Joelle Morrow has her focus set on the future. As an up-and-coming lingerie designer, she's overcome multiple setbacks on the road to achieving her dream of opening her own boutique but has yet to be knocked down, leaving her no time to think about...
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Two weekends following my family's inquisitive Thanksgiving dinner, the first snowfall of the year hit Boston. And it hit hard. Accumulating snow was made worse by blistering winds, and despite it all, the Knights game remained a go.
Which, coincidentally, was the first game of the season I'd agreed to go to.
Having braved the roads, Aimee and I arrived at the arena nearly half an hour before puck drop, and with tickets in hand, joined the short queue of fans waiting to get inside. Once through security, the two of us skipped the long concession lines, having eaten before we'd left the apartment, and headed straight for the stands.
Warm ups had already finished, but despite the empty ice, the seats were already starting to fill with Knights fans, creating a sea of navy, silver, and white as the countdown on the jumbotron ticked down. And while there weren't many, a few New York fans could be spotted throughout the crowd wearing their signature red jerseys.
"It always feels weird being down here," Aimee said, clad in a navy jersey with Jack's last name scrawled across the back as we took our seats.
Meanwhile, I huddled my jacket tighter around me, concealing the only navy shirt I could find. The hat Aimee loaned me was now the lone indicator for what team I was cheering for. "Don't you usually sit in the stands?"
"If Jack's family is in town, sure, but normally I'm up in the boxes when I don't drag you along." Shifting in her seat, she turned to me with mischief in her eyes. "Speaking of, how does it feel knowing you're here to cheer on Seb, not just to keep me company?"
Trying and failing to fight back a blush, I acted as though it wasn't a big deal. That the way Seb's eyes had lit up when he'd offhandedly invited me to watch the game a few nights back hadn't caused a spark of desire low in my stomach. "I don't see the difference."
"Oh, but you will."
My forehead creased with confusion, but Aimee said nothing more as we stood to allow a couple of people to pass and get to their seats.
Soon enough, the lights dimmed and a hush fell over the arena. Music began playing from the overhead speakers, pumping up the crowd, and suddenly, the spotlights turned on, circling the ice before coming to a stop right as the players rushed onto the ice. Applause rang loud throughout the building, Aimee and I joining in, though my attention was mostly focused on picking Seb out from the group.
I spotted his jersey—with the number twenty-two on the back—as he took another loop around our half of the ice, and the look of determination etched into his features was hard to miss. In fact, it was the same look every player had—one that made it clear they were going to fight their hardest to capture the win. Only when Seb stepped off the ice, moving down the player's bench, did his concentration break, and it was only for a moment as he lifted his gaze and sent a perfectly aimed wink my way. My applause faltered and I felt my cheeks heat up at the acknowledgement, but by the time the announcer began to call out the starting line-ups, he'd slipped back into game mode.
