8. Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Keyshaun

The Schaffer Salt Arena was lit.

Game seven of the finals. The intensity in our small arena—in comparison to bigger venues, our eight to nine-thousand-seater was tiny—was palpable. I'd only recently come into this sport having set up a business where a hockey team was located and now I'm dating one of those players, so I had no clue hockey fans were this rabid. It was chaos, loud, madness, and amazing.

I could barely hear Tanner speaking to me as the Gladiators were about to take to the ice for this deciding game.

Everyone was up, the thumping pump-up music vibrating the very concrete under our feet.

"We play until we have a winner," Tanner shouted beside my ear. I nodded in understanding. I'd just watched a brutal NBA finals series that went to game seven. "If we win, I might get called down to the ice."

"You better!" I yelled back, grinning at him among a horde of fans and family members of the players. He'd been invited to the owner's box but had chosen to get us some seats among the players' spouses and close family. Just about an entire section, five rows behind the Gladiators' bench was cheering on their loved ones.

"I wish I was down there with them," he said, his words getting lost as the volume rose, but the yearning in his gaze was unmistakable. I leaned over to press my lips to his hairy cheek. That eased a bit of his sadness. It had to be a crazy mixture of joy and loss for him. He'd devoted so much to this team, not just this season, but for close to twenty years, and he was sidelined.

"They wish you were too," I managed to reply right before the roof about lifted off the rink. The Gladiators' song began to play. Everyone in gold, red, and black was stomping along to the killer beat, bellowing the words, and then erupting when the team hit the ice. Tanner looked so proud as he clapped madly. Rather like a father watching his children leap onto stage or step up to bat. He loved these men, this game, and this sport. I prayed he could find something he loved as much as hockey to fill his time when he hung up his skates. Whenever that may be.

Rudy and Wade, a charming Asian man with the sweetest smile, sat on Tanner's left, and I was on his right. Behind us were most of the sig others that I had come to know from my time with Tanner. Henri returned to his seat on my right, carrying a box of caramel corn and a giant cup of soda. He was dressed casually. A white sweater over a red shirt and ebony slacks. Everyone else was in Gladiators jerseys or hoodies, but for Henri that was dressed down. The Boulder Badgers in their slate gray and blue away sweaters—a term for a jersey that I'd been informed of by the sexy man on my left—skated out to boos.

"They got any pretzels left?" I asked as the arena announcer asked everyone to remain standing and remove their hats.

"Several hundred. Would you like me to go back and get you one?" Henri asked. The singer down on the ice began to belt out the national anthem. Once it was over, I replied to Henri.

"I'll get us some. You sit. Hey, I need some pretzels," I told Tanner, who was deep in conversation with Wade. Rudy was bundled up in so many coats and blankets all you could see was the top of his cherry red head and his pink nose. "Who wants some soft pretzels?"

"Oh me," Tanner said before digging into his back pocket. I waved him off.

"You can get the next food run bill," I said as I took the order for eight pretzels and a cup of cocoa.

"How about eight pretzels and four cups of cocoa," Tanner shouted over the din of excited fans as the players on the ice skated to the Gladiators' logo at center ice. I glanced down at Liam in the net. He was rocking back and forth, just slightly, his attention seemingly on the faceoff about to take place.

"Okay, and what do the others want?" I teased my date. Tanner chuckled. I climbed over Henri, taking care not to scuff my sneakers over his fancy dress slacks. Two of the players' wives called me over and I lost about ten minutes talking to them about my aerobics walking classes. They were interested in signing up next fall when they returned from Canada with their husbands. I gave them some business cards and took a moment to watch the Badgers make a run at the Gladiators net which was met with a poke check from Liam that sent the puck into the corner where Carson, the captain, cleared out of the Gladiators zone. The whistles blew for icing, so I scurried off to get some pretzels, one of my weaknesses, and some hot drinks.

As I was making my way to the pretzel stand, my phone buzzed in the front pocket of my jeans. I hiked the hem of my LaBrie #6 sweater—an unexpected gift from Tanner that he'd given me with a few dozen kisses when he had picked me up tonight—out of the way to find my phone. The video call was from Etta. I slipped into a long line as my sister opened our conversation with a whimper.

