Ice looked around and lowered his voice. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Yes.” I hid my astonishment that he was confiding in a lowly rookie.

“She’s pregnant. Only a few people know. We’re not ready to announce it yet. Anyway, she isn’t feeling too good tonight.”

“Wow, dude, that’s cool. The baby on the way, that is.” I hoped he didn’t notice the odd tone in my voice. Seven years ago, I would’ve been the one announcing to my teammates that I was having twins. I frowned, unable to visualize how such an announcement would go down among my teenage hockey-playing cohorts. They’d have either congratulated me or told me to pray for my sanity while kissing any chance at an NHL career goodbye.

Maybe things had worked out for the best in the long run. The odds would’ve been stacked against me when it came to having a successful professional hockey career while supporting twins and a wife. Hell, I’d had two years left in high school. Most likely, I would’ve been forced to quit hockey, and possibly high school, and gone to work at the local grocery store or something, and our marriage would’ve failed within the year if I’d married Caro.

Ice beamed at me, and he rarely beamed at anyone. “Yeah. Our first. Pretty damn excited about it.”

“I can imagine.” He had no idea. “Congratulations, man.”

“Thanks. Being a dad is probably going to be the toughest and most rewarding thing I’ve ever done.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it is.” I wasn’t being patronizing. I believed what he was saying based on my short experience being a father.

He winked at me. “Later.” Ice stood and walked over to Cedric and Rush, leaving me alone with my own thoughts regarding parenthood.

I was a father.

I had to behave like one and set a good example. I had two little lives depending on me. Looking up to me. Maybe even idolizing me. A thrilling yet scary thought. I’d idolized my firefighter father. He’d walked on water and was invincible in my eyes until that fateful night when he’d gone into a burning apartment building to rescue a baby. He’d handed the baby out the window to a waiting firefighter just before the roof caved in on him. He’d died a hero, but he’d left a heartbroken mother and three children behind. God willing, I’d always be there for my kids.

What kind of father would I be compared to mine? I’d been ten when he’d died. He’d played junior hockey but never been good enough for the big leagues. My mom had played college hockey, so my brothers and I came by our talent naturally. I recall my dad being gone a lot, but he’d devoted time to us whenever he was home. Juggling firefighting and fatherhood had to be a challenge, just like juggling hockey and fatherhood.

Losing my father at ten had made a lasting impression on me, probably in more ways than I realized. Kids had a tendency to blame themselves no matter how crazy that might be. For a long time, I wondered if there was something I could’ve done to make him stay home that day. He’d covered a shift for another guy. He wasn’t supposed to be working. I’d learned early in life the mortality of those you loved, and I’d avoided close relationships from that point on other than my family. Yeah, I’d had the same college girlfriend for three years, but we’d stayed together out of convenience, not necessarily a deep, burning need for each other. I’d needed Caro way more, despite our short time together.