Goal Lines & First Times (CU Hockey 3)

Mom wraps me in a giant hug and tries to lead me inside. “Aw, Richie, I’ve missed you.”

Back home, I hear my first name more than I ever do at school. “My bags.”

“Get them later. We haven’t seen you since Christmas.”

I feel a little guilty about that, especially being an only child, but it’s not like I don’t want to come home. If teleportation were a thing, I’d be home every weekend.

My parents are good people. They wanted more kids but couldn’t have any, so they spoiled me rotten and gave me everything they could afford. New skates, coaches, college tuition, everything, even when they’re not rolling in money.

The plan was to repay them when I made it to the NHL. Yeah, that’s not happening. I don’t know how I could ever repay them for everything they’ve done for me.

It’s late afternoon, so Mom leads me to the kitchen for coffee.

“Dad’s in the shop, I’m guessing?” I walk to the window and pull back the lace curtain, looking out over Hull’s Cove and the tiny hut we have next to a dock for boats to come get their fishing gear.

“Ayuh. We’ve had the best summer in years. He’s been busy.”

“That’s really good.”

She passes me my cup, then an extra one. “Take that to him, will you? Then come right back because I want to hear about your year and winning the Frozen Four.”

They couldn’t come down for the game because one of them had to stay back at the shop, and they don’t like to travel alone.

“I’m here for a few weeks. We have plenty of time.”

“It’s going to fly by, just you watch.”

I head out back to take Dad his coffee. He’s finishing up with a customer when I walk in.

He greets me with a handshake and a warm smile because he never was a hugger. I’m okay with that. Mom more than makes up for it.

“Mom says you’ve been busy.”

“Business has been booming. It’s been a good fishing season.”

“I’m glad.”

“Have you decided what you’re going to do after graduation?”

There it is.

“Not yet.”

Dad nods, and I’m hit with that guilt again. The thing is, I’ve only ever been good at hockey. I’m not smart. College might have been a mistake. But I can’t tell that to my parents, who’ve been supporting me all these years, sinking money into someone who doesn’t even know what their calling is.

I thought it was hockey.

Maybe it’s fishing.

If I end up coming home to become a fisherman, I will disown myself for them.

“What about that photo account you have online where you post all the NHL stats every game? Whatchamacallit?”

I try not to smile. “Instagram?”

“Yeah, could you do something with that? Become a what’sitsname.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know, an influencer thing. Is that what they’re called?”

The smile breaks through. “Yes. Influencer Thing is the official title, but my account isn’t like that. I don’t have sponsors or ads or anything. All I do is post highlights and stats when I watch a game for fun.”

“But you have a couple of thousand followers, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but I think I’d need like a hundred thousand more before I can make good money from it.”

“Oh.”

It’s cute Dad wants to help me find what I want to do, but influencer is not it. No way.

A loud “cuck-coo cuck-coo” echoes from the direction of the water.

Dad sighs. “I know what that means. See you for dinner?”

I put my half-empty coffee down. “You know it.”

I’m out the door and running down to the docks faster than my legs can take me.

There, climbing out of his jon boat, is none other than my very best friend in the whole world.

The sun shines off his short blond hair. He’s always been that tiny bit bigger than me, but he’s filled out even more than the last time I saw him. Unlike me, he did stay in town and become a fisherman. He makes good money, but it can be a dangerous job. Like, Deadliest Catch type of shit.

He’s barely got the boat tied to the dock when I hug him from behind.

Logan laughs deep and warm. “Why don’t you ever greet me like this?”

I don’t know who he’s talking to until I look in the boat and see another guy. I missed him in my excitement to get to Logan. He’s around our age, but he definitely didn’t go to school with us.

“Richie, this is Joe.”

Joe climbs out of the boat. He’s skinnier than Logan and me, but he has a nice face. Uh, for a dude.

Like it has all summer, images of Logan and me as teenagers fill my mind, and just like it has every single time, my dick responds.

Shit. Now’s not the time for that.

I try to ignore it and turn to my best friend. “Lo and Joe?”

“That’ll be on our wedding invites for sure.”