"Why do they never sleep?" Etta asked as a baby cooed in the background.

"I told you all them jalapeno poppers you wolfed down while carrying the boys would have consequences."

"I blame you," she parried, yawned, and moved one baby to her shoulder. She held the phone up at a terrible angle. She looked exhausted.

"I only went to get them when Lionel couldn't. If you want someone to blame, I'd say blame the man who helped make them, not the innocent sibling delivering the poppers."

"I'm blaming everyone from God right down to Mama for making me have a uterus," Etta replied with more sass than I'd have expected from someone with such huge bags under their eyes. "Where the hell are you? What's all the yelling about?"

I went to my toes to try to see the ice, but I couldn't. Hopefully, I didn't miss a Gladiators goal.

"At the hockey game," I told her as I moved up a step closer to the pretzels. Mm, I may need some cheese to dip them into. Sure, I knew soft pretzels weren't exactly nutritious, but a man had to treat himself now and again. "Hey, if they win, they're going to hold a parade, I imagine. Think we could enter a float?"

"In two days? Has finding a new boyfriend turned your brains to mush?" One of the baby's gurgled. I needed to get over and snuggle my nephews tomorrow if not sooner. Traveling and dating were cutting into baby hug time. "No, we can't make a damn float in two days."

"Could be three." I took another step closer. "Maybe four."

"Keyshaun, I don't have time to shower, let alone make a float for some hockey bowl game."

"Woman, you blaspheme. It's not a bowl game, it's the cup game."

"The only cups I care about are the two swollen ones in my bra."

"Okay, I do not want to hear about your boobs. I'll leave you off the float committee roster then. So why did you call me?" I moved ahead a foot. Another cheer rolled around the food stands like a tsunami of sound. "Damn it."

"I called to see if you were doing anything tomorrow, but you already said you were coming over. Mama and Uncle Devon are bringing her lasagna and his sponge cake. Lionel will be here. I may be sleeping through the visit, no offense. Also, while I'm thinking about it, why don't men have to lactate? I could use a spare hand. Or teat."

"I don't know. Something about an apple in a garden maybe? Ask Mama. I'll have to see what happens with hockey. If the team wins…well, I don't know what they'll be doing. If they lose, I might just chill with him."

"Please, anyone who tastes Mama's lasagna perks up instantly no matter what, win or lose. Tell him he has to come. I said so. He's scared of me."

"Everyone is scared of you, Etta." I stepped up to the counter. "Eight pretzels, hot cheese dipping sauce in the jumbo cup, and four hot chocolates, please," I said to the frazzled purple-haired pretzel seller behind the counter. His striped smock was smeared with cheese, he had salt granules stuck to his eyebrows, and he appeared to be one more order away from laying down on the ground to weep. I'd make sure to tip the guy well. Working with the public was a joyless job at times. I knew that all too well.

"Are you feeding the whole hockey team?" she asked as a little baby burped loudly. "There we go, now you'll sleep. God, let him sleep."

"No, just Tanner and three others. Do not say a word. I like pretzels. I'll run them off tomorrow." The crowd booed. Uh-oh. "I should get my food and get back to the game. I'll let you know about tomorrow. Try to get some rest, honey."

"I'm going to try. Lionel has the other one, whatever his name is, rocking in the nursery, so God willing they'll both nod off for a few hours. I would stab a bitch for a shower and a nap."

"Try not to stab anyone. I love you. Kiss those boys for me."

"I will. And I love you too. Go make hockey." She blew me a kiss. The screen went blank.

The crowd roared. I paid for my food, swept up the boxes containing pretzels and cocoa, and dashed to the nearest stairwell. Scanning the ice, I couldn't see much, but I took a second to watch the scoreboard and saw a late hit on Liam when he was behind the net trying to get the puck. The refs were all huddled together as Carson and someone for the Badgers were milling around the men in black and white. Liam seemed fine. Mad as hell, but fine. Greck was in front of Liam, his hand on his chest, talking him down. Well, Greck was talking up, but he was also talking down. I hurried to our seats.

