Chapter 27

Delia

Is there a reason you didn't mention YOUR PARENTS were going to be in the suite tonight?

She didn't expect a response since Jack was most likely warming up with his team or changing in the dressing room, so she jumped when her phone buzzed against her thigh.

Jack

Was that meant for your mom again?

Ha. Ha. Seriously! Why didn't you say something?

About what?

YOUR PARENTS!!!

Okay I thought you were joking

Not a joke. Your parents are here. Sitting next to me. And the hotel didn't deliver my bag, so I haven't reapplied deodorant

You're screwed then. My parents have noses like bloodhounds

NOT FUNNY JACK

I laughed

I can't believe they're there. They didn't tell me they could make it

You invited them?

What kind of person doesn't invite their parents when they're in the NHL playoffs?

Fair. You still could've mentioned it

Have to run. Talk about coin collections and you'll have my dad eating out of the palm of your hand

I know nothing about coins

Jack

JACK

Delia shifted in her seat as Marc and Leslie Harrison took the two seats to her right. She searched the stands for the rest of the Snowballs players just to have something to keep her occupied. What did they know? Had Jack told them the truth about their relationship like she'd told her mother?

Clara and Oscar were supposed to join them at some point, but there wasn"t enough space in the suite to fit everyone from the Snowballs. Alvin stood at the back next to the door, and Mary was still dishing up food.

"Jack doesn"t know we"re here. We can"t wait to surprise him," Leslie said as she sat, then took her plate of food from Marc"s lap.

Delia groaned internally. Hopefully Jack was a good actor because she"d already blown that cover. "I can"t believe you drove here all the way from Moose Jaw. How long of a drive was that?"

"About seven and a half hours if you drive straight through. We did over half of it yesterday, stayed the night in Battleford."

That meant nothing to her. As far as Delia was concerned, Saskatchewan was one large swathe of blue sky and prairie grass between Alberta and Manitoba. "Glad you got here safely."

"We really wish we would"ve been able to attend the last game in Calgary. Jack didn"t tell us you"d be singing the national anthems!" Leslie dipped her chip in the puddle of salsa on the edge of her plate.

"It was a last minute thing. Jack didn"t even know until he came out of the dressing room." Delia"s insides warmed thinking of the way he"d looked at her as he walked through the tunnel. That was when he"d invited her here.

Marc popped the tab on his can of Molson. "Well, we"re thrilled you decided to make the trek up. Especially considering the effect you have on Jack"s game play."

Delia frowned. "What effect?"

Marc took a drink, then set the can on the small shelf on the rail in front of their seats. "All his stats were elevated significantly in the game you attended. People think having you in the stands makes him play better."

Hadn't someone told her that was a thing? She thought back to their first conversation with Jack in the dressing room. Kels. He'd given a stat and Jack had asked what the numbers said about fake girlfriends.

Leslie shrugged. "It makes sense. You always wanted to show off for me when we were dating."

Marc shook his head. "I wasn"t showing off . . ."

They continued to banter, but Delia"s mind had taken off in another direction. Would a fake girlfriend have the same effect? Did Jack hope it did? Was that why he"d wanted her to come? No, it couldn"t be. She hadn't even attended a game before he"d invited her to the playoffs.

But maybe there was some other motivating factor? She thought back to her rehearsal. To Lisa"s words right as she finished. We put your pop-up appearance in all our socials, and we"ve already seen a last-minute ticket surge.

No.Delia pressed her feet into the floor and drew a breath deep. She was not going to do this again. She wasn't going to tense up and crash because of shadows. Jack had invited her here. He was flirtatious in his texts. He'd stayed the night with her when she needed him to and had called in friends to help in a crisis. None of that was in her contract.

He hadn't done anything wrong. So why was she flinching at every tiny thing?

A thought scrawled across her consciousness like her signature on the posters outside. You"re terrified of making this real. What the? Delia turned the phrase over in her head, inspecting it from all angles.

She wasn"t afraid of being in a relationship, was she? She'd been trying to make one happen for years. Sure, she was hesitant to jump in, but that was just smart. Guys always pretended to be something they weren"t. She"d learned that the hard way enough times to look at everyone with a skeptical eye.

