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“Thanks, Dad. I didn’t do much.”
“Yes, you did. You assisted on the game-winning goal. For someone who just played half their normal ice time, that’s pretty impressive.”
I know he’s right, but I’m hard on myself. Especially right now, when losing a game means my college career is over. Not to mention that I know NHL scouts are watching. They might not be in the arena, but they’re streaming the games the same way my dad watched from Indiana.
“Do you know who you have next?” he asks through the phone.
“Not yet. I’m still waiting for the rest of today’s game results to come through.”
“Logan, how did your business management test go the other day?”
“Great. Killed it,” she adds with the self-assurance she’s recently developed and unquestionably deserves.
Her confident response makes the proud smile on my lips grow even larger.
“That’s our girl,” my dad adds, using his favorite phrase.
Let me just clear the air here. Logan is my girl. But she’s also my family’s, and they’re hers. And I fully appreciate it when my dad or stepmom says this to her. It’s a reminder to Logan where she belongs—with us. With me.
“Alright, I’ll let you two go. Love you guys. EJ, proud of you, son.”
“Thanks, Dad. Talk to you soon.”
“Bye, Jack,” Logan adds before ending the call.
“EJ!” Marc calls out, turning the corner into Logan’s dorm. “First of all, nice game, but did you hear that Ohio State lost?”
“What? That can’t be right.”
They’re ranked right below us, which means they would’ve lost to a team who barely made a playoff spot, not to mention that game would have been on Ohio’s home ice.
“Yeah, man. They lost in a shootout.” Marc holds up his phone from the doorway, trying to show me the score. He’s attempting to contain his smile, but as a true Minnesota fan, he can’t hide the satisfaction of our school rival getting knocked out so early.
“Shit,” I breathe out, not sure what emotion I’m feeling. Part of me is stoked. Fuck Ohio State, and I’m glad there’s no potential to meet up with them down the road. But another part of me feels bad for my newly acquired friend. If the roles were reversed and my college career just ended in a round one loss at home, I’d be a fucking mess.
“I should text Zanders.” I pat my pockets, looking for my phone.
I can’t seem to find it, so I stand and continue to search through my suit, coming up empty.
“Fuck. I think I left my phone in my locker stall,” I tell Logan when the realization hits me. “I gotta go back and get it.”
“I’ll go back with you.” She grabs her jacket from the closet.
“Marc?”
“Nah, I’m gonna stay here. But do you guys want to go to dinner tonight? Just the three of us.”
I can see the sadness in his eyes as he reminds us that he needs time away from Ali without spelling it out completely.
“That sounds great,” Logan answers for us. “You pick the place.”
When we make it back to the arena, I’m stoked to find it completely empty. It’s not very often that I get the space to myself during the season, especially playoffs. The rink is usually swarming with excited fans or staff, eager to get a feel of the post-season buzz.
“Want to see my locker room?” I ask Logan as I hold the door handle, waiting for her reply.
“Can I? Is that allowed?”
“Of course. No one else is here.”