"You missed some shit," Tanner told me as I stepped around Henri to pass out hot chocolate and pretzels. "We almost scored. Then Greck got into a conversation with the Badgers captain that ended in Greck curtsying center ice. The Badgers' captain took a swing. He missed. Greck, thank God, let him come at him without retaliating. The Badgers got a penalty and during the penalty, Wilts, one of the Badgers' defense took Liam out while he was in the trapezoid, which got him into a tussle with DJ, who got called for roughing while the asshole who railroaded our goalie got nothing. I wish I was down there. Wilts would be too busy looking over his shoulder to plow into a goalie."

"Wow, I did miss a lot." I sat down, tore off a hunk of pretzel after settling my cocoa between my sneakers on the floor, and dunked my chunk of salty goodness into my cup of cheese. "Looks like DJ is having words."

"Yeah, he has his number, don't you worry. I mentored him well." Tanner ripped off a piece of pretzel like a lion tearing off the hindquarters of a kill. Talk about passion. It made me kind of stiff in the boxers, to be honest. I shifted just enough to take the pressure off my cock. Tanner LaBrie was slowly turning all my knobs to high flame. "Thanks for the food. Oh, okay, here we go. They had better have decided on a penalty for someone in gray, or I might just have to step onto the ice to settle a few scores. I have a cane, and I know how to use it."

That made me snicker.

"Excuse us, I think we are on the other side of Tanner?" I looked up to see a small group of incredibly good-looking people. Three men, a woman, and a teen boy of about sixteen or so.

"I was wondering where you were," Tanner said, easing to stand.

"Our flight out of Pittsburgh was delayed due to storms," the pretty blonde woman informed us.

"Yeah, the east coast is stormy this time of year," Tanner replied. "Key, this is Liam's family. His mother and father and brother." The woman smiled and yes, I could see the similarity between her and our goalie. "And his uncles Mike and Bryn." I shook all the men's hands as the crowd around us began to shift. Fans and family were closing in around the handsome dark-haired man in a sleek designer coat. Fans were calling out ‘Bryn! Bryn!' and said good-looking man lifted a hand to the chanting Gladiators' backers. "Bryn used to play for the Ravens as a goalie. He was okay," Tanner teased with a wink.

"I made do," Bryn said as his gaze went to the scoreboard. "Oh, that's going to ruffle a few feathers. I'm assuming the Gladiators will argue for goaltender interference, but the Badger player was attempting to move between Liam and the boards when the incidental contact occurred. That will not be seen as a penalty, even though I would certainly argue for it as well." We sat there, quiet, as the referee addressed the crowd with the exact same explanation to the fans Bryn had just made. The booing grew in intensity but play was moving on without a call.

"Wow, you do know the game," I said and got a concurring nod from a blond man with eyes the same green as Liam's.

Everyone shook hands and then Liam's family found their seats.

The jeering grew. The refs were called bad names. Tanner was furious, so I fed him another pretzel. Bryn was shown on the scoreboard and the arena went wild with applause.

"So, I take it Liam's uncle was a big thing," I whispered beside Tanner's ear.

"Oh yeah, huge star. Won the Vezina, took the Ravens to a couple Stanley Cup wins, captured best-dressed player in the NHL like ten years in a row."

"Ah, that sounds like something big. He's handsome and all, but he ain't got nothing on you." I nipped at his earlobe. His nose turned bright red.

"Are you trying to seduce me, Mr. Williams?"

"Is it working?"

"Yeah, it really is." He shoved his spare coat into his lap. I leaned back in my seat, pleased to see that I had that kind of profound effect on him. God knows he made me hot with just a look.

Deciding that sitting in a packed hockey rink with a raging hard-on would not be cool, I turned my attention back to the game. Things started to get a little rougher after that incidental contact with Liam. The checks were harder, the elbows higher, and the tempers shorter. Leading the charge was Greck, the mouth almighty, who in the space of ten minutes had taunted one of the Badgers into taking a swing that put the Gladiators on a power play. A foolish mistake for the Badgers, Tanner informed me.

"Our power play is insanely good," he bragged.