But Jack wasn"t pretending. At least she didn"t think so. Yet she was tearing the house apart for a reason to back away.

"Oh! There they are!" Leslie leaned forward in her seat as players began appearing behind the boards. They glided out onto the ice in a steady stream, like water being poured from a pitcher. "There"s Jack!" She pointed, and Delia found him without even having to rely on the name on the back of his jersey. After watching his clips online and seeing him play in person, she knew his gait. Was that what it was called on the ice? His . . . canter? Delia almost laughed out loud at the mental image of a horse on skates.

Delia turned to see where the hell Mary was and found her standing next to the counter talking to Alvin. She smirked. Of course she was. As she scoured the far recesses of her mind for some tidbit about historical Canadian currency, the door to the suite opened and Clara and Oscar walked in. Saved by the sister-not-in-law. "Oh hey, Clara"s here."

Leslie and Marc shot up, nearly spilling their food all over their laps. They set their plates down on the rail and walked up the stairs to Clara.

"What?" Clara clapped her hands over her mouth. "I didn"t know you were coming!" She hugged her parents one at a time, the giddy smile never slipping from her face. There was a definite bump there. With her coat undone, it was obvious. But not obvious enough for her to ask about it. Not directly. She made a mental note to grill Jack about his sister's fertility later.

Delia pulled out her phone. She scrolled an embarrassingly long way down until she found her mom"s contact and pressed. It only rang three times before her mother picked up.

"Allo? Delia?"

"Allo Maman." Delia grinned, but it didn"t last. Her mother exhaled with a wheeze. "Mom, are you okay?"

"I"m fine." She cleared her throat.

"You don"t sound fine."

She scoffed. "I had a little cold."

Delia"s chest tightened. "A little cold?—"

"Don"t do that, mon chou. You don"t need to worry about me."

"Well, I do worry about you."

"I should be the anxious one. Are you with Jack? Is he treating you well?" her mother asked.

Delia breathed a laugh. "I"m at his hockey game. You can watch on TV if you want. It"s their first playoff game."

"I"m heading to work, but I'll turn it on for a moment." There was a clattering of pans and she muttered something under her breath in French. "Tell me what you"ve been doing while I eat."

Delia trained her eyes on the white jersey with Harrison stretched across the shoulders. He gracefully circled the ice, taking shots on an open net. "I"ve been busy. I finished recording that collaboration with Ethan Hayes. I love it."

"When does it release?"

"It"s with IndieLake now, so whenever they decide to publish it. Shouldn"t be more than a few days. They like to rapid-release normally, so I bet they"ll push even harder with this. Since the press is having a field day with me and Jack."

Her mother clicked her tongue. "Your face is everywhere. It"s like you aren"t even gone."

Delia groaned. "I"m sorry. That must be annoying." She tensed, waiting for her mom to mention something else that was appearing everywhere online. Then she remembered her mother barely looked at more than newspapers and magazines. "I saw the picture of your kiss with Jack Harrison."

Delia barked a laugh. "Where did you see that?"

"Toronto Sun! Page three!"

"Wow, they must be hurting for content." She ran a hand through her hair, then waved as Clara and Oscar appeared in the aisle. They took seats on the other side of the stairs.

"Was it?—"

"Yes." Delia whispered the word against the speaker. "Very good."

Her mother sighed. "Ah, and . . . the rest?"

Delia frowned. "What do you?—"

"Is he a good lover, Delia? Does he take you out of your head and?—"

"Mom!" Delia turned so she was facing Mary"s empty seat and crossed her legs. As if that would put out the heat that was suddenly shooting across her inner thighs. "I don"t know."

"You don"t know if he"s a good lover, or?—?"

Delia shrunk further in her seat. "I don"t know because we haven"t." She stopped herself at the sound of Leslie and Marc behind her. "You know what this is, Mom. I told you?—"

"I know, I know, but I"ve seen the pictures, Delia. You don"t look like you"re faking anything."

"Okay, I think the game is about to start?—"

"I have it on TV, Delia. The players are still warming up. You can just tell me you"re not in tune with your body and it makes you uncomfortable to talk about natural desires and needs."

Delia groaned. "I"m so glad I phoned."

