“The only time I find this adorable is when it’s on a girl under the age of ten and the name above the jersey number is Daddy,” I grumble through the closed bathroom door.
“We can put Daddy on it if that’s what gets you and Con off,” Tenley suggests.
“Oh my God, if you didn’t come out of my body I would swear you were Callie’s spawn,” Jessie proclaims as she shrugs into her coat and gets ready to leave my apartment.
"Don't let the woman fool you, Mac, she has her dirty secrets," Tenley tells me as I smooth my hands over the front of the jersey. "Ask her why there's a piece of countertop in the farmhouse kitchen from the seventies that she and Dad won't let anyone touch no matter how many renos we do."
Jessie Garrison smiles. It’s a smile that says everything and absolutely nothing at the same time. A smile so intense I have to fight the urge to blush and Tenley pretends to gag. Or maybe it’s not pretend. Jessie composes herself and smiles at me. “You look great Mac. You girls have fun and give Con my best. Drive safe.”
She opens the door and leaves. Tenley stares at me, rubbing her chin in thought. “We’re close. I’m gonna lend you my leather leggings and that should do it.
She grabs my coat off the bench and throws it at me. “Let’s go to my place real quick. You can change there and then we’re off to see your man play!”
My man. I smile as I lock up and let her drag me over to the farmhouse. She's right. The world knows now. Conner didn't call me by name but of course, they did ask him if he was single in that question thing they did for the Riptide's social media, and with a confident smile he said, "Nope. I'm happy to report I'm off the market."
I change into Tenley’s leather leggings, which I have to admit do wondrous things to highlight the shape of my ass and legs. And it looks really cute with Conner’s jersey, which Jessie had already ordered off the NHL website to add to their grandparents’ basement, which displays every pro jersey any Garrison or Richard has ever played in. Tenley told her I needed to wear it to the game first and Jessie agreed.
I hope this isn't overkill. I don't know how Conner's going to react. I've worn a man's hockey jersey before but it was my dad's. I used to roll my eyes at the girlfriends of players who would saunter through the VIP areas at games branded in everything they could find with their man's name on it. But… I'm smiling as I look at myself in it. God, I'm a cliché.
The journey is fun but I'm glad I'm driving so I can keep my eye on the road and not the knowing smirks and side eye being thrown my way. In my car are Tenley, Harlow, and Mae who came back from Boston College for the game. Liv had to go back to UCLA, Tenley would be there too but she's taking a semester off. The other male cousins are back on their teams, except Theo who is riding in the other car with Devin and Callie. The rest of his aunts, uncles, and grandparents have decided to attend a different game, so they don't overwhelm Conner.
We get there and I'm buzzing with nervous energy. I'm extra careful parking the Range Rover. I'm still not used to this SUV. It's bigger than any car I've owned and a literal dream with all its bells and whistles. I could get used to it if I let myself. And I'm beginning to wonder if I should let myself. My mom keeps offering to replace my car. She says I can call it an early graduation gift and for the first time in my life, I told her "maybe" instead of a flat-out no.
Because Conner's words are still bouncing around my head. My parents help me because they love me, unconditionally, and their affection and help are not a loan I have to pay back. I'm worthy of it. Stupid hockey player and his scathing voice of truth.
"Why are you smiling to yourself?" Mae asks. "Are you thinking about my brother? Oh my god, you two are like something out of a romance novel."
"She should know, she reads enough of them." Harlow rolls her eyes but loops her arm through Mae's to soften the judgment.
We're given the ultimate VIP treatment. I've been to games as the family of a player but this is above and beyond because the iconic Devin Garrison is coming to see his boy play. We're whisked into the media suite where Devin gives an interview with the NHL Network, and then we're shuffled through a meet-n-greet with some of the management.
Everyone looks at Devin like he's a bigger celebrity than Tom Cruise. He is a King in this sport, for sure. Callie glides along beside him with grace and an effortless smile. I take notes. I don't know how to be the partner of hockey royalty, but she does. Devin keeps her within touching distance the whole time. When he's not holding her hand, he's got a hand on her back. He always makes sure she's included in a conversation. These two have a bond like my parents. Something about that feels comforting. Conner has a good example to follow, just like me.
I know that doesn’t guarantee anything. Just like you’re not doomed to failing relationships if you don’t have a good example to follow. My dad grew up with no love and acceptance to aspire to and he’s the perfect husband and father. Because he did the work and he will be the first to tell people that.
The owners are the next group of people we meet. Two portly, middle-aged men who dress like they're on a permanent Hawaiian vacation. Even now in the dead of winter in New England, they're both in shorts and polo shirts. They're nice and welcoming, fanboying all over Devin because they grew up watching him play. They invite us to sit in their private booth with them.
