We're given the ultimate VIP treatment. I've been to games as the family of a player but this is above and beyond because the iconic Devin Garrison is coming to see his boy play. We're whisked into the media suite where Devin gives an interview with the NHL Network, and then we're shuffled through a meet-n-greet with some of the management.
Everyone looks at Devin like he's a bigger celebrity than Tom Cruise. He is a King in this sport, for sure. Callie glides along beside him with grace and an effortless smile. I take notes. I don't know how to be the partner of hockey royalty, but she does. Devin keeps her within touching distance the whole time. When he's not holding her hand, he's got a hand on her back.He always makes sure she's included in a conversation. These two have a bond like my parents. Something about that feels comforting. Conner has a good example to follow, just like me.
I know that doesn’t guarantee anything. Just like you’re not doomed to failing relationships if you don’t have a good example to follow. My dad grew up with no love and acceptance to aspire to and he’s the perfect husband and father. Because he did the work and he will be the first to tell people that.
The owners are the next group of people we meet. Two portly, middle-aged men who dress like they're on a permanent Hawaiian vacation. Even now in the dead of winter in New England, they're both in shorts and polo shirts. They're nice and welcoming, fanboying all over Devin because they grew up watching him play. They invite us to sit in their private booth with them.
Devin makes a point to introduce us all. “And this is Con’s girlfriend, Mac Larue.”
I shake both their hands, trying not to feel imposter syndrome like I shouldn't be here and that title shouldn't be said out loud. It's going to take a while, I realize, for me to settle into this role. It came out of nowhere after all.
“Very nice to meet you,” the taller of the two owners, whose names have slid in and out of my mind the minute they were said, says. “That last name is familiar.”
“Yeah my dad used to play hockey,” I say.
“Your dad?” The shorter owner blinks. Repeatedly. “He’s not Alex Larue, is he?”
"He is," I confirm and the shock isn't new. I'm a half-black, American woman only seventeen years younger than Alex, a white French Canadian. It's a total disconnect if you don't know the backstory. "I'm adopted. As is my sister Cassia."
“Oh. Wow. So like Alex… your dad is Alex. Larue. Wow.”
The other owner is chuckling and shaking his head. “Goodplayer he was. And excellent coach since then too. Didn’t he coach Conner?”
I nod and smile.
“Yeah he was an assistant coach with the Barons when they drafted Con,” Devin confirms. “He’s a good friend of mine. Former teammate. Mac was already like family so we are thrilled.”
I smile but feel weirdly self-conscious. The owners exchange a look and a grin. Why is this weird?
Luckily the national anthems are about to be sung so we can stop talking. They play Canada first since we're playing the Quebec Nationals tonight, and then the Star-Spangled Banner. I sing both because I learned the Canadian one for my dad and mom who were both born there.
The game starts and it's rough. Physically rough. The Nationals are a team that doesn't shy away from body checks. They have more brute force than refined skill. The Riptide struggle except for a few players who can handle the aggression without losing their finesse. Conner is one of those few. And he scores twice tonight, once in the first and once in the third. That and a goal by Abbott Barlow gave the Riptide three, but unfortunately, the Nationals scored four, including one intercepted off a pass from Conner. It's a tough loss, but it wasn't anything to be ashamed of, which is what Devin tells a reporter who corners him as we make our way to the friends and family lounge.
Callie stays next to me as we weave our way through the bowels of the arena. She reaches over and gives my hand a squeeze.
“I’m happy for you and Con,” she says gently, which is rare for Callie. She’s usually a bull in a China shop. “When I asked you to keep an eye on him… I’m sorry if that was weird. Or created tension.”
“Thank you but I never really gave your request a secondthought,” I say with a small, sheepish smile. “I was already looking out for him for my own selfish reasons.”
She grins. It lights up her whole face and for a brief flickering moment she looks as young as I am. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
We enter the room, which is filled with wives, children, girlfriends, the usual. I am slightly used to this from going to my dad's games years ago. Tenley drags me and Harlow to the candy table, which is laid out like a five-star buffet of sugar. Tenley grabs a plate and piles it high. Harlow gives her a hard stare. "It's for everyone."
Theo reaches in to grab a Twizzler and Harlow smacks his hand away. “You aren’t going to be drafted top ten if you’ve got a candy belly.”
He grumbles and stalks off. Tenley laughs. “Kid could eat a truck full of McDonald’s and not gain an inch.”
"Yeah, I know but how often do you get to say that to a dude," Harlow asks with a devious grin.
“Con!” Devin and Callie call out his name in unison and I smile as I watch them hug him.
He smiles but he looks a little uncomfortable, like the attention is bothering him, which isn’t a Conner I’ve ever seen before. Then his eyes land on me and slide up and down my outfit and his grin explodes like a firework. He untangles himself from his parents and marches right over to me, ruffling Theo’s hair as he passes like he’s a kid.
"Hi, princess."
I give him a wry smile. “Good game, prince.”
He wraps me in a hug and lifts me off my feet. Tenley makes an "aww" sound but Harlow tugs her away, giving us a moment alone. Well, as much as we can be alone.