"What kind of mother would I be if I didn"t tell you to experience life, mon chou? All it has to offer. None of us know how long we have on God"s beautiful earth, and you worry too much. Just be there. Enjoy the moment. If you love, you love. If you get hurt, you get hurt. There is no ending you can"t write a new story from."

Delia breathed as those words sank in. It sounded lovely. And completely impractical. "Love you, Mom. I wish I was there to eat with you."

"We"ll eat together soon enough." Her mother made a kissing sound. Delia sent one back to her.

"I"ll be back in Calgary at the end of the week."

"Good. Don"t talk to me until then. Find out if Jack"s a good lov?—"

"Okay! Love you, Mom!" Delia laughed and hung up the call. Weren"t most mothers telling their children not to sleep with athletes?

"Everything alright?" Marc asked as she turned back to face the ice.

Delia nodded, her cheeks hot. "Yep. Just talking to my mom."

Leslie smiled. "I love that you have a good relationship. I didn"t ever have one with my mom."

"No?" Delia picked up her Coke.

Leslie shook her head. "My parents didn"t have a happy relationship. Which was why I waited a little longer to settle down." She patted Marc's leg and left her hand on his thigh. "We were so thrilled when Clara met Oscar, and then Jack—" She stopped and looked between Delia and Marc.

"He told her." Marc patted her hand. "We talked about it right at the beginning."

Right at the beginning? She processed that statement. Jack must've talked to his parents about her and mentioned their conversation about Angie. Her hands tingled at the image of Jack sitting in his room with his phone pressed against his ear, reliving the words they'd said to each other.

Leslie looked up with a shimmer in her eye. "Okay, then. Well. You might not know, but Jack hasn't dated anyone since Angie, and both of us have been heartsick about it. Of course we miss her, but we don't want him to be lonely, and . . ." She put her right hand over her heart. "Anyway. We were over the moon when Jack said he wanted to start dating you. Not only because you're you. But because he sounded so happy."

You're scared of making this real.Delia's ribs shrunk like a wool blouse that had been accidentally put through the dryer. In an instant, it was like she was a gecko on the ceiling staring down at the relationship timelines of her life. Her mom working three jobs to make sure she could pay for music lessons. Mary and Tony making her reservations and dinner arrangements and dropping everything to accompany her to Edmonton or wherever the hell else she wanted to go for a show. And now Jack. Staying the night with her. Getting the video taken down. Putting a coat on her doorstep.

Delia dropped back into herself and pressed hard against the armrests. Maybe she was scared. Because everyone around her had to love her. She was an only child, and after losing her father, she was all her mother had. She'd gotten used to being doted on. To being the apple of someone's eye. She liked it that way. Because she knew all too well that even the people who were supposed to be there for her could leave at any moment. It simply wasn't worth the risk to leave anything up to something as volatile as choice.

Leslie leaned forward. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to presume?—"

"No, it's okay." Delia shook her head and folded her napkin in her lap. "Jack is wonderful. I'm so glad we met."

The idea of stepping into a relationship without collateral sent her reeling. What if she couldn't be like her mom? Like Mary? What if she was incapable of giving like they did? She hadn't even been able to bring in enough money to keep her mother at home tending her herb garden instead of putting on a uniform and leaving the house at nine o'clock at night. What if she'd always have to pay the people around her to make sure they stayed?

The lights in the arena dimmed and the announcer's voice came over the speaker. A spotlight landed on a children's choir and the Canadian flag. They all rose for the national anthem, and Delia scanned the arena in awe.

Had there ever been a time that she'd stood in an audience as massive? Probably only at a few concerts when she was a teenager, but this was different. Then they'd been united for the love of music. Never had she felt united for a love of country.

She sang the words to their anthem in barely more than a whisper and her throat grew thick. Her emotions were wild and unleashed, and she couldn't get a grasp on the reins.

She wanted Jack.

She needed Jack.

She loved making music.

She needed her music.

And as the children's angelic voices sang God save our land, that tangled fear and need and love swelled into gratitude so big, it couldn't be contained inside her.

She loved and needed the hell out of this place she lived. This country that had embraced her mother with open arms, even if she was barely making her citizenship official. Canadians weren't people who hung flags in the beds of their trucks or who looked for opportunities to blow things up to prove they were beyond the reach of the old world. Well, except for maybe on Guy Fawkes Day . . . or Victoria Day and Canada Day in Toronto. But that was beside the point.

