The group was large when it first started. A lot of the widows and widowers stayed in the area for a while, but slowly, some moved away. Most of the players’ wives were transient, having moved to Pittsburgh for their husband’s jobs. Some—like me, though—had grown deeper roots.
Mitch moved here at eighteen to play with the Titans. I was only sixteen at that time and it was a miserable two years away from him, but I followed right along after high school graduation. You’d think that would’ve upset my parents, but to the contrary, they were supportive. They knew I wasn’t sloughing off college to “just pursue a boy.” They’d watched me and Mitch grow up together and turn from playmates to crushes to dating to falling in love.
I was accepted at Pitt and loved being a student, although admittedly, it wouldn’t have been anywhere near as fulfilling without Mitch by my side. I moved in with him and life was blissful.
But then we got hit with the craziest of curveballs… I got pregnant halfway through my freshman year, which sort of put a wrinkle in our plans.
Pregnancy was the last thing we wanted at this young time in our lives, and needless to say, Mitch and I were shocked. I was knocked for a bigger loop when the day following my positive pregnancy test, Mitch came home with a huge diamond ring and proposed. We’d always talked about being soul mates and being together forever, but we never specifically talked about getting engaged, married or having kids. We’d been together for pretty much forever and so it was assumed we’d always continue to be together.
And yet, when he gallantly got down on one knee and presented a ring so outlandishly enormous and sparkly, I couldn’t believe we hadn’t been talking about those things forever because it felt so natural when I threw my arms around his neck and screamed, “Yes!”
The engagement was followed by a quick but beautiful wedding attended by our families and all the Titans. I quickly learned how to be a hockey wife, having Mitch gone for days at a time. I went through my pregnancy with him by my side as much as possible but there were a few appointments he missed because he was traveling. I’d recently turned nineteen when I gave birth to Travis and Mitch was able to be there. It’s my fondest memory of him… the look on his face when he first held his son.
I was able to finish my freshman year at Pitt while pregnant, but after Travis was born, I never went back. Mitch and I decided it was better for me to be a full-time mom, which is a move I’ve never regretted once in my life.
Almost a decade later and I’m still here in Pittsburgh, even though many of the other wives, fiancées and girlfriends have drifted away. We still keep in contact and even have some support group Zoom calls where we’ll all have drinks as we catch up on each other’s lives.
But almost every Sunday, This Pucking Sucks gets together. Not everyone can make it every time. One weekend we’ll have a group of ten and the next it’s only two of us meeting for lunch. And it’s not only the wives or significant others… it’s any family member or friend who shares the same grief we do after losing a Titans member.
Today is special because the team is in town and tomorrow’s a home game, so Stone and Harlow volunteered to host at their place. Stone lost his brother, Brooks, in the crash and came up from the minors to take his place on the team.
They live in a beautiful, renovated warehouse a few blocks north of the river, just a short drive from the arena. I’m able to find a parallel spot two blocks down. As I walk toward the condo entrance, I come upon Cannon West getting out of his car. He locks it, pockets the key and nods at the bag in my hand. “What did you bring?”
“A pasta salad. You?”
He holds up a grocery bag. “Mini Snickers.”
Laughing, I step into him for a side-arm hug. “That works for me.”
The Titans’ coach comes to some of our meetings and the very first one he was at, he insisted we call him Cannon. He didn’t lose anyone in the crash, but he shows up to support us as someone who has known loss in his life. We chitchat all the way into the building and up the flight of stairs to the second level where Stone and Harlow’s unit is on the end. There’s already the sound of laughter coming down the hall, and I do love to hear that. Cannon and I share a smile.
Before he reaches the door, he asks, “How’s the new job going?”
Excitement and pleasure well up within me. “Oh my gosh… so well. I mean, there’s so much to learn but Brienne is a patient teacher.”
“She couldn’t have picked a better person to head her brother’s foundation,” Cannon murmurs.
His compliment warms me because I struggle with impostor syndrome every day. From the moment Travis was born, my job was to be his mom. Mitch made enough money I didn’t have to work and I never went back to college. My career was to make my son’s and husband’s lives as good as they could be.
It’s been a bit of a struggle since Mitch died—not just emotionally, but financially. Brienne’s job offer for me to serve as the director of a new charity she named after her brother threw me for a loop. It came at the perfect time because I was very close to throwing in the towel and heading home to Massachusetts, where my parents were more than happy to take Travis and me in.
But now I have purpose and Brienne is showing me that I can be both a mom and a working woman. She’s helping me realize that I can take care of my son in all ways and it’s empowering. After the last ten months, it feels good to be capable.
CHAPTER 3
Camden
I know all the people here and yet I’m decidedly uncomfortable. When I arrive at Stone and Harlow’s, Harlow greets me at the door. She latches onto my arm and drags me into the kitchen.
“Food and drink. Get going,” she orders. “Then come join us in the living room.”
I load up a plate of various foods that people brought. There’s a bowl of Snickers and I’m guessing that’s from Coach. While I know he comes to some of these get-togethers, I’m certain he’s here today to make sure I showed up.
I didn’t bring anything because Coach West didn’t tell me to, but Harlow assured me it was okay.
In the living room, I end up by the doors to an outdoor balcony talking to Hendrix and Coen—fitting that the Lucky Three are grouped together.
You’d think such an experience would bond us tightly, but oddly, the three of us don’t talk about the crash. Sure, we supported each other in the weeks that followed—saying our goodbyes as we attended multiple funerals and memorials. But eventually, we all sort of moved on, occupied by the easy escape of continuing the season with a new team.
Hendrix and I were able to focus on hockey as the team was rebuilt. Coen, unfortunately, went off the deep end for a while and eventually was suspended. Luckily, he got his shit together over the summer and now he’s back, in love and playing better than ever.
I realize their girlfriends aren’t with them and I wonder if this is open to only those who lost loved ones. Harlow is present, but she lives here and Stone is hosting. Plus, she was best friends with his brother, Brooks.
“Where’s Stevie?” I ask Hendrix.
“Working,” he says, dipping a cucumber slice into some kind of dip.