Devin makes a point to introduce us all. “And this is Con’s girlfriend, Mac Larue.”
I shake both their hands, trying not to feel imposter syndrome like I shouldn't be here and that title shouldn't be said out loud. It's going to take a while, I realize, for me to settle into this role. It came out of nowhere after all.
“Very nice to meet you,” the taller of the two owners, whose names have slid in and out of my mind the minute they were said, says. “That last name is familiar.”
“Yeah my dad used to play hockey,” I say.
“Your dad?” The shorter owner blinks. Repeatedly. “He’s not Alex Larue, is he?”
"He is," I confirm and the shock isn't new. I'm a half-black, American woman only seventeen years younger than Alex, a white French Canadian. It's a total disconnect if you don't know the backstory. "I'm adopted. As is my sister Cassia."
“Oh. Wow. So like Alex… your dad is Alex. Larue. Wow.”
The other owner is chuckling and shaking his head. “Good player he was. And excellent coach since then too. Didn’t he coach Conner?”
I nod and smile.
“Yeah he was an assistant coach with the Barons when they drafted Con,” Devin confirms. “He’s a good friend of mine. Former teammate. Mac was already like family so we are thrilled.”
I smile but feel weirdly self-conscious. The owners exchange a look and a grin. Why is this weird?
Luckily the national anthems are about to be sung so we can stop talking. They play Canada first since we're playing the Quebec Nationals tonight, and then the Star-Spangled Banner. I sing both because I learned the Canadian one for my dad and mom who were both born there.
The game starts and it's rough. Physically rough. The Nationals are a team that doesn't shy away from body checks. They have more brute force than refined skill. The Riptide struggle except for a few players who can handle the aggression without losing their finesse. Conner is one of those few. And he scores twice tonight, once in the first and once in the third. That and a goal by Abbott Barlow gave the Riptide three, but unfortunately, the Nationals scored four, including one intercepted off a pass from Conner. It's a tough loss, but it wasn't anything to be ashamed of, which is what Devin tells a reporter who corners him as we make our way to the friends and family lounge.
Callie stays next to me as we weave our way through the bowels of the arena. She reaches over and gives my hand a squeeze.
“I’m happy for you and Con,” she says gently, which is rare for Callie. She’s usually a bull in a China shop. “When I asked you to keep an eye on him… I’m sorry if that was weird. Or created tension.”
“Thank you but I never really gave your request a second thought,” I say with a small, sheepish smile. “I was already looking out for him for my own selfish reasons.”
She grins. It lights up her whole face and for a brief flickering moment she looks as young as I am. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
We enter the room, which is filled with wives, children, girlfriends, the usual. I am slightly used to this from going to my dad's games years ago. Tenley drags me and Harlow to the candy table, which is laid out like a five-star buffet of sugar. Tenley grabs a plate and piles it high. Harlow gives her a hard stare. "It's for everyone."
Theo reaches in to grab a Twizzler and Harlow smacks his hand away. “You aren’t going to be drafted top ten if you’ve got a candy belly.”
He grumbles and stalks off. Tenley laughs. “Kid could eat a truck full of McDonald’s and not gain an inch.”
"Yeah, I know but how often do you get to say that to a dude," Harlow asks with a devious grin.
“Con!” Devin and Callie call out his name in unison and I smile as I watch them hug him.
He smiles but he looks a little uncomfortable, like the attention is bothering him, which isn’t a Conner I’ve ever seen before. Then his eyes land on me and slide up and down my outfit and his grin explodes like a firework. He untangles himself from his parents and marches right over to me, ruffling Theo’s hair as he passes like he’s a kid.
"Hi, princess."
I give him a wry smile. “Good game, prince.”
He wraps me in a hug and lifts me off my feet. Tenley makes an "aww" sound but Harlow tugs her away, giving us a moment alone. Well, as much as we can be alone.
"You okay?" I ask because he's got the faintest crease on his forehead.
“Long story, but that pass they intercepted is gonna haunt me. Coach is pissed about it.” He sighs and then his eyes find mine with a glimmer of hope in them. “Can I kiss you? That will help.”
I lean in and we kiss softly. It’s PG but Theo still groans like he walked in on his parents naked. I laugh and pull away. Conner wraps an arm around me, tipping his head to whisper into my neck. “You still good to stay over? I rented us a room at the cutest oceanfront motel near the town where I’m staying.”
“Yeah. Ten and Harlow are going to get a ride home with your parents,” I explain. “I have a change of clothes and my toothbrush in a knapsack in the car.”
He grins and nuzzles my neck, setting my skin on fire. “You won’t need a change of clothes. I’m not letting you take that jersey off. But everything else can go.”
And now everything else is on fire too, not just my cheeks.