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“That’s not what you said last night. There was a whole lot naked ‘I love you’s’ last night.”
“That’s just because I felt bad for you because your team lost,” she teases as I keep my arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders. “But I changed my mind. After today I think I hate you.”
“Just a little payback.” I smile, turning the brim of my baseball cap around so I can properly kiss my girl. “Way to go, baby.” I kiss her soft lips. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Her chin rests on my chest as she looks up at me.
“Congrats, Logie,” Cam chimes in.
“Thanks for coming, Cami. You didn’t have to do that.”
“You came to all my home games this year and my graduation yesterday. Of course, I was going to be here.”
“Are you Eli Maddison?” a small voice asks.
I turn around to find a little boy, maybe around ten years old, standing next to us with a pen and paper in hand. “Can I get your autograph?”
I look back to Logan, feeling bad. This is her day, but she has a bright beaming smile on her lips, the same as she does anytime someone asks for my autograph.
“Sure thing.” I bend down, getting eye-level with him. “What’s your name?”
“Nathan.”
“Do you play hockey, Nathan?” I take his pen and paper, writing a quick note with my signature.
“Yeah,” he quietly says.
“What position are you?”
“I’m a goalie.”
“You’re a goalie, huh?” I ask, impressed. “That must mean you’re pretty brave.”
His pale cheeks turn pink as he nods in agreement.
“Are you a Minnesota fan?”
“Yeah. But I like the Raptors, too.”
“Oh yeah? Do you know who Evan Zanders is?”
“Yeah,” he laughs. “He fights a lot.”
“He does, doesn’t he? Well, he’s one of my best friends.”
“Really?” The boy’s eyes go wide. “That’s so cool!”
“Alright, honey.” His mom puts a hand on Nathan’s shoulder. “Let’s not keep him too long. Thank you so much,” she tells me with sincerity. “He’s a huge fan.”
“No problem.” I hold my fist out for the boy. “Nice to meet you, Nathan.”
“I don’t think that’ll ever get old,” Marc sighs once they’re out of earshot.
“It’s just because we are in the state of hockey. No third liner from any other team would get recognized in public. We get more attention than basketball or football here. It’s weird.”
“I think it’s cool.” Logan slides her arm around my waist.
“Bertoli.” I hold my fist out as Ali approaches. “Congrats.”