My knowledge of hockey, and what made things good or bad was limited, but I could understand the basic advantage of having one more player than the other team. The Gladiators were like a swarm of hornets with a one-man advantage. They moved into the Boulder offensive zone in a tight cloud and began shooting at the goalie from every angle. Left, right, center. The passing and shooting were intense. I fought to keep up with the puck as it was being shuttled around with such high speed. The four Badgers were throwing themselves in front of pucks. One got a slapshot off the ankle that dropped him like a bag of bricks. And yet, after a second, he somehow got back to his skates. That there was some dogged determination. Sadly, his delay in getting up opened up a small hole in the defenders and Carson found a slot. Right in front of the Badgers' goalie. He parked his big body there and then, when Deandre took a shot from the blue line, Carson lifted his stick just enough to deflect the puck over the goalie's left hand. It hit the back of the netting. The red light lit. The Schaffer Salt Arena shook from the cheers.

"Holy shit!" I yelled while pumping my fist into the air. "Holy shit that was epic!"

Tanner swept me into his arms and kissed me so hard I nearly blacked out. I didn't though and clung to him as his lips moved over mine. When we broke apart, panting, I stared into his hazel eyes. Oh boy, there was fire in his gaze.

"Holy shit," I whispered. "I hope they score a few more goals."

"Hockey makes me horny," Tanner confided with a devilish grin before releasing me. Everyone in our row was gawking and smirking. Tanner blushed as he sat back down. I took my seat, wobbly from that smooch, and took a sip of lukewarm cocoa.

"You will find that a good game will get you all kinds of benefits in the bed," Henri confided, leaning over to share that naughty secret, before returning to nibbling on a cold pretzel.

Good to know. "And if they lose?" I dared to ask as the first period ticked down and then ended.

"Then you will be massaging shoulders and bruised egos."

Ah, also good to know. "Okay, my treat this time. Who wants what from the food stands?" Tanner yelled as he pushed to his feet. Criswell and Pastor Gabe went with him to help carry the large amount of food. Bryn was mobbed by fans and the local press. I watched Tanner making his way up the stairs as fans shouted or high-fived him, slowly, with his cane, his face alight with joy. It was obvious he adored this game, this town, and these fans. I had no idea what the future held for his return to hockey, but I hoped I would be present to share it with him, no matter what road his path took.

"Okay, what the hell is going on here now?" I yelled to be heard over the deafening crowd. Tanner pointed at the scoreboard. The Gladiators had somehow held onto that one goal lead through the second and third periods. The clock read a minute forty and the Badgers' goalie had left his net. Just skated off, leaving it wide open as some other Badgers took his place, only not in the goal. Had they all lost their marbles?!

"They're getting an extra attacker on the ice to try to score a goal to take the game to overtime. Buckle up, baby, this is going to be the most intense thing you've ever experienced outside of your bedroom."

Well, damn. I was down for that. The puck was dropped. The Gladiators went on the defensive, doing their all to keep the puck from Liam in goal. I joined in the bellowing when the Badgers crowded around the net, poking and prodding at a puck in front of Liam. Bodies were shoved, checked, and swatted. Men fought like wild hyenas. The Badgers were well named, for they dug in around the Gladiators' net and would not budge, a six-pack of snarling beasts that were now beyond desperate as the clock ticked past forty seconds remaining.

Somehow, and I will never know how, Liam managed to swat the puck free from the madness around his net before someone fell on him. The puck slid to the waiting stick of Phil Greco, who took a shot from the far end of the ice. Everyone in the Schaffer Salt Arena was on their feet, eyes glued to that little frozen bit of rubber as it slid almost nonchalantly down the ice and into the empty net. Everyone in the rink lost their shit. The red light flashed. The Gladiators' goal horn sounded so loud it made my ears cringe. Tanner swept me into his arms, his mouth coming down over mine, and I held on for dear life. His tongue swept into my willing mouth, the kiss so demanding and fierce that I lost touch with the chaos around us. All I knew was this moment, his lips on mine, as madness erupted.

"Holy shit!" I gasped when we came up for air. Tanner held me tight, his eyes bright with so many emotions I couldn't keep track. Joy, sadness, and lust.

