Page 61 of Hard Check

Not immediately, not tomorrow, but the trajectory was clear. Rookie camp would lead to training camp, training camp would lead to a roster spot, and a roster spot would lead to Pike disappearing into a world I'd never be invited to enter.

I looked up, drawn by some masochistic need to watch his face during his moment of triumph. He stood surrounded by teammates, accepting handshakes and backslaps with that megawatt smile.

When he spotted me across the crowded room, his smile wavered for a moment before he turned back to TJ, who was already launching into some story about a buddy who'd made it to rookie camp. The guy returned with tales of facilities that made our setup look like a beer league operation.

I should have walked over and added my congratulations to the chorus. Instead, I remained frozen in the tunnel entrance, watching Pike soak up praise while carefully avoiding participation.

"Hey, Carver."

I turned to find Sanders, one of our newer defensemen, hovering at my elbow. The kid couldn't have been more than twenty, still baby-faced enough that he probably got carded at gas stations.

"You ever do one of those rookie camps?"

The question was innocent enough, a natural part of the curiosity that came with being new to professional hockey. He probably figured I had wisdom to share, war stories from my own brush with NHL attention.

"Yeah." My voice was clipped and harsh. "Once."

He waited for more, but I had nothing else to share. What was I supposed to say? That I'd been twenty-four when the Colorado Avalanche invited me to their camp? That I'd spent three sleepless nights preparing, convinced I was finally getting my break? That I'd been cut on day four after a scrimmage where nothing went right, and everything I touched turned to garbage?

"Cool." Sanders sensed he'd stepped into territory he didn't understand. "That's... cool."

He drifted away, leaving me alone with memories I'd worked hard to bury. That camp had been my shot—my one real chance to prove I belonged at the highest level. When it ended with a handshake and a "thanks for coming out," I'd told myself there would be other opportunities.

There weren't.

Seven years later, while I watched Pike's genuine excitement, that old wound cracked open again. The difference this time was that Pike had the talent to survive the cut. He had the pure skill that scouts drooled over.

He was everything I'd never been.

Stop it,I told myself.This isn't about you.

The bitter taste in my mouth suggested otherwise.

It was a Friday, and that meant The Icehouse would be crowded, perfect for drowning my mood in beer and my trademark sarcasm. I claimed a booth in the back corner with TJ and a couple of the older guys, positioning myself where I could see most of the bar without appearing to follow anyone in particular.

TJ launched into a story. "So I told her, if you're gonna criticize my parallel parking, you better be prepared to demonstrate the proper technique." He gestured with a chicken wing for emphasis. "Next thing I know, she's got my keys, and she's showing me up in front of half the neighborhood."

Mercier snorted. "How's that working out for your ego?"

"My ego's fine. It's my passenger side mirror that's having issues."

I should have listened more closely and contributed some cutting remarks. Instead, I kept glancing over to where Pike sat with a different cluster of teammates.

He was at a high-top table near the bar, surrounded by our backup goalie and two of the younger forwards. From my angle, I saw his profile when he turned to respond to whatever story Monroe was telling. He was laughing too loudly and frequently, like someone trying very hard to prove he was having a good time.

He'd been avoiding looking in my direction since I arrived.

The deliberate avoidance stung more than I wanted to admit. We'd perfected the art of stolen glances over the past few weeks. Now, there was nothing. Pike threw himself into conversations with theatrical enthusiasm while I sat twenty feet away feeling like a ghost.

TJ snapped his fingers in front of my face. "Hey, Carver, are you gonna join us for this round?"

"I'm here." I reached for my beer; it was lukewarm.

"Could've fooled me. You've been somewhere else all night." TJ looked across the room and connected the dots. "Ah. Rookie camp blues."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Come on, man. Pike gets his big break, and suddenly, you're brooding like someone stole your favorite stick. It's not subtle."

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