Page 32 of Checking from Behind

She was quiet as her fingers traced idle patterns on my chest.

"I'm glad it did." She said.

I pulled her close and closed my eyes as I placed a kiss on her head again.

"So am I."

CHAPTER TWELVE

LILLAH

The hockey crowd differed completely from the baseball crowd. I used to watch Brett from the seats behind the dugout, surrounded by the other players' girlfriends. The conversation flowed from off-season vacations to engagement rings while their partners threw crazy fastballs only a hundred feet away. The women dressed in expensive outfits and bragged about their VIP parking privileges. You had to make sure you smiled when the camera panned the stands, and if asked, you never had an opinion about the game.

Hockey was so much different.

The arena was noisy, and the energy hit me the moment I entered. Music pumped through the speakers, and the noise from the crowd made your chest vibrate. Cold air drifted from the ice and made me shiver even with my jacket on.

The team box was behind glass on the upper level with a clear view of the entire rink. Each of the women in there dressed in jeans and team hoodies or wore their man's jersey. I looked around, taking in the energy, and understood why people loved this game.

The game was fast. Players moved across the ice, and the puck was nothing more than a black streak that I could barely follow. It was there one moment and gone the next. I don't even want to talk about the collisions. I could almost feel every full-body impact through the glass, the deep thudding sound of bodies colliding at speeds that were unimaginable. With each impact came the sound of a grunt or groan, and I flinched at every single one of them.

Marshall was number nineteen, and he looked different on the ice than he did in person. This version of him was fast, focused, and in his element. He was built for this, and watching him stirred something new in me. Pride, or perhaps fear.

"First time at a game?"

I turned to see a woman close to my age sitting next to me. She had a friendly smile and was wearing an Enforcers jersey over a white turtleneck. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, and she extended her hand.

"Tara Keller. My husband is Matt, the team's backup goalie."

"Lillah Parker." I said, shaking her hand. "I'm…"

I hesitated. I didn't know what I was. Was I his neighbor? Friend? He'd left my bed at five this morning to head to practice, and he'd sent me a photo of his breakfast.

"I'm here for Marshall Hayes."

Tara smiled. "The rookie. He is having one hell of a season." She said, leaning closer then dropping her voice to almost a whisper. "Fair warning, most of us have been doing this for a few years so we all know the drill, but for you newbies I only think it's fair to give you a warning. The game is loud, the boys are much louder, and when the Enforcers score everyone in this box hugs. Personal space does not exist, especially during goals."

"Good to know." I said, laughing.

"If you have questions about what is happening on the ice, ask me. I know more about hockey than most of the coaching staff. If you need a drink or popcorn, ask me and I know where they hide the good wine."

Margo, the wife of one of the assistant coaches, welcomed me. "Glad you are here." She said, holding her hand out for me to shake.

These women were far from being the baseball girlfriends and wives. While those women had been nice, their niceness was always conditional. These women talked to me as if they wanted to get to know me, not as if they were assessing me.

"It's a different life." Tara said, letting out a sigh as the arena lights flickered and the pregame show started. "You'll quickly learn that the travel is brutal. He'll be gone for three or four days at a time, sometimes more. Those are the long stretches. So while their schedule is insane from October until April, if they make the playoffs, they are gone until June. The injuries will scare you, and you'll learn to read his body language when he comes off the ice. Sometimes you'll know before he tells you whether there is something wrong. Oh, and the media attention can get weird, especially if you are dating one of the good-looking ones. Which you are." She winked.

"Oh, we're not…" I began, but the horn sounded, and then the puck dropped, and everything I was about to say ceased as the crowd roared.

The first period was a blur. The Enforcers were playing Vegas, and both teams were fast. Marshall was on the second line tonight, and every time he jumped over the boards onto the ice, my body tensed.

He took two hits in the first period. The first was along the boards when their defensemen drove him into the glass with his shoulder. The second was on open ice when he collided with another player, which sent him flying. He got right up both times without hesitating, his face expressionless.

I never understood the physical toll of what he did until I saw those hits. His body took the punishment, but each time he got up and kept moving, giving himself little time to feel anything.

They scored in the second period. Ashford took a wrist shot and Marshall assisted, and the second the puck hit the net, the goal light went red. The crowd went wild, and Tara threw her arms around me and yelled, "Yes!" in my ear.

By the third period, I was standing with everyone else. The game was tied and the tension in the arena was close to unbearable. Marshall was on the ice, my eyes glued to him. There was forty seconds left of the period and the puck was loose in the neutral zone. Marshall got to it first, drove wide around their defensemen and fired a shot that went right over the goalie's glove and into the net.