"It's going to be one hell of a night," Tanner told me before taking one more bone-melting kiss. We high-fived everyone around us and remained standing. The players in red, black, and gold were electrified. Liam was moving to and fro in his crease, stick tapping on the ice, as the puck was dropped yet again. This time there were five to each side, with the Badgers' goalie back in his net. We all watched spellbound as the Gladiators played balls to the wall defense, keeping the Badgers in their own zone until the clock was rolling down to the final four seconds. Three seconds. Two seconds. One second. The buzzer sounded. The fans lost their minds. Red, black, and gold confetti fell from the rafters as the players on the ice fell on Liam at mid-ice. The rest of the Gladiators rolled over the bench like a wave of sheer joy. I turned to Tanner and saw him weeping. Partly, I assumed, in happiness and partly perhaps in loss. He'd not been down there to share in the revelry. I took his hand. He pulled his sight from the men on the ice, celebrating a hard-won victory to look at me.

"You won," I shouted over the din.

"Yeah, they did."

"No, baby, you did. They won because of how hard you played to help them get here." He seemed unconvinced. Then someone from security arrived to escort him to the ice. That made his melancholy lift. "Go, get with them boys. We'll meet up in a bit." I kissed his scarred knuckles.

"I'm so glad you're here." He gave my fingers a squeeze. The path to the exit was a long one for him as every fan within touching distance wanted to slap his back, shake his hand, or get him to sign something. When he paused at the top of the long concrete stairs, he looked down at me. I waved. He smiled and raised a hand, his face alight.

"Welcome to the Gladiators' family," Henri yelled as the lights rolled round and round. Down on the ice, the losers were shaking hands with the winners. I loved that. Good sportsmanship was a dying thing in this world. If you lose, you lose with grace and dignity. If you win, the same.

We waited for the Badgers to leave the ice. A long red carpet was rolled out as the Gladiators milled about near their bench. I spied Tanner as soon as he hit the ice as did his teammates. They moved in mass to swallow him up, leading him to the bench where he shook hands with the coaching staff as the big silver cup was carried to the ice where it was placed on a long table with a black cloth covering. The press was everywhere, cameras snapping images, some trying to speak with the Gladiators.

The crowd clapped when an older man in a blue suit emerged from the dark recesses of the rink. He had some thank you speeches to make to the owners, the city, the team, etc. Carson met him at the table, the captain and the older man exchanged a few words as they both lifted the cup from the table. Flashbulbs popped off by the hundreds. The fans cheered loudly when Carson hoisted the silver trophy over his head. He moved to his team then, and every player on the roster closed in around him. They all touched the trophy, even Tanner, who was so emotional that he was unable to speak properly when a young lady with a microphone tried to pull him aside for an interview.

Then it was over. On the ice anyway. Everyone in our small group filed out of the stands, heading to a waiting area where we milled around, talking and being fed lovely little sandwiches and chips while the team met with the press in the locker room. Our little suite was warm, friendly, and packed full of loved ones, from grandmothers to newborns. Henri led me through the crowd and introduced me as Tanner's boyfriend, a term that we'd not really broached yet. I shook hands, passed out business cards, and ate far too many finger sandwiches.

When the players finally emerged, all in ball caps toting them as the Calder Cup Champions, Tanner found me among the crowd. I broke free from Pastor Gabe to wrap myself around my…well, my date for the night, I supposed, but dang, this man felt like more than a mere date.

"Congratulations," I said as we hugged it out.

"Thanks. There's a party at the marina if you want to go?" He held me to his side, his cane in his other hand. I noticed his limp was pronounced now. Too long on his healing leg. I suspected he would hang in with the other players late into the night as was his due as part of the winning team. He bent down to put his cheek to mine. "Truth be told, my knee is killing me. If you're not too upset, we can split now, use my old age as an excuse, and maybe celebrate privately somewhere?"

"My place?" I knew Rudy and Wade would be at his house. "But only if I get a hat."

He plunked his down on my head. "Yeah, let's go to your place and pop open a bottle of sparkling water and have our own celly."

Now that sounded way more promising than more finger sandwiches.