Page 19 of Gross Misconduct

“I showed up at a practice. One practice,” I tell him. It doesn’t mean I’m going to be a permanent fixture on the team. I have no idea if I can still play.

“We’ll take it one practice at a time. We got the lineup back. The original lineup.” Bill rubs his hands together. We were unstoppable. Me, Bill, Des, Tanner, Hank, and Derek. I don’t know if history can repeat itself, but we’ll sure as hell see.

We all walk down the hallway, past bulletin boards and flyers advertising peewee leagues and lessons. I come here regularly to skate, never to play. It’s a familiar place, but this morning, it feels different.

Bill checks his watch, then peeks in at the rink. “There’s another team just finishing up their practice. Gents, finish up your snacks, and then let’s get suited up.”

Hank crams another breakfast bar in his mouth. He rips open a fresh box and offers them around.

We go into the locker room, the rank smell a primal sensory memory of playing in high school. No amount of air freshener can rid this place of its signature stank. We get into our gear and skates. I found pads and a jersey at a resale shop since my old stuff is too small. But my skates still fit like a glove. And my stick feels warm in my hand.

I check myself out in the mirror. Fuck. I’m really doing this. I’m actually going to play hockey.

“Looking good, Griffdog.” Hank claps me on the shoulder. Like me, his gear is a mix of pieces from different sets. We look like hockey quilts, but damn if we don’t look good.

My teammates and I exit the locker room back into the main hallway. The team on the ice is fully engulfed in their practice with no sign of stopping. They’re also adorned in matching black uniforms.

Des lets out a yawn. “Where the fuck is he?”

“Who?” I ask.

Just then, Derek bursts through the front door carrying two trays of large coffees.

“Here you go.” He doles out the coffees. “Look who the heck it is.”

His face lights up when he sees me then pulls me into a bear hug.

“Where’ve you been?” Hank asks, nearly chugging his coffee.

“I just got off a twenty-hour shift at the firehouse. I’m going to practice for an hour and then go home and collapse.” Derek leans against the wall. He’s the only one who got iced coffee, even though it’s cold out. He looks at me and cocks an eyebrow. “You sure you want to get back into bed with these animals?”

“Don’t scare him away. We finally got him to say yes,” Tanner says.

“Chance, how the fuck are you so alert at this ungodly hour?” Des asks, sipping his coffee as if it’s literally giving him life.

“I’ve been up since 4:12 this morning. Dean had a nightmare and then wanted to build blocks,” Tanner says, as if it’s a regular day for him.

“I wouldn’t wake up that early unless I was catching a flight.” Des shakes his head.

I’ve been there, as have all of the other dads. Sometimes, you just know it’s going to be an extra-long day.

I gulp down the coffee, the refreshing liquid so soothing and rich that I have to remind myself not to chug it or else I’ll burn my throat. “This is amazing.”

“Caroline’s,” Derek says.

“This is Caroline’s coffee?” Caroline’s is the greasy spoon diner in town. They’re known for having a varied menu, with all of the entrées being good, not great. I imagined their coffee was whatever was on sale at the store.

“It is. They import it from somewhere. Cary is a coffee fiend, which is odd since he’s naturally caffeinated.”

I’m still wrapping my head around Derek being bi. And Bill. And Hank making out with a guy with a Tasmanian Devil tongue? It’s a new world, and I’m glad I live in it.

“Go change,” Des says to Derek, pointing to the locker room.

Bill paces outside the rink, a tight grimace on his face. “They really should be finishing up by now. Some of us need to get to the office.”

“You have emails to send, assistants to bang,” Des says.

“For the last time, Tate was not my assistant when we got together.” He whacks the back of his hand at Des’s crotch.

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