Page 27 of Bagging the Blueliner
Something wasn’t right.
It felt like a trap.
Had she found out Coach recruited me to watch out for her?
I shuddered at the thought. Hannah would go ballistic.
That girl had two levels of crazy. Her regular crazy was on par with the kind of crazy that made you run from girls and never look back. Then, there was Hannah’s batshit crazy. It was enough to make you want to throw holy water on her and begin calling a priest for an exorcism.
Knowing her, she would take it out on me instead of her dad. I did not have the time nor energy to deal with one of her tantrums.
Now, we were in Calgary, the final stop on our northwestern road trip.
My hometown.
Coming home was always surreal. Once a year, we played the Alberta Moose in Calgary in the same arena I grew up watching the game, making wide-eyed plans on how someday that would be me carving up the ice.
Luckily, we got an extra day, so I had the opportunity to spend some time with my folks. On most trips up here, I was lucky to see them pregame for a few minutes at the arena, but they were thrilled we had enough time for them to throw together an impromptu family dinner.
Jaxon and Benji jumped at the chance for a home-cooked meal after nine days on the road. I couldn’t blame them. Nine straight days of room service, takeout, and the occasional meal out got old fast.
Renting a car and driving west of the city, further toward the mountains, I felt at peace.
During the summer, I escaped to my cabin, isolated in the Canadian Rockies. It provided the rest I needed after the grind of the season and the perfect place to lick my wounds each year when we failed to carve our place in history by winning a championship.
My boys took in the natural beauty of the area in awe as we passed dozens of small lakes and ponds littering the landscape. They grew up like I did, skating in the open air. Jaxon came from Minnesota, where lