Get Pucked

44. reunion

PARKER

EIGHT MONTHS LATER

After yet another win, the boys and I cheer as we leave the ice and make our way back to the locker room. Home wins are always way more rewarding, especially when our staff lines the hall to congratulate us by yelling, playing music, and setting up a healthy snack table.

Tonight was even more special, though, because we played Denver, meaning one of my best friends is also in the building.

As soon as I get to my locker, I slyly check my phone, the same thing I've done after every game before I even think of undressing.

Like normal, my post-win high falls a bit when I see the screen.

Mom: Great game hun!

Dad: You're playing great, keep it up. Tell Connor we say hello.

Brooks: you talented mother fucker, see you next week (I'm not letting you score on me)

That's it.

Up until last month, Dakota would text me after every game. I have no idea why she stopped, but it still hurts whenever I don't see her name.

Even though it has been almost a year since our split, I still feel it every day. When I am in the kitchen, I'm reminded of that day she came over to the hockey house and taught me to make cookies. When I go home, I remember the short weekend we spent together there, and I can't even sleep in my bed anymore because it's where she told me she loved me for the first time. Worst of all, when I play hockey, I can not help but picture her behind the bench, same as she was for every home game I played at Michigan.

I have not seen her since she came up to Seattle last year, though it's not for lack of trying. We only played in Nashville once this year, and it was on Thanksgiving.

Standing in front of Sweet Exchange feels surreal. Sure, I've stalked this place online for months, but knowing that Dakota spends almost every day in this exact building is freaking me out more than I'd like to admit.

Yesterday was Thanksgiving, so as much as I've been trying to stay indifferent, I am also going to be devastated if she is not here.

Pushing those thoughts aside, I force myself to move forward and through the open door.

"Welcome in," an older woman greets me from behind the counter. "You're here at the perfect time, we just pulled most everything out of the oven."

I nod politely, only slightly embarrassed of the fact that I came in five minutes after opening, too eager to wait any longer.

Spinning in a slow circle, I take everything in, needing a second to calm myself down. When I make it back around, a young girl, no older than sixteen, stares at me curiously, standing in the same spot the older woman once was.

"Do I know you?" She blurts out.

"Uh," I push my hair back. "Maybe? I play hockey."

"For who?"

"Seattle."

Her eyes widen for a moment. "I'm Gemma," she holds a hand out to me.

I return the gesture carefully, not knowing where this is going. "Parker."

"Oh my god," she gasps, turning towards the door I assume leads to a back room. "Marie, he came!"

The older woman, who I have now learned is Marie, comes back out. "Are you sure it's him?"