Page 85 of Hard Check

"Fuck, Pike." I managed to keep my voice steady. "That's... that's incredible."

"Is it?" He resumed packing. "I feel like I might throw up. Or pass out. Or both simultaneously."

"It's exactly what should happen." So far, I meant everything I said. "You've earned it. Syracuse knows talent when they see it."

It was what I'd wanted for him. Every drill we ran and every adjustment I suggested had been building toward this moment.

He sat beside me, our thighs touching. I gripped his knee without conscious thought. He turned to look at me. "We should tell the team before it leaks."

He was right. The news would be out in the media in a matter of hours.

Mercier and TJ arrived together and headed to the equipment room first. I looked at Pike. "It won't get any easier."

"Will you—?"

"Yeah. I'll be there."

We entered the equipment room, hearing the pair bantering about the latest stick technology. Pike called, "Mercier, TJ, got a minute?"

The conversation stopped. TJ dropped his voice low. "Are we planning a coup?"

Pike didn't hesitate. "I got called up. This isn't rookie camp. It's tomorrow with Syracuse."

TJ's mouth dropped open, then stretched into a grin so wide it threatened to split his face in half. "Holy shit, Pike! Are you serious?"

Mercier's reaction was quieter but no less profound. He stepped forward to clap Pike on the shoulder firmly. "You earned it. Go show them what we taught you."

The we was unexpected. Not what I taught you or what Carver taught you. What we taught you. Like Pike belonged to all of us, this makeshift hockey family.

TJ launched himself forward, wrapping Pike in one of his signature enthusiasm-fueled embraces. "About damn time, golden boy. I was starting to think Syracuse's scouts were legally blind."

He pulled back, hands on Pike's shoulders, then executed some complicated fist-bump sequence that involved at least three directional changes and ended with jazz hands. Pike laughed. It was a good break and the first genuine smile I'd seen on his face all day.

TJ turned toward me, extending the fist-bump ritual in my direction. "Carver, you must be bursting with pride. Your little mentee's all grown up."

I accepted the ridiculous handshake and allowed TJ's infectious joy to crack through some of my trepidation about the future. "He did the work. I only pointed him in the right direction."

TJ sat on an overturned equipment crate. "So, I guess this means I need a new excuse for my shit passing. Can't blame you for not being where I expected anymore."

"Your passing was shit before Pike got here," I pointed out.

"Details." TJ waved dismissively. "The important thing is, I had a scapegoat. Now, I'll have to take responsibility for my failures. It's very inconvenient."

Pike laughed again. He needed some levity. Mercier retrieved his mask from a shelf, signaling the end of our impromptu gathering. "When do you fly out?"

"Tomorrow morning. Early."

"Then we better make tonight count," TJ said. "Post-game at the Icehouse? Celebration drinks? I'm buying the first round in honor of our newly minted NHL prospect."

Pike glanced at me. I nodded slightly. He needed to enjoy it and be twenty-three and invincible for one more night.

He changed his mind. "I think I'll have to take a rain check. I've got calls to make, and I need to pack. Parents and probably at least a dozen others need to hear this before it hits the internet. I can do a lot of them this afternoon, but I don't know what to take with me."

TJ stood, brushing invisible dust from his jeans. "Fair enough. But when you score your first goal up there, you owe me a beer."

"Deal."

As we filed back into the main locker room, I caught Mercier's arm. "Thanks for how you handled that."

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