Page 188 of Slapshot Baby

We talk for a few minutes. Joan asks about the baby, about how Ava's feeling, whether she's eating enough. I answer honestly. Then I tell her there's something I'd like to do while we're visiting, and I'll need Dennis there for it.

Joan goes quiet.

"I know it's a lot to ask, but it matters."

"I'll call him. He'll come."

"Could I get his number? I'd rather call him myself."

Another pause. Then she gives it to me.

I call Dennis next. He picks up on the fourth ring.

"Dennis, it's Kai Donovan. Ava's boyfriend."

"Well." A surprised laugh, easy and warm. "This is unexpected. Is everything all right with my girl?"

"Everything's fine. Ava and I are driving to Joan's this weekend. Are you able to be there by noon on Saturday?"

"Joan's house. Sure, I can swing by." His voice lifts with enthusiasm. "What's the occasion? Is this about the baby or..."

"I'll explain when I see you."

"Now that's the kind of answer that keeps a man up at night. But all right, I'll be there."

The drive Saturday morning takes a few hours.

Ava falls asleep in the passenger seat thirty minutes in, her cheek pressed against the window. Her hand rests on her belly, fingers spread wide, and every few minutes she shifts.

I keep my eyes on the road. My pulse hasn't been fully steady since I woke up this morning.

On the ice, I know exactly who I am. The captaincy came back because I stopped waiting and started acting.

But what I'm about to do at Joan Hartley's kitchen table is different. There's no playbook for asking the family of a woman you love for permission to love her permanently.

No drill to run. No tape to review.

I'm walking in with nothing but my word and the hope that it's enough.

Joan's house sits on a quiet street, flower pots lining the porch steps, curtains open to let the morning sun in. Ava wakes when I cut the engine, blinking, disoriented.

"We're here?"

"We're here."

Joan opens the front door before we reach the porch. She's smaller than I pictured, slender and practical with short brown hair going silver.

But her eyes, grey-green and perceptive, sweep over me with the same quick thoroughness Ava uses when she's sizing up a room. The warmth in her face when she sees Ava makes her look ten years younger.

"Kai." She takes both my hands, squeezes them. Her grip is stronger than her frame suggests. "Come in. Both of you.”

She pulls Ava into a hug that lasts, her hand immediately finding the belly, pressing gently.

"Mom, you saw me three weeks ago."

"And the baby's grown since then. Come inside."

Lucy is on the couch in the living room, legs crossed, hair in a ponytail. She's wearing a sweatshirt and jeans. Her arms are crossed over her chest.