomorrow. I got the okay to skip.”
“Zee, we’re one game away from potentially winning it all. What the fuck do you mean you won’t be at practice tomorrow?”
I dump my used jersey into the bin sitting in the center of the locker room before leaving my skates in my stall to get sharpened.
“I have something more important I need to do.” Finally, I make eye contact with my best friend, as he stares at me dumbfounded. “Trust me. It’s going to prepare me for this game more than any practice ever could.”
The drive back to my hometown takes just over two hours from Chicago. I’ve lived only two hours away for the last six years yet have only made the drive twice in all that time. Once was for Lindsey’s birthday, and another was when my dad hurt his back on the job and wound up in the hospital.
Two hours away may as well have been a hundred. It didn’t matter if I was just down the street or across the country. I was too angry to come back here. I was too angry to see him.
That misplaced anger has kept me from a relationship with my dad for twelve years, but allowing Stevie into my life opened a part of me I had shut off for far too long. I crave love in my life again. As scary as it’s been to realize that’s what she was offering me, I know deep down, it’s true. Stevie loves me—loved me—and I’ve been so afraid of allowing anyone to love me that I pushed her away. I pushed my dad away too.
I went by the house first, but his truck wasn’t in the driveway. It didn’t take long for me to drive around my tiny hometown until I found it parked in the lot of the only sports bar in town. My dad doesn’t even drink, but he’s big into shooting pool, so I’m not too surprised to find him here after work.
The last time I talked to my dad, Stevie was with me, and I wish she were here again. The weeks without her have revealed how deeply she was embedded into every part of my life. Everything was better, easier, more fulfilled with her, but I didn’t notice at the time because she infiltrated my life so flawlessly. I guess I always needed her to fill the gaps but didn’t notice they were hollow until she was gone.
Locking up my car, I head inside. I don’t even try to hide or keep my head low as I enter. This town is small. I made it big in the NHL. Everyone knows who I am, yet it’s not like the fanfare I receive in Chicago. Here, people are just proud of me.
The small run-down bar quiets as I enter, not that it was all that loud to begin with. Less than twenty patrons are inside, and almost all their eyes are on me. I stand out most everywhere I go, but here, in my hometown, my Tom Ford pants, Balenciaga sweater, and Louboutins may as well be a flashing neon sign.
“Well, look who it is,” the bartender announces to the hushed bar. “Mr. NHL himself gracing us with his presence.” He bows dramatically. “To what do we owe this honor?”
“Good to see you, Jason,” I laugh while knocking fists with my old high school teammate as he stands behind the bar. “Is my dad here?”
“Pool table.” He nods towards it.
I head in that direction before I hear him yell from behind me, “You winning us the Cup tomorrow or what?”
Turning around, I face him, wearing a knowing smile. “Planning on it.”