Page 12 of Facing the Line

He doesn’t judge me, just stares at me with a solemn blink of his long eyelashes. “At the end of the day, you have to find something that is fulfilling. That you can do every day and feel good about. And it’s okay if you don’t know what it is yet. It helps to try all sorts of things.”

“Fulfilling, huh? That’s helpful. Do you think being a professional athlete will be fulfilling?”

Jonas is good, really good. My dad played in the NHL for fifteen years and now is a broadcaster. My mom has dated countless other players. I’ve been around hockey my entire life, and I know what I’m talking about. I’ve seen the scouts watching him. He’s not drafted with a team like my brother, but he’s talented enough he’ll get signed. No doubt about it.

Instead of preening at my words, the open expression on his face shutters closed.

“I don’t know,” he says, standing and pushing in his chair. “I’ve gotta go. Good luck, though. I’m sure I’ll see ‘ya round, Hadley.”

He turns, gathers his stuff, and walks out the front door. I try to keep my mouth from gaping open. What did I say to drive him away?

Not like I’m disappointed. I only want to know so I can replicate it, I tell myself. I need to keep Jonas as far away as possible. No matter how cute and sweet he might be.

Chapter

Four

JONAS

Mom: We’re cheering for you and watching online! So proud!

Dad: Good luck tonight. Hope you have a great season, son.

I play “How Far I’ll Go,” fromMoanato get the hockey team hyped up before we hit the ice. It’s a new tradition, but it’s mandatory. Athletes are superstitious.

I was feeling anxious last year, and I read an interview from a professional baseball player saying he listened to theMoanasoundtrack to get ready before games. I have four sisters, so I’m no stranger to Disney princesses. I tried it and liked it. I ended up recommending it to Cooper, another one of my roommates and friends, when he was in a slump over his girlfriend. Heplayed it for the team and we won the National Championship. So now we listen before every game. We can’t mess with a routine that works. Plus, it’s excellent hype music.

But not evenMoanacan get me out of my head about hockey. I used to love this game. The first time I picked up a stick at a firefighter event with my dad, I was hooked, no pun intended. I begged for skates and lessons. With only one son and four daughters, my dad was excited to dive into an activity that didn’t involve sequins and ballet shoes. We’d catch Blackhawks games every chance we’d get, and I was on the ice as much as possible.

My high school didn’t have a team, but I played in a community league. I never expected a college scholarship for it, but when Harrison offered, I jumped at the opportunity. Out-of-state tuition at a school like this? It lifted a huge burden off my parents.

Who would have thought I’d have the opportunity to make a career out of it? A life in the NHL is so far removed from the blue-collar world I live in. It could solve so many problems—no worries about car or house payment for myself or my parents, enough money to figure out future care for my sister if she needs it. It could open a lot of doors.

“Scouts out there today,” Cooper says, clapping me on the shoulder. My stomach churns at the thought, but his hazel eyes dance with excitement.

Cooper hasn’t been drafted, but he’s hoping a team signs him anyway. He and Hunter are leaders this year, and they both deserve all the attention. He’s a great player and he’s worthy of a NHL contract.

So I nod and strap on my helmet. “I’ll do my best to make you look good.”

“Nah.” He taps his stick against mine as we file out of the locker room. “Just help us get the win. Whatever’s best for the team.”

The thing is, he means it.

Hunter calls everyone to center ice for a huddle and gives a stirring pep talk. At least I assume that’s what he does—I kinda zone out. I can’t help sizing up the scouts, sitting behind our bench. They all wear hats and windbreakers emblazoned with their respective NHL teams—the Blackhawks, the Red Wings, the Avalanche, the Kraken. We’re a fantastic team, coming off a championship win last year. Of course they are here to check us out. But it makes my skin itchy and tight beneath my gear. They keep their gazes trained on us and I can’t shake off the feeling of being watched. I try to focus on Hunter’s rousing speech—it bothers him we aren’t off to the strongest start. He’s pretty intense about hockey, but that makes sense because his dad played in the NHL. He can’t avoid it.

On the bench, Evan elbows me. “Dude, are you seeing this?”

I look up. Hunter’s dad is at the game. His face covers the Jumbotron, grinning and waving to the crowd. The team’s administration makes a big announcement, revealing they are naming the arena after him.

“Uh-oh.”

We gaze down the row at Hunter. Based on his frown, he isn’t thrilled with this news. But when he realizes he’s on the Jumbotron, he pulls it together and fixes his face into something kinda like a smile.

I crane my neck, scanning the crowd. Is Hadley here? Maybe with their dad? I’m just curious, obviously.

My eyes stop. I spot her long curtain of blonde hair draped over one shoulder. She wears a Harrison Hockey jersey that I’m sure has her brother’s number and their last name on the back. Makes sense.

“Good luck.” Evan and I tap our sticks together in lieu of a high five. I file onto the ice with the rest of my line. Butmy mind’s still on the crowd. On one particular woman in the crowd.

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