tonight?”
“Yeah.” Now that I have a plan. Now that I have something to do instead of sitting around waiting and worried. “Yeah, I can play tonight.”
“Good. Then see that you do it and keep a check on the penalties.”
That easily, I gulp in a deep breath. It feels like I can breathe for the first time since New Year’s. “Thank you, Coach.”
Jason’s hand settles on my shoulder and squeezes. I close my eyes for a minute to fight back showing them more than I want them to see. When I have a lock on it, I open my eyes and meet Coach’s gaze.
“You take all the time you need, son. We got this. Just make sure you come back ready to get us where we want to be.”
“Yes, sir.” I reach out, clasp my hand in his and he yanks me forward until I’m in a half hug, half back slap with him.
“You’re good people, Sebastian. So is Madison. Beautiful too. Hope this trip gives you what you need.”
I nod and squeeze his hand tighter but can’t find the words to express how much this means to me. I’ve got a game to play. A schedule to change with Tessa, and a wife to go see.
When I pull back, I head out of the office with Jason who’s already got his phone in his hand. “I’ll call Tessa. Tell her what you need. You go do what you need to get ready.”
“Thanks, Jason.”
“You’d do the same for me.”
He eyes me with all seriousness and that burn I felt earlier returns.
“I know. I would. Still, thanks.”
“Nothing at all, brother. Nothing at all.”
He takes off, phone to his ear, out of the locker room so he can have privacy, and I follow until I run into Newman and Conan and Chauncy out in the hall in a circle, juggling a soccer ball between the three of them. As soon as it catches air, I jump in, tap it to Newman and for the rest of our warm-up time, I hang with my guys.
My brothers.
My family outside my blood. For the first time in weeks, I actually believe everything might be okay, even if Madison and I aren’t.
“I was wondering when we’d see you.”
My mom’s hug is warm and tough, and I fall into it easily. I might be almost thirty years old, but there never has been and never will be, anything better than my mom’s hug.
“Thanks, Mom. Dad sleeping?”
It’s practically the middle of the night, and he’s always been an early to bed early to rise kind of man. I’m not surprised Mom waited up for me when I called her after the game to let her know I was headed home. It’s way too late to see Madison, so I’ll do it first thing tomorrow.
“He is.” She pulls back from the hug and places her palms at my cheeks. At barely five foot four, she has to tilt her head back to look at me. “You doing okay? Saw Madison’s parents at church a few weeks ago. Said she was home for a bit.”
“Yeah. She’s home. Been here since before Christmas.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I was thinking she’d come back at some point.” How utterly stupid of me.
“Oh honey.” She pats my cheek with one hand and steps back so I can finally enter my childhood home. When I made it in professional hockey, I tried to get Mom and Dad to let me buy them a new home. Somewhere with space for all of us when we come back and for my sister’s kids. When we’re all home, it’s a crush to be in their modest split-level home, but they always resisted.
Now, groggy and exhausted and thinking of only tomorrow and what in the hell I’ll say to Madison, there’s comfort in seeing my childhood school pictures lining the short stairway down to my room and their rec room. Upstairs is the kitchen, living room, and three bedrooms. Downstairs has always been mine with my own bedroom, full bath, and a room that had been large enough for me to run around and be a boy. All my youth and high school hockey trophies still fill the shelves.
“I’m beat, Mom. We’ll talk in the morning, k?”
“You bet. It’s good to see you, though. Despite everything. And Dad wanted me to tell you good game tonight.”
“Thanks.” Somehow, I’d been able to focus. Scored a goal and stole a few passes from Pittsburgh in our win, we didn’t clinch until the