Pucking the Grumpy Goalie Bonus Scene

Aiyana

FIVE YEARS LATER

“Wave to Daddy as he goes by,” I urge Luciana and Jean-Paul as the Zamboni comes by. Luciana is four years old with a crown of glossy dark brown curls and large mahogany doe eyes, and she stands on a green carpeted bench next to me within arm’s reach if she gets too feisty and tries to jump down.

Jean-Paul sits on my hip, gumming her giraffe teething toy, his head a messy, nearly-black mane like his daddy’s. I’m constantly carrying a little comb around in my purse, trying to keep his thick, unruly locks in order.

“Bonjour, mes enfants!” Jean-Claude greets coming to a stop along the wall of the rink closest to us. I can smell the freshness of the new ice and feel the chill of the air coming off the Olympic-sized rink.

The big beast of a man with his cowboy hat and neatly trimmed beard and tattoos running down the side of his neck sits atop the resurfacer proudly. He shoots me a warm look, no doubt remembering how at least one of our two babies was conceived atop that very chair. “And good morning, mon amour. You look good enough to eat.”

My cheeks flush, and he smiles wickedly. I know I was last night. Nodding toward his EarPods, I ask. “JPEGMafia?”

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“Kendrick Lamar,” he replies with an ear-to-ear grin as he admires me.

“I should have known.”

“Let me finish what I’m doing, Snowflake, and then I’ll come greet you properly, the way a husband greets his wife.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” I say, sassily remembering the first time I stood like this at the side of the rink wall talking to the grumpy ice man, so caught up in his own little world of music and resurfacing the ice. I thought he’d never admit he found me attractive, let alone that he had feelings for me. But a lot has changed since that fateful night five years ago.

After Jean-Claude’s big win with the Desperadoes, he went on to the champions with them where they clinched the big win, and he restored his name and hockey legacy. Watching my husband find his confidence again and become the man I always knew he should be was amazing to see. And all the time knowing, no matter, he always would have a home between my arms pressed against my heart.

Not long after, I retired from competitive figure skating as a full-time occupation, although I still perform regularly and compete on occasion. But the quads took a massive toll on my body, pushing me to look for new ways to express my artistry and live the life I created for myself on the ice. As I integrated other interests into my life, including yoga, Sports Medicine, and teaching figure skating, I’ve started developing a new methodology and mindset for training champions, one that’s taken me all the way to the Olympics as a coaching member of Team USA figure skating.

Do I ever wish I’d done things differently? To stand on the podium myself at the Olympics? Absolutely not. I was being worked into the ground by my abusive mom and teacher, neither of whom cared about me as a person. They made that abundantly clear by abandoning me after my injuries. Apart from one awkward phone call with Coach Sikorsky, I’ve never heard from him again. And through the grapevine, I know that Mom’s drinking has gotten out of hand, so out of hand that I won’t let her be around Jean-Claude, me, or our children.

Things are the same when it comes to Jean-Claude’s father, a man who pushed him mercilessly to be the best in the world but was never there to see his son truly fulfill his potential. The impact of a father who loves so conditionally is difficult to watch on their son, and I fully credit it for Jean-Claude’s lack of confidence when we first got together, even more than his experiences in Beijing.

But I could not ask for a more loving and attentive husband and father than Jean-Claude. The way he dotes over our children, his actions filled with patience and affection make me want to have ten more children with him. Between that and our five rescue cats, he’s in the midst of an addition to our cabin. Two years ago, he and I had the opportunity to purchase the Alpha Ridge Creek Ice Rink from Warren due to his poor health. And we have turned it into everything the man originally envisioned. The Desperadoes are acclaimed nationally as are the budding team of figure skaters that I work with. And thanks to my grumpy goalie, we are known for having the best ice and skate-sharpening facilities in the region, even if no one knows what goes on in the supply room or after-hours.

Jean-Claude acts as assistant coach for the Desperadoes’ goalies because he doesn’t want to travel too much or be away from his family. And he and Esa have pioneered a mindset program that hockey teams across the nation are starting to champion. Esa has stepped up as the grandfather our babies need, a stern, though affectionate, Finnish hockey player whose face lights up every time he greets Luciana and Jean-Paul. And the Desperadoes teammates, their wives, and their children have become our new found family, making us feel loved, cared for, and supported in all ways.

After retiring the Zamboni, Jean-Claude finds us, greeting us with hugs and kisses. “And what is my gorgeous wife up to today?” he asks in his deep, grumbly voice, his dark eyes attentive and love-filled.

“The babies will go with Auntie Auri and Fiona today for breakfast and a movie in town. While they’re busy getting royally spoiled, Mama will lead two yoga classes, a meditation class, and I have two Sports medicine appointments this afternoon.”

“Are we still on for pizza and beers for lunch?” my husband asks with a wink. I have put on some extra weight, thanks to the man who firmly supports my pepperoni pizza addiction, but he reassures me that he likes a little extra to hold onto at night. And I like finally indulging myself occasionally without feeling like I’m constantly constrained to eat like a bird.

Leaning in, the gorgeous man showers the shell of my ear in kisses, whispering, “You know the supply room could use some organizing after lunch. You won’t make me do it alone, will you?”

“Never,” I reply breathlessly, in mock shock. “And our plan for ten babies could use a new addition. You’re falling behind, Daddy.”

He removes his cowboy hat, running his hand through his thick, dark brown hair and shaking his head. “You’ve been trouble since the first night I met you, and you mean to keep me running the rest of my life.”

“Running and other things, my love.”

“Good,” he says, holding me and the babies close. “As long as you are always between these two arms of mine, I will always be a happier man than I ever thought possible.”

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