Well, that was weird. At least Monty, Faith’s dad, seems reliable enough, and the kids love serving popcorn. It occurs to me again that they’re too adorable to be the kind of monsters Isobel claims them to be. She dumped them at a concession stand! What kind of fucking nanny is she? A shitty one, for starters. I need to make sure that as soon as this game’s over, I get in touch with the agency and tell them about their ‘Precious Isobel’.

Thank goodness she left them with people who seem decent enough, but I doubt she vetted them before she ran off. Home. Not even to the hotel. I wonder if she took her things to the arena with her before she decided to do a disappearing act.

“Tristan, are you listening?”

I’m nodding, but it’s been a crazy day and I can’t help but think that it’s a sign. The last time I played a game, things went from bad to worse, and I found out that my wife, Hayley, was choosing to leave me for my best friend. She left the kids, too, deciding she would have a better life with him.

I’d taken it to be a curse from that moment onward. Ferguson was too young to remember her. Darcy didn’t seem to care at the time. She didn’t understand, and that broke my heart even more.

Then, things had turned from worse to worst, and Hayley and her newfound lover both died when the plane went down. Their romantic trip to the Bahamas turned into an instant tragedy. A tragedy that saved my kids from the painful truth. I’ve been honest with them that their mom died, but I don’t want them to ever find out that she died trying to leave us.

“Team, we need to get together and think about our strategy. Don’t let Boston fool you into thinking that they’re weak. They’ve turned their team around, and they’ve been working hard!”

My head’s not even in the game before it begins. I’m too busy thinking about the kids, out there with people I don’t even know. The past is haunting me, too. I need to make sure they have a bright future, because the past has been far too bleak for them thus far. And the only way to do that is to win. And not just by luck. All my training and aspirations need to come into play today.

I switch my mind over to the coach and his pep talk. The one that he gives before every game. I’m here to win. We’re all here to win, and as captain, I need to focus. On the game. The one that I have every intention of winning. I wouldn’t be much of a captain to the team if I thought we’d do anything but.

Game on.

* * *

As much as I love playing hockey, I hate playing away from home. There’s a tension in the crowd whenever we play away from home. The home team wants to win, especially on their home ground. Both teams want to be the ones to show that they’re on top. And because this is the first game of the season for both teams, the tension is at an all-time high.

We’ve got to fly to Colorado on Wednesday for our next game, and we need this win to raise the spirits and morale of our fans in the stands, especially after the way our team crashed and burned last season.

Tonight, I’m grateful for our fans. It seems that there’s a good mix and they’ve made the journey to support us. We can’t let them down. I gave my speech to the team in the dressing room. By then, my mind was focused solely on the game, and everything else that happened before was pushed onto the back burner for the next few hours.

So far, we’ve been given a lot of opportunities to score, and we’re not taking them. Our first goal was pretty much a fluke. We need to get it together.

I swear, I’m trying to stay focused on the game, but my mind keeps drifting to the kids. I just want to make sure they’re okay. That’s all I fucking want.

Then, I remind myself that a stranger and her dad are looking after them at a public concession stand, and I get even more nervous. It doesn’t make me feel better, only worse.

I wish Mom and Dad were here. They’ve helped me out so much over the years, and I’ve come to rely on them. But, it’s clear that the strain was getting to be too much. I’d put so much pressure on them, and it took me way too long to realize I needed a nanny. I thought it was best for them to rest and look after the kids when they could, and when they wanted to, rather than because there was no other choice.

Fuck!

It’s only the first period, but we’re not scoring. We’re just getting chances, and we’re not making good on them. It doesn’t help that I’m the center and, so far, I’m concentrating on everything except the game happening around me.

The coach is screaming my name as though his life depends on it, and I know that he’s not praising me. He’s cursing a blue streak at me, probably wanting to get someone else on the ice to take my place.

Fuck, I don’t blame him. I’ve nearly fallen three times. It’s as if I’ve forgotten how to skate, so wrapped up in my own head that I can’t seem to get coordinated. I don’t feel strong, and normally one check wouldn’t make me tumble down like Humpty Dumpty.

Focus, Tristan! Fucking focus!

Thank God, everything starts to turn around after we have another pep talk following the first period, and the coach tries to kick my ass into gear. During the second period, our defense is strong and the shots are finally being taken, seeming to come out of nowhere. The hoots and hollers from the crowd only push us harder, and I’m not the only one who seems to have remembered how to fucking play.

5-3 to Boston.

It’s close, but it’s not over yet. I’m going to fucking keep pushing all the way. To hell with pussying out and letting shit get in my way of what I want. My kids are fine, but my career won’t be without this win. At this rate, Arizona will give me away like a fucking free toy in a McDonald’s Happy Meal if I don’t get it together.

My eyes narrow. Something’s happened to Boston’s goalie. He’s either tired, or he’s hurt himself from that last fall, now weak on the right side. I signal to Joshua—that’s our opening. We need to focus on the right side, and then we’ll start coming up on top.

By the third period, I’m not missing a thing. Just over eight minutes remain, and I know that this is my time to shine. Greg takes a shot off a faceoff in the offensive zone, and I suck in a breath as I retrieve it and take a shot on their net. It’s deflected by one of Boston’s players.

It occurs to me it might be over for us; the score is too fucking close. But I dig deeper, go after it with everything I’ve fucking got, and get another chance. Slapshot, and the puck narrowly misses the goalie’s glove, sailing into the net.

Goal!

I know the crowd wasn't exactly happy about my presence. This is my second year back after taking a year off when Hayley died, and rumors flew that I wasn’t ready to hit the ice. I sure as hell wasn’t ready last year. Reporters had a field day with that, and the fact that my wife had been killed in a plane crash. But thankfully, they never found out she’d been intent on leaving me. And that’s the way I wanted to keep it. She’d been on a trip that had ended in tragedy. Everything else was my own cross to bear.

I’m not sure if Boston just gives up after my goal, but they’re not coming back from it. We’re taking shots as if we’re the only players on the ice. Not just me, but the entire team. Playing like a real team—that’s the fucking beautiful part of it.

By the end of the third period, we’re leading 7-5, and I know that it’s a clear win. But, it doesn’t mean we have this game in the bag. We can’t get cocky, or we’ll end up losing it. No sloppiness, no penalties.

Let the opposition start to get fucking desperate. Let them make mistakes. Boston is on home ground—they can, and will, try every dirty trick in the book to turn things around.

But, all we have to do is maintain the score we’ve got.

In the remaining minutes, we’re unstoppable. The people in the stands are losing their minds, on their feet, waving their hands and cheering. The final score gets called, and pride overtakes every member of our team. I’m fucking ecstatic, having scored the final goal.

We’re going to Colorado. As fucking winners. Something we haven’t been in a long time.