Page 101 of The Puckable Playbook

His voice rises. “No one’s going to look at the stupid video.”

His words are like a blow to the gut. We spent so much time on that video, and he was so excited at first. I crafted the email myself, and it’s compelling as hell. “Stupid video?”

The Keurig sputters behind me, and I nearly jump.

He sighs and stands, walking over to me. “What if I’m not good enough?”

“You are,” I say, my voice catching.

“Maybe your dad could give us the next steps? What if we’re going about it the wrong way?”

My hands clench into fists. “Idid the research.Iknow. If you’d done the research, you’d know.”

He backs away, eyes guarded. “You really won’t reach out to him?”

“I said no.” Why doesn’t he realize that every word he says about this is tearing me up?

His lips thin. “If my dad had ties to the publishing world, I’d jump in for you.”

Disbelief courses through me. “I wouldn’t want you to. I want to make it on my own merits.”

He takes a long time to respond, looking anywhere else but me. “Well, I guess that’s that, then.”

“I guess so.”

“Bye-bye hockey dreams,” he muses as he walks away.

“Oh, don’t fucking put that shit on me,” I snap, and Zaiah looks up, startled. “You’re good. Okay? You’re good enough to make it. I don’t know why you don’t listen. We’ll keep emailing. We’ll call the teams to make sure we’ve sent the emails to the right people. We’ll ask them over the phone to watch your video, but thiswoe is meattitude isn’t helping. I can’t do the work for you. And you’re letting it impact the way you play the game.”

“Oh really?”

“When you finally get the call, you still have to ace the tryouts, so don’t start playing like shit now, Zaiah. You’re playing like you’ve already lost when you’re only getting started. This is when you need to be at your absolute best. And the worst part is, you’re great. You just don’t see it. I don’t know how many times and in how many ways I can say it so that you’ll hear me.”

He doesn’t speak for a while. The smell of coffee lingers, but either I go nose blind to it or the aroma drifts away because by the time he responds, I can’t smell it anymore. “You’re right. I already feel defeated. I’m grasping at straws.” He swallows. “I shouldn’t have asked you that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

He closes his eyes, tilting his head toward the ceiling. He stays that way a few moments, like he’s calling on some sort of higher power. When he looks at me again, his eyes are pleading. “Forgive me?”

“I want the best for you too, you know.”

“I know.” He walks forward, picking me up to hug me. I place my legs around him, and he lifts me onto the counter. “I know I’ve been miserable to live with lately.”

I take a deep breath. “Maybe we can find a mindset coach?”

His eyes shutter closed. “I’ll go to the gym. That always helps me think clearly.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He laces his fingers through my hair, bringing me close. “I’m really sorry, Lenore. Please forgive me. I won’t say anything like that again, and I’ll try to be positive.”

He’s desperate,I remind myself.There’s so much at stake here.“You’re forgiven. I believe in you, Zaiah. Wholeheartedly. But you also have to believe in yourself.”

He gives me a squeeze, pulling me off the counter before dropping a kiss to my forehead. “At least I’ve got you.”

To do list,I note in my head as I watch him gather his gym bag and leave.Look up sports mindset coaching.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

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