Logan Romano took the NHL like a hurricane- dark and brooding.
With his natural talent, brute force and sheer determination, he goes completely unchallenged both on and off the ice.
He's notorious. Both for his success and his stormy personality...
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What feels like a thousand cameras flash right in front of my face as Ciara leads me, her shoulder pressed against mine, into the packed stadium.
A huge camera on wheels tracks our every move, the announcers rambling on about which player's have their families coming to watch today.
A reporter pushes himself a little too close to Ciara and waves, shouting her down. "And here is Ciara Vaughn, wearing her custom 'Mrs Vaugh' letterman jacket with the number 43 plastered on the back.'
I can feel her posture stiffen as they continue to talk at her, almost like she's not even here. She holds her baby son, Cruz, closer to her chest and shields his face from the brightness. I follow her lead and do the same thing with her daughter, Nevaeh, who's wriggling around in my arms.
We decided that it'd be easier for us to tag team this and carry one child each instead of Ciara fight with both of the babies or, god forbid, let Nevaeh toddle around herself.
Although that sounds like a recipe for disaster.
"Hi Ciara!" A woman shouts from behind a phone, a lanyard clearly displaying which news outlet she comes from.
Ciara blanks her completely.
My curiosity peaks even further when I see some of the other wives playing up to it, some of them even stopping to pose or smile and show off their outfits, meanwhile others walk straight past like those flashes aren't so dang blinding.
Ciara fits into the latter group. She pays them no mind, even as the announcers drone on about Carter's stats so far this season and raise questions about his potential retirement. She doesn't even react when they start badgering her about the children, asking why she's covering their faces and why they don't always attend their Daddy's games.
This woman has one hell of a poker face if I've ever seen one.
We've nearly made it through the crowds and I've, thankfully, managed to keep my coat securely zipped up the entire time. Ciara advised me to hide the jersey I have on when we got out the car, saying that the last thing I want or need right now is to be put on the press' radar.
'Vultures' she called them as we were getting ready this afternoon. And I was starting to see why.
"How do you cope with that every single game?" I pant once we've safely reached the elevator.
Ciara sighs, adjusting her hold on Cruz, and relaxes her shoulders slightly. "It's not always like this. Usually, the reporters just want to snap a few pictures and say hi."
"What makes today so different?" Nevaeh struggles against me, desperate to wriggle free and explore so I gently put her down and grab tight hold of her hand.
She darts straight to her Mom, clutching her leg with her free hand and babbling to herself happily.
I might be stressed out by the cameras but the Vaughn children clearly aren't phased. In fact, I'm pretty sure Cruz dozed off during that press circus.
