Page 13 of Power Play

five

. . .

Al

Tonight is our home opener, and there’s nothing like it. This is my fifth season in the league, my fourth starting in the NHL, and I still get jitters every year when the season officially kicks off. We’ve been in prep mode for a few weeks already, so I’ve got my legs back, and I’m itching to get on the ice and play for real.

This is my second year with the Grizzlies. After Arizona traded me last summer, I inked a new seven-year deal with my hometown team. I grew up coming to these games, wishing one day I could skate on this ice. The awe I felt when I pulled on the script Boston jersey for the first time… it was all my childhood dreams come true.

And every day, I get to go to work and live my dream.

MacGregor, our new captain, nods at me as I enter the dressing room. His shocking red hair is rumpled, like he’s been running his fingers through it. He’s started growing a beard lately, but right now it’s still in the patchy, scraggly phase. For his sake, I hope it grows in better soon.

“Morning.” I drop my bag in my cubby.

“You ready for this?” he asks.

My stomach twists. Does he know? Did Vanessa tell him? Anxiety swirls in my belly while I look around the dressing room, but nobody is paying attention to us.

I don’t want to hide Emmy. I refuse to pretend she doesn’t exist. But how do I tell people about her? How do I explain her sudden appearance in my life?

A few of these players have kids. Maybe I should arrange for the wives to meet Riley. Aside from Larsson’s kid, Easton has two under three, Henry has a newborn, Lewis’s wife is due any day now, and Amelia, our physical therapist, has a niece who recently turned one. I never thought I’d be invited to a baby’s first birthday party, but her brother is part of our extended family, so his kid is, too.

McKittrick, our former captain turned player-development coach, enters the dressing room. He’s already in his skates, though now he’s wearing a team quarter-zip and athletic pants rather than full hockey gear.

“Hey, Cap,” MacGregor says, offering his fist for a bump.

McKittrick laughs. “That’s you now.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

More guys filter into the dressing room and start stripping down for practice. Nick Mitchell, the newest player to join our team, gives me a nod as he takes his place at the cubby beside mine. He’s a veteran in the league and a lethal goal scorer. I still don’t know what New Orleans was thinking, letting him walk in free agency. At least he’s on our team now, rather than playing against us.

Coach Turner has been messing with the lines, trying to find the best on-ice chemistry. There’s always a bit of turnover at the start of every season—that’s part of the game. Easton moved up to the first line, playing with MacGregor and Larsson, leaving Mitchell to center me and Jenkins. But it does mean we need to work a little harder to gel as a line and find our groove. Hopefully, it won’t be long until we’re able to predict where the others are on the ice, until our connection becomes near-telepathic. We had that last season, and I’m confident we can find it again.

“You ready for this?” the new guy asks, pulling on his gear.

I go to answer him, but somehow, what comes out of my mouth is: “I have a kid.”

The room goes silent.

“Uh, what?” Logan asks.

“I have a baby.”

Mitchell cocks his head. “Is this news?”

“Yeah. I found out yesterday.” My heart threatens to pound itself right out of my chest.

“Like… your girlfriend is knocked up?”

“No, like a woman showed up on my doorstep with a baby.” A loud thump sounds as I fall back against my cubby, collapsing into an awkward heap. “I have a kid now. She’s six months old.”

MacGregor frowns. “Are you sure she’s yours?”

I don’t blame him for being concerned; I was, too. If it were any of my teammates in my situation, I’d be the first to stand beside them. But now that I know Emmy’s my kid, I won’t let anyone doubt the truth.

“We did a paternity test, and the lab expedited the results. She’s mine.”