32. Morgan

32

MORGAN

“Damn, sis. You’ve been holding out on us.” Matthew whistles as he looks around the arena.

Our seats are right next to the glass in the center of the ice. We won’t be able to see every detail of the game from this vantage point, but we will see the action up close and personal when the Ranchers and Crocs face off.

It’s game three of the finals, and it’s the first one to take place in Dallas. The Crocs are an incredible team, and they held the Ranchers to one score in game one.

News outlets saw the outcome of that first game and immediately began declaring Florida could sweep the Ranchers. They accused the Dallas team of being talented but unrefined. They praised Dane’s offensive performance and Cam’s goaltending but said their skill wasn’t enough to beat Florida.

The Ranchers proved them wrong by winning game two in enemy territory.

Tonight, the atmosphere inside the Ranchers’ arena is electric. Every Ranchers fan eagerly awaits the organization’s first home finals game in history. Loud music blares over the speakers, pumping up the crowd as players from both teams skate around the ice, warming up and taking practice shots at the net.

“Thank Dane,” I tell my oldest brother, smiling as I see Dane send a puck flying into the back of the net between Cam’s padded legs.

“I knew there would be perks with my sister dating a hockey star,” Miles speaks up, leaning back in his seat, kicking his feet up on the edge of the glass.

Mason smacks his twin’s feet down. The two push and shove each other, exchanging grumbled insults. Matthew and I share a look and roll our eyes.

“It’s too bad Mom and Dad couldn’t make it,” Matthew says.

My smile falters. “Yeah… it is.”

I’d been so hopeful when Dad mentioned attending one of Dane’s games during lunch a couple of weeks ago. Unfortunately, he hasn’t followed through.

“Be patient,” Matthew says, seeing my disappointment. “He just needs a little more time.”

I watch the Ranchers’ mascot, a cartoon-style cowboy, skate around the edge of the ice, shooting shirts out of his t-shirt cannon into the crowd.

“I know.”

No matter what Dad says, it’s obvious he still struggles with the loss of his dream career in the NHL, even after all this time.

That doesn’t mean he didn’t step up and choose another career to support his family. In no way has he wallowed in misery at the expense of living a full life. But powering through loss and moving on are not the same thing.

I suspected that dating Dane would bring up uncomfortable memories and feelings for my dad, but when he mentioned going to a game, I thought I was wrong. I was eager for my family to join me in cheering my boyfriend on during such a monumental time in his career.

At least my brothers are here.

“Speaking of Mom,” Matthew changes the subject, glancing at the ice when the players skate through the openings behind their respective nets, heading to the locker room for last-minute strategy conversations. “Things seem tense between you guys.”

I inhale through my nostrils as the memory of my latest phone conversation with Mom plays in my head. “Yeah… that’s my fault.”

“What happened?”

“I called her the other day,” I confess, crossing my arms and staring at the Ranchers staff rolling out a carpet to prepare for the national anthem. “I invited her to a strength and conditioning class at a studio in Rose Hill that Carlee told me about, but she turned me down.”

Matthew tilts his head to the side. “And… that made you mad?”

“I’m not mad she said no,” I say. “I’m mad because of the reason she gave.”

“What was her reason?”

I’ve never talked to my brothers about this, but I have to believe they aren’t blind to what I’ve seen and heard my entire life.

“Have you noticed how Mom talks about herself?” I ask. “How she talks about her body?”

His forehead furrows. “You mean how she’s obsessed with dieting?”

Relief floods my chest. “Yes. And the toxic view she has about ‘earning’ her meals and her desire to remain as thin as a ballet dancer even though that’s not healthy for a woman of her age and activity level.”

Matthew grimaces. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

“That’s what made me mad,” I confess. “Mom constantly talks badly about her body. Growing up, it was a struggle not to internalize the same negative thoughts about my own body. I hate that she doesn’t love herself and that she refuses to go to a great workout class because she doesn’t ‘want to get bulky’ even though she encourages me to go in the same breath.”

The frustration I felt at the double standard resurfaces. I take deep breaths to get my emotions under control.

“I can see how that would be frustrating,” Matthew says.

“You shouldn’t take Mom’s words personally,” Miles joins the conversation. I turn my back to the glass and face my three brothers, who form a semicircle around me. “You know she’s proud of you and your athletic accomplishments.”

“But I get how it could be hard to believe when she says things to contradict that,” Mason tacks on.

My shoulders fall. “Yeah. It is.”

It feels good to have my feelings heard and validated, especially by my brothers, who grew up in the same house and witnessed the same things I did.

“What’s worse is knowing I’m not the only woman who’s had to fight against twisted body image ideals and toxic diet culture. Even my college teammates struggled with the concept of eating enough food to be able to achieve their peak athletic performance.”