Canadians were generally more subtle. They tattooed the maple leaf on their wrists and hips to keep a reminder close. They put small flags on their coats and backpacks to humbly announce exactly what they stood for.

It wasn't so much a symbol of who they weren't as Canadians, but who they were.

Kind.

Tolerant.

Eternally apologetic.

Hard working, nature loving, muscle-it-out people whose national hero wasn't someone with power, influence, or money but a teenager who lost his leg and then ran halfway across Canada on a prosthetic for cancer research. Sleeping in a camping van.

Holy. Crap. Tears sprang to Delia's eyes, and she almost laughed out loud.

That was why people loved hockey.

She finally understood.

Everything Jack was trying to tell her clicked into place like her ears had finally popped after a long flight. For the first time, she got the camaraderie and physical intensity. Even the fights made sense, and that was ironically what tipped her tears over the edge. They would go to battle for their team.

Jack had gone to battle for her.

Delia's heart swelled like one of those foam animals that grew ten times their size when soaked in water. As the cheers died down and the lights came up, Delia pulled out her phone to text Jack, even though she could see him standing in his jersey with the rest of his team on the ice and knew he didn't have his phone.

"I always get emotional during the national anthem," Leslie said, noticing Delia swiping at her cheeks. Delia didn't feel the need to explain herself. She nodded and clapped as the arena erupted with cheers and the pump-up music started back up.

She slipped her phone back in her purse and hid her face as she sat. It felt wrong to have two borderline spiritual epiphanies sitting in a suite at a hockey game. Without beer and before the whistle even blew.

Yet there it was.

Her camera lens that had pointed straight at herself shifted, and suddenly it was pointing . . . everywhere else. She wanted to be like a hockey player. The skating wasn't going to happen, but she could gear up.

She would be a better friend. She'd spend more time worrying about what she could do with her platform instead of complaining about how it wasn't big enough yet. Who gave a rat's ass if someone made a fake porno of her? It had happened to so many women before her, and she needed to say something instead of shrinking back and hoping it faded into the ether of the internet.

She needed to stop being afraid and trust herself.

If you love, you love. If you hurt, you hurt.

Delia stood and cheered with the rest of Jack's family as the Blizzard won the face-off. She still didn't understand half the rules of the sport, but it was easy to take her cues from Jack's parents. As she went to sit down, Clara motioned for her to come over and join them, so she did.

They chatted through the first period. Clara filled her in on how Oscar had been insistent they drive to the south side for donairs at a place called High Voltage. After his dramatic retelling of their culinary experience, Oscar refused to let Delia get up for water until she agreed to try one on the way back to Calgary.

Midway through the period, the Blizzard had a power play. Thanks to Jack, Delia knew what that was and cheered as loud as anyone when Gaudreau snagged a pass from Tkachuk and slipped it in the left side of the net.

Jack saw his first ice directly after the goal, and Delia's whole body buzzed like it was connected to a power outlet. She silently pleaded for him to play well and not get injured, but also to not be disappointed if nothing amazing happened because he still played a solid shift, and her thoughts and pleas became so jumbled she was sure that if there was a higher power listening, he'd turned off her channel entire paragraphs before she actually got to the point.

She needn't have been worried. Jack was the glue between the offence and defence. Always breaking up the charges from the Oilers and there to receive the puck anytime the defence sent it past the blue line.

Delia screamed her voice raw when he got slammed into the boards, then cheered until she couldn't breathe when he assisted the Blizzards' second goal at the beginning of the second period.

It was two to one heading into the third. Delia thought it was probably a good time to take up a nail-biting habit, but thankfully her gels prevented her from taking the plunge. Instead, she gripped the chair arms like a cat hanging from a tree branch. When the Oilers scored in the first minute and a half, she might have left fingertip bruises on Clara's arm.

"They have to shut down Merc and Holden in the middle," Oscar muttered as he got up for another beer.

Clara kept her hands clasped and her fingers steepled as Jack skated back to the bench. "C'mon, c'mon."

Someone tapped Delia's shoulder, and she turned with the ferocity of a she-bear. "What?"

