I gasp and grab Victor’s arm.
“Well, that looks like Levi. Huh? Fancy that,” Victor says nonchalantly.
I whip my head to Victor. “Did you know this?”
“Would I have come if he wasn’t on the ice?” He smirks at me.
I turn my eyes back on the ice and see Levi standing up. His number ten is bright, as is his name across his shoulders. Levi is on the ice with the Penguins in the NHL. I feel tears of happiness filling up my eyes. He skates around, shooting the puck a couple of times. He spins around and looks up in the stands. His eyes land on mine, and I blow a kiss. He smiles and skates off.
I sit back in my chair and look at Victor. “I thought you loved me?”
“I love you as if you were my own daughter,” Victor states.
“Then you should have told me.”
“Oh, I know how much you love surprises.” He bumps my shoulder.
I couldn’t be mad at Victor. I giggle at him.
Everyone skates off the ice, and I’m bouncing in my seat. I can’t wait to see Levi on the ice. Victor grabs us each a bottle of water. We sit there in silence, and I know that we both are nervous for Levi.
Finally, the lights dim, and the crowd begins to scream. Of course, they aren’t screaming for the Penguins, but I am. I’m yelling for my Levi. I know that he won’t be on the first shift, but I can see him on the bench. His face is determined and ready for the win.
Levi is on the third shift, and he’s on a great line. He’s on his game. Levi is amazing on the ice. When the buzzer ends for the first period, the score is tied at zero. Victor and I spend the intermission talking about how great Levi is doing.
It’s in the second period that Levi gets his chance. The Pens are up by two and Levi’s shift takes to the ice. He’s battling with another player for the puck. He gains possession and passes it to a teammate, but then it’s back to Levi and he takes off for the other end of the ice. Oh my God. He’s got a breakaway. This could be his first goal! The seconds pass in slow motion as I watch him approach the net with two players advancing on him.
One comes from the side, crashing into Levi as he shoots. It looks like he trips as he falls forward, the guy slamming him all the way into the boards opposite of us. The noise is deafening as the glass rattles, Levi hitting the wall awkwardly, the puck going wide. But I barely notice as I stand, my heart no longer beating.
Levi isn’t getting up. Why isn’t he getting up? Play stops and a player kneels next to him, blocking my view, as two people from the bench rush over to him. I can see a leg move and then the two men are on each side of a dazed Levi, helping him off the ice, taking him back down the tunnel.
Oh, God. His first game on his first shot at a goal, and he gets hurt. I turn to Victor, see the fear in his eyes, and I know it was as bad as it looked.
“I’m sure that he’ll be okay,” Victor says, taking my hand.
Gulping, I stupidly look at the jumbotron where Levi’s collision is on replay. I don’t have the stomach to watch the rest of this game. “Do you think they’ll tell us anything or let us see him?” I ask, worry coating my words.
“Let’s go find out.”
Chapter Ten
Levi
Ugh, my head hurts like a bitch. They just finished evaluating me, and I’ve got a fucking concussion. A concussion! It replays in my mind for the millionth time. I made a breakaway, speeding across the ice, but two guys were gaining on me. Swinging my stick back, I went to score and one of them hit me. I lost my balance, fell forward, and collided with the boards, namely my head and then everything went black. I woke up about thirty seconds later, I think. To make it even worse, my shot went wide.
I blew it.
I fucking failed big time.
My first chance to prove I could make it, and I blew it. Just then, Presley and Pops walk in. Oh, great. Not only did I fuck up my chance, but they watched me do it. I had almost forgotten they were here, and I really don’t want to talk to either of them. All I want is to go home. I’ve overstayed my welcome at this arena. That much is crystal clear. Presley rushes to give me a hug. Reluctantly, I return it.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” she whispers.
I’m not okay. I’ve got a fucking concussion from my first NHL game on my first shot. I’m nowhere close to being okay.
“Yeah, me too,” I deadpan. “Surprise,” I add in the same tone.
She pulls away with a frown on her face, but I don’t care that I’ve upset her. This was my shot and it backfired.