serious.” She held up the paper. “This is legit? We’re really going to meet Jase Kelly?”
I nodded. “I don’t know how many other players will show up, but he promised me like ten times that he will absolutely be there.”
“Oh my God.” She went quiet for a moment, then softly asked, “Do, um… do you know how many people will be there? Besides players, I mean?”
“All I know is it’ll be a small crowd,” I said. “Like, a really small crowd. It’s probably one of those low-key events like the one at the collectibles shop last year.”
Dallas exhaled with obvious relief. We’d tried to go to signing events before, but they’d almost always ended up being too loud and crowded for her, or some asshat would wear a strong fragrance (who the fuck wore perfume to a hockey event and why did they always end up near us?). We’d gotten lucky last year with a shop that had booked a couple of the newer players on a day that coincided with some other event, so only about a hundred people had come. That had still been rough for Dallas—mostly from the crush of everyone trying to get into the shop at once—but she’d made it through and met the players without much incident.
But that had been a fluke. All the other events were huge, packed, and loud. Even open practices had ended badly for her enough times that we didn’t try anymore. No matter how much she wanted to meet her favorite players, especially Jase Kelly, it wasn’t worth the inevitable aftermath. Her doctors were still trying (as much as my shit insurance allowed, anyway) to find the right medication and dosage so she could get through situations like that without triggering an episode, but so far, not much luck. Her current meds were better than nothing and could sometimes stave off the migraine before it really got started, but not enough for her to attend things like concerts or hockey games. It was entirely possible she’d never be able to go to either.
Leading up to this evening, Jase had asked tons of questions about what triggered her migraines, and he’d reassured me time and again that he’d make sure tonight wouldn’t be too much for her. One of his teammates’ wives was prone to migraines with similar triggers, so he’d consulted with her too.
I promise, he’d written this afternoon, we’ll make sure she has fun and doesn’t wind up in pain.
Fortunately, even though stress was a trigger for Dallas, this kind of stress—excitement—didn’t bother her. She’d take one of her meds before we left, and I’d keep my fingers crossed that Jase and I really had covered all our bases for this evening.
Just let her enjoy the event and meet her hero this one time.
That isn’t asking too much, is it?
There was no game tonight, so the stadium parking lot was deserted. I had literally never imagined parking this close to the front door. Especially not for two bucks.
“Will he think we’re dorks since we’re both wearing Kelly jerseys?” Dallas asked on the way in.
“Is that going to stop us from wearing them?”
She giggled. “Nope. Not at all.”
I chuckled as we kept walking. Money was tight, but Dallas’s mom, stepdad, and I had scraped together enough to buy her one of the special edition Jase Kelly jerseys during last season’s playoffs. She rarely wore it because she didn’t want to ruin it, but she had it on tonight. I had on my regular season jersey. Yeah, maybe we looked like dorks, going to meet the man while we were both wearing his jerseys, but the jig was already up—he knew we were both big fans.
“This place looks weird when it’s empty,” Dallas mused as we walked toward the arena doors.
“It really does.” I pushed open the door. “It’s much quieter, though.”
“So much quieter.”
Inside the cavernous lobby, which was usually teeming with people in royal blue and white on game nights, a man in a suit started toward us, extending his hand. “Mr. McKenzie?”
“Uh, yes?” I shook his hand.
“It’s just a formality,” he said, almost apologetically, “but can I confirm that with an identification?”
I took out my wallet and showed him my driver’s license.
“Perfect.” The man smiled. “I’m Richard, and I’ll be taking you to your event. And this must be our birthday girl, Dallas?”
Nodding, my daughter shyly returned the smile.
“Well, happy birthday. And you’re right on time.” Richard motioned in the direction he’d come from. “If you’ll follow me,