“Why don’t you do something about it?”

I blink at Miles. “What?”

“You’re a nutritionist and an athlete,” he says, looking at our brothers for support. “Couldn’t you… I don’t know… create a platform to discuss the importance of nutrition for female athletes? Talk about the science behind it and stuff like that?”

“Or maybe a business,” Mason suggests.

“I bet there’s a market for it,” Matthew adds. “If you know how to find it.”

I look between my brothers, touched by their support. “Dane suggested something similar,” I tell them.

From the corner of my eye, I see the players return to the ice. I zero in on Dane, admiring how strong and imposing he looks in his uniform and how confident and relaxed he seems despite this being one of the biggest games of his life.

“Well, Dane is a smart guy,” Matthew says, pulling my attention from my boyfriend.

“But he’s dating you, so maybe not? Ow!” Miles grabs his arm where I punched him.

I roll my eyes. “Please, I barely hit you.”

“Lies.” Miles looks at his twin. “You saw that, right?”

“I didn’t see a thing.”

Miles gasps. “Judas! You’re supposed to be my ally. Twin code.”

The announcer’s voice booms over the speakers, interrupting the impending sibling argument, as he asks everyone to rise for the national anthem.

My brothers and I face the ice. Matthew and Mason remove their hats and hold them to their chest as the anthem plays.

Like a magnet to metal, my gaze is drawn to the star center who is positioned almost directly in front of me on the ice. A smile tugs on my lips when I see Dane looking at me. His eyes dip meaningfully to my torso, and his smile broadens, telling me he notices I’m wearing his jersey.

I bite my lip, elated by how happy the small gesture makes him.

Things between us have been amazing. Dane is the same sweet, thoughtful, and amusing man he’s always been, but admitting we love each other has ramped up his affection to a level I never could have anticipated.

Dane is incredible. Our relationship is perfect. But though we don’t talk about it, there’s a cloud of uncertainty hanging over heads about Dane’s future.

He says he’ll retire rather than be traded, and I believe him, but I hope things don’t come to that.

I can’t help but think of my dad. Dane’s situation is different. He will be choosing to end his career rather than be forced to because of an injury. But will Dane one day wish he’d made a different choice? Will he be able to watch hockey games without struggling with regret?

Stop it, Morgan.

There’s no point trying to anticipate what will happen. Dane is a grown man, and he’s capable of making his own choices. As his partner, all I can do is support him. I will be by his side and lend an ear, shoulder… whatever he needs whenever the time comes and he faces what comes next.

But I really hope the Ranchers decide to keep him.

I hope the owner’s threats are empty. I don’t plan on quitting my job, but now that I think about it, maybe I should seriously consider creating a business tailored for female athletes. I don’t work directly with the Gianni family, but there’s the very real possibility that if I decide not to resign, they could make my work life uncomfortable, if not hostile.

I shouldn’t have to, but it might be wise to come up with a contingency plan.

And what better plan than to do something brave—something I’m passionate about—something my loved ones believe I can do?

Possibilities swirl in my head. My excitement grows as each potential idea comes to mind, but I put all that on pause as I focus my attention on the ice as the game is about to begin.

The referee blows his whistle and drops the puck, and the third game of the finals is underway.

My brothers and I cheer and boo in sync with the rest of the crowd. We shout in protest when the Crocs’ star winger checks Dane but cheer when the center spins and continues moving the puck down the ice. He passes it to Gavin on the right side and the winger sends the puck into the back of the net. The horn above the net sounds, and the arena erupts into celebration.

My emotions are a rollercoaster, and my heart rate spikes countless times over the next hour until the final minutes of the third period when the Ranchers are up three to one. Victory seems assured, and all Ranchers fans are starting to cheer in celebration. We’re about to go up two to one in the series.

Though home arena advantage isn’t a guarantee, Game Four will be at home, which should mean we go up three to one. The Ranchers are an incredible team full of talent and drive. This is our year to win. I feel it.

Dane feels it too. My boyfriend skates on the ice, avoiding his opponents’ sticks and attempts to barrel into him. Crocs fans around me scream for their team to stop him. Dane is doing circles around them, wearing a triumphant smile.

One of the Crocs’ defensemen takes offense, and his temper gets the best of him.

Time seems to slow as I watch the massive man skate full speed towards my boyfriend.

Dane pivots right to avoid a wingman heading his way. He doesn’t see the defenseman until it’s too late.

The two bodies collide. Dane is shoved into the wall. His helmet hits the glass, cracking the sturdy material, and then it flies off. Dane falls to the ground, his head smacking the ice with a sound that will haunt me for weeks to come.

He doesn’t get up.