by Erin Leigh
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Dry Toast
Brady
The trainer has us running bleachers with burpees at the top and push-ups at the bottom. I’ve already picked out Matt as the hardest working Ranger on the team so I am kicking his ass in speed and agility.
We are all near throwing up when he blows the whistle and tells us to hit the showers.
Matt saunters over, heaving his breaths and grinning. “Well, well. Nothing like seeing the rookie prove how he got the chance to come up.”
I lift my middle finger as I bend forward and struggle for air.
“Come on, man. Let’s shower and get some food. I’m dying.” He slaps me on the ass and starts limping to the showers.
I force myself to follow him, regardless of the fact my body is begging me to stop and lie down. Maybe call a doctor.
The trainer here is just a little meaner than the one in Hartford. Just enough that you know you’re almost in organ failure. But it’s good. The New York Rangers are known for being fit.
The hot water feels incredible, but the nausea isn’t going anywhere, thanks to the steam.
“Hey, Brady!” one of the guys in the back shouts over the shower.
I turn and nod. “Yeah?”
“It true you Clintoned the team nurse in Hartford?”
A disgusting grin creeps along my face. “What? I wouldn't ever do something so despicable.”
He laughs and shouts. “You know it’s the same nurse here, right?”
My grin drops off.
Matt points and shouts, “You dirty bastard. She’s almost forty.” He gives a couple of the older guys a wry grin. “Which is still totally young.”
He earns a couple of middle fingers and several fuck yous.
The whole thing makes me laugh, even if I have no desire to see that nurse again. My cock begs to differ, but my heart is running the show.
Natalie told me she loves me a week ago. That's the big stuff.
“You ready for the game tomorrow night, rookie? We’re playing the Canadiens.”
“Yup.” I don't even look at who is asking, I just nod and smile. “I’m ready.” And that's the truth. I am ready to play hard, love hard, work hard, and live hard.
When we leave the arena, I head for Broadway. It’s almost five and Natalie should be off. I’ve only seen her twice in the last week since she said those four words: I love you, Brady. They have been everything all week.
My phone rings as I’m standing on the street outside the massive Penguin Random building. It’s my brother. “Hey.”
“Hey, rookie, what’s going on?” He chuckles.
“Nothing. Just waiting for Nat to get off work. What are you doing?”
“Patrols. We’re just cruising around the shore looking for a bunch of kids who have been smashing windows in some of the cottages.”
He makes me smile. “You’re doing patrols and talking on the phone?”
“It’s not like I’m going to give myself shit, Blow Job.” He chuckles. “Now, tell me more about this girl. Mom is over the moon but I’m worried. You actually sound a little bit into her. This is your first time. Have you gone stage-four clinger on her?”
“No, fuckhead. She’s awesome. You’re going to meet her and be sorry you even mocked this.”
“How’s it feel?”
“What?” I suspect he’s about to make some serious fun of me.
“Having your balls drop?” He laughs.
“Good.” I laugh too, but we both know he was right. Same girl-itis goes away.
“Yeah, it does. How’s that same piece of dry toast tasting now, ya little shit?”
“Fucking good, okay? I like it. I like the same dry toast every goddamned day.” I turn and wince, seeing Natalie staring at me from the entrance. She cocks an eyebrow. “I better go. The toast just got here.”
“Fuck you and see you tomorrow!”
“You too.” It’s like I love you, but not as girlie.
She opens her mouth but pauses before muttering, “Same dry toast every day?” Her eyes show the wheels turning. “Let me guess, I am the same dry toast?”
“Yeah.” I groan. “My brother has been with this girl, Lacey, since he was nineteen. They got together and got married a year ago and now they’re having a kid and he’s like twenty-four. And I made fun of him every day for the last five years, saying how he’s got the same piece of dry toast to look forward to. And now—”
“You have this dry toast too?” She looks offended.
“Right, but the point is that I like having the same dry toast.”
“Dry toast?”
“It’s like a metaphor for no variety. Which I assumed was a bad thing when I was younger. I was only seventeen when they got together. And my brother was the biggest player. So he went from a different breakfast every day to—”
“You should stop. This isn’t fixing it.”
I cringe. “I am trying to say, I don't think of you or Lacey as dry toast any more.”
“But you did think of me that way?”
“No. Not ever. Once I met you I realized the dry toast analogy was way off and the same girl was different than lots of different girls.”
“Okay, let’s just agree that you will never bring any of this up again,” she snaps and takes my hand. “You’re being weird.”
I don't say anything else. There’s not much else to say. I’ve literally fit my whole foot in my mouth.
“Wanna go for dinner?” I test the water after a minute.
She sighs and gives me a look, stopping us both in the middle of the street during the busiest time of day. I drag her to the side of the building we are next to and hold her tight. “No. I want you to come to our place for dinner. I’m tired and I want to put on something grungy and maybe force you to watch something girlie.”
“Okay.” I wrinkle my nose. “Rough week?”
“No. Just tired because it’s new, and I’m still lost and I miss Hartford and all the people and how fun it was. But I’m catching on and a girl named Linna was nice to me today. She sat with me at lunch and we talked. She’s from Providence too. She said you guys were in seventh grade together, but you probably won’t remember her. Dark hair and blue eyes and really pretty.”
My insides clench. “Linna Mackenzie?”
“Yeah!” Her eyes are wide and then they dull. “Really?” She reads my face like a book. “You are why I can’t have nice things.”
I bend down and kiss her cheek. “You are my nice thing.” How the fuck is it possible she works with a girl I fucked when I was fifteen? Fuck! “You are everything.”
She makes duck lips and looks off to the right. Her sour mood is going strong tonight, and I suspect I am the cause of it all.
“Do you want to go back to Hartford?” I run my hands along her neck and cheek. She’s cold.
Her bright eyes widen as she lifts her face to mine and shrugs. “I don't know. I need to give this more of a chance, I think.”
I bend and kiss her softly. “Whatever you want to do, I’m with you on it. I already told you that.”
She melts into me and lets me hold her.
“And I’m sorry about Linna. I was fifteen.”
She laughs against my lips. “You should trade out West.”
I shake my head. “That won’t help.”
She pulls back and rolls her eyes. “Gross.”
I let her lead me back to her place.
Chapter Forty
Meet the folks
Natalie
Our seat is close to the penalty box so if he goes in I might actually see him. I don't want him to go in though. Not his first week as a Ranger. Even if he looks sexy in the white, red, and blue and I want a close up.
The stands start filling as the game gets closer to start time and I am insanely nervous. Not just for him but also for the fact his family couldn't come right away, they got delayed by something and now I’m stuck introducing myself in the seats when they arri
ve.
“Why are you twitching?”
“Dude, it’s his mom, brother, and sister in law plus it’s Brady’s first game. I’m a mess.” I give Sami a look.
She wrinkles her nose. “He’s going to rock. And they’re going to love you. Everyone does.”
“It’s a lot for one night.” Nervously I glance about, sipping my cocoa and waiting. I know them the moment I see them. “Oh fuck, that's them.”
There’s a guy who looks just like Brady and a pregnant lady. With them is a small woman with dark hair. They stop when they see me and then start waving. It’s the strangest thing I’ve ever seen. His mom even hurries.
“Yeah it is.” Sami sounds scared now too.
“You must be Natalie!” His mom rushes to me and wraps her arms around me. She hugs tightly and I detect a subtle hint of cookie on her. When she pulls back she inspects me. “You are prettier than he could have described.” She pulls me back in.
The other two offer a simple wave, both smiling like this whole mauling thing is something we all get used to.
“I’m Andy and this is my wife, Lacey.” The Brady look-alike and the beautiful, but very pregnant blonde both smile.
“I’m Natalie. This is my bestie, Sami.” I mutter through his mother’s dark hair. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Sami waves and grins at me and the mom-mauling.
Brady’s mom pulls back finally and offers me to them. His sister in law hugs, awkwardly, like she’s trying not to get the belly all over me. And his brother offers me his hand. “The girl who tamed the beast. It’s nice to finally meet.” Andy laughs. I can tell by the sparkle in his eyes he knows exactly what his brother is like.
“Come on, let's sit and get ready.” Their mom sits and drags me with her. “How did BJ seem today? He gets tense sometimes when it’s game day. Was he tense?” She’s tense but I get it. This is a lifetime of work coming to a head. The culmination of a family full of dreams all coming true in one moment.
Sami sits next to me, doing her indifferent face.
It’s weird being with them and being with my family. The life was the same and then completely opposite. His parents wanted what was best for him, same as mine, and they had a dream for him, same as mine, but they let him choose the dream, in the end. My dad did that for me, but my mom didn't.
I wish she could see and feel what this moment is like. I wish I could have been the kid who made her dreams come true for her.
But my dreams have only started forming in the last little while. And they are attached to the guy about to skate out onto the ice.
I spent so long living the dream I was told I wanted that I didn't know I had other dreams. Now I want someone else’s dreams, but I want them for the right reason. Brady loves hockey. He plays better than anyone I’ve seen. And he has fought for this moment harder than I have seen anyone fight.
I turn and glance at his mom, pressing my lips together when I see the thin line her lips are pressed into and the way her eyes are sparkling with pride and love and maybe even a little fear.
I reach over and take her hand in mine, squeezing and looking back out at the ice. “He’s going to be amazing.”
She nods as the teams both come out, music and announcements and anthems fill the cool air around us.
Her other hand covers her mouth when she sees him. It stays there for the anthem and doesn't budge when they skate over to the benches.
The arena is loud and vibrating, but I would swear it’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Her fear becomes some of mine and my heart starts to pick up the pace, building in my chest. I can’t breathe even when they finally get onto the ice, ready to face off. Brady isn’t on but when the puck drops we lose sight of who the players are focus on the game.
I don't know if Brady goes on. I’m not watching for his number. I’m keeping up with the game and the craziness of it all. Someone goes into the boards, taking a dirty hit. There are several shots on net from both teams. The tension builds, the crowd goes wild. Every movement becomes something the crowd gets upset about. The Canadiens have heaps of fans in the crowd, which is weird for me.
“Are the Canadiens a hard team to beat?” I lean in and ask Sami.
“Yeah, the goalie is one of the best in the world. Some say the best. This season he’s been one goal against average, it's impressive. They’re very hard to beat.”
I’m not entirely sure what she just said but I get the gist of it. The one week Brady had here to train didn't give him much time to discuss the amazing career of the team he would play against. He just said there was a bit of a rivalry between the two teams over injuring the goalie a couple of years ago.
I see that now.
The Ranger’s goalie stops six shots on net, almost the same number as the Canadiens’ does. We all scream and cheer as they fight for a goal. The first period ends with nothing but all of us on the edge of our seats.
Brady’s mom gives me a look as she takes her seat again. “I hope Brady get’s to play.”
“He will.”
When the Zamboni is done and the teams get back onto the ice, she squeezes my arm and points at the defenseman in the back on the right. I squint and nod. “That's him!”
The puck drops and he skates back, not forward, not following the puck. He hangs around the line, waiting for the puck to come back to their end. The goalie for the Canadiens stops another shot on goal and the forward for that team skates hard as a defenseman sends the puck down.
Brady and the other defenseman each stay wide, the puck comes down the side opposite Brady but gets shot across, he intercepts the puck, skating hard and fast forward. He passes to the right winger, but stays with them as the right passes to the center who passes to the left. The Canadiens pull out a thick defense but the center passes to Brady who skates, fakes a pass and shoots. The puck rebounds, but it’s like they knew the goalie would deflect it. The left-winger is there, flicks the rebound in, just under the goalie’s mitt.
The sirens go and the crowd goes wild.
His mom is screaming and shaking me. His brother and his wife are mauling each other. And I am grinning like an idiot. I don't actually know if it counts as an assist if it goes off the goalie.
The puck drops and the tension rises.
Everyone is freaking out, offering their very best advice. And when the buzzer goes for the end of the second period, we are exhausted and yet still wired.
“I can’t imagine playing at this level all the time. They must get exhausted.”
Andy shakes his head. “They train for it and have routines. Like last night, did Brady sleep alone?”
“Yeah.” I eye up his mom and nod.
”He might always do that before a game. They get a routine that works for the and they never stray form it.”
“Weird.” I have never noticed Brady having a routine before.
The Zamboni finishes and the teams come back out. Brady is on the ice again, again as a defenseman. The puck drops and it's the same thing. But this time Montreal wins the drop and the puck starts coming for the Ranger’s end, and fast.
Brady doesn't go for the guy with the puck, he guesses the pass, again intercepting and passing up to the center. He skates forward with them again, leaving the one defenseman behind.
Sami shouts about that.
The center passes to the right, he passes to Brady, who passes it to the left. One of the Canadien’s takes the left-winger into the boards, stealing back the puck. Again Brady sees the pass and goes for it, catching it before it lands at the forward.
He sends it to the right-winger just as someone takes Brady into the boards. His mom and I hold out breath as he gets up and skates back to defense as the puck is being wrestled over at centerline.
The other defenseman does what Brady did and intercepts the pass, flicking the puck to Brady in a desperate move as he’s taken into the board. Brady fakes a pass to the center who skates hard at the same moment Brady does. Both men get a bit of a breakaw
ay, passing back and forth. Center fakes his shot, a huge made up slap shot as he flicks the puck to Brady who takes the slap shot. The goalie has gone to the spot for the center and leaves the far left side open. Brady takes the shot, the puck sails past the best goalie in the world.
The sirens go and Brady scores. He leaps into the air, hugging and being hugged and slapped by his teammates.
His mom starts to cry. Her voice is so hoarse from shouting, I can barely hear her. His brother looks like he might cry, but he holds back. I’m fighting the tears. I want to save them for the moment I see Brady.
The pregnant sister is bawling.
It’s a huge moment.
The stands are going crazy as Brady’s face appears on the huge screen in the Garden. Sami shakes me just like Brady’s mom did.
The game goes back into play with a line change, Montreal wins the puck drop, but the defensemen keep the puck out of their zone. They fight back and forth, again taking shots and trying to score but when the final buzzer goes, New York has won the game 2-0.
Brady skates with his team for the centerline to shake hands. One of the refs skates to him and hands him something.
He finishes shaking hands and is about to leave the ice with the team when he stops. He looks at where we are and skates over. He reaches overtop the Plexiglas and drops a puck over and points at his mom. His face is covered in sweat and emotion.
She jumps down and grabs the puck, holding it close to her heart.
He looks at us all through the glass and winks before he turns and skates away.
His mom cries a little more, still softly to herself as she sniffles and lifts the battered puck up for us to see.
Epilogue
Brady
She smiles at me from the other side of the room where my brother is still nattering her poor ears off. I suspect she’s going to throat punch him any second and tell him that his job is boring as fuck. But she doesn't. She continues to listen to the monotone rendition of how my brother is the same as Magnum PI.