Alvin nearly stumbled as he jumped back on the stair. "Sorry. I wanted to let you know if you'd like to meet Jack after the game?—"

"Yes." Delia shot up, searching for her purse and the coat he'd given her. Jack's dad reached onto her previous seat and handed her the bundle. "Thank you. It was wonderful to meet you both." She turned, then froze midstep. "Wait . . . do you want to come, too?"

Leslie looked up. "To meet Jack?"

Delia nodded. "You said you wanted to surprise him, right?"

Clara stood and clapped her hands together. "Yes! That would be so perfect!"

Leslie and Marc grabbed their things and made sure to put their plates and cups in the garbage can before following Delia, Alvin, and Mary out the door to the private elevator.

"Are we going to miss the rest of the game?" Marc muttered to his wife behind her, and Delia smirked.

Alvin took them to an area similar to where she'd waited when she sang the national anthem in the Saddledome. They could see the ice and the player benches. Marc was as wide-eyed as a bush baby when he realized he'd get to hear the coaches and watch the shift subs.

Delia clung to Mary's hand as the minutes ticked down. The Oilers scored with less than three minutes left, and Delia's heart sank to her knees. "No! They have to win this! They can't be done just like that!" She snapped her fingers, and Alvin gave her a curious look.

"They won't be done. They'll still play again on Wednesday night."

Delia blinked. Right. Playoffs. It wasn't like her high school battle of the bands where you had one shot and then you were out. "Mmhmm. I know that. I just thought . . . it would be a lot better if they won the first game."

Mary snorted, and Delia elbowed her. The Blizzards battled to the end and even pulled their goalie in the last minute, but when the horn blasted, the score was three to two, Edmonton.

"Alright, come with me. We'll wait right outside the dressing room." Alvin and two other security guards led them to an area that would've made an excellent tornado shelter. Delia had to work to keep out thoughts of the whole arena crumbling and crushing her with concrete pillars.

Luckily, she didn't have to distract herself for long. Jack was one of the first players out of the dressing room. His hair was damp from the shower. He wore a flannel jacket over a grey T-shirt and those jeans she loved. His eyes locked onto her and his step faltered, then his chest lifted with a deep inhale. He strode toward her like he was under the impression her plane had crashed or her ship had gone down in the Atlantic.

Delia barely had time to blink before she was in his arms. She breathed him in. Freshly shampooed hair, the clean scent of his clothes and deodorant or cologne. She couldn"t tell which, only that it was different than usual.

"I"m so sorry," she breathed into his neck.

"Yeah."

She pressed her cheek into his chest, wishing she could change the last five minutes of the game. "You were incredible." A deep exhale was his only response, so Delia continued. "I wanted to text you at the beginning of the game, but I knew you wouldn"t get it."

"About how pissed you were that I didn"t tell you about my parents?"

Delia clenched her fingers against his back. "Umm no, actually about how I think I get why you love hockey so much, but now that you mention it." She pulled him close. "They don"t know you know they"re here, so please don't out me."

Jack pulled back and looked up, feigning academy-award-worthy surprise when he saw Leslie and Marc standing a few paces away. He stepped away from her to embrace his parents, and Delia immediately felt the loss of him.

She wanted to find some way to ease the hurt he had to be feeling after such a tough loss. He was probably starving. She wanted to take care of him like he'd taken care of her. Delia pulled out her phone and started searching for restaurants. They could go for food, or hadn"t Mary said something about an after-party? Though, maybe they wouldn"t be celebrating without a win. They could?—

"Hey." Jack trailed a hand up her arm, and she shivered. "You still up for watching something?"

She inspected his face, trying to get a read. Did he actually want to watch Bond movies and eat pizza or was he doing that for her?

She flicked her tongue over her lower lip. "We don't have to. If you're tired, we could grab food and then?—"

"I've been looking forward to it all day."

Delia swallowed hard and nodded. "Then I"d love to. But do you want to get food?"

"Hell yes."

She laughed and glanced past his shoulder, then lowered her voice. "What about your parents?"

He leaned in. "I told them I was exhausted and we"d spend the day together tomorrow. My mom"s setting up brunch because she knows I don"t like to get up before ten after a game."

Delia grinned. "Are you a mama"s boy?"

"Hell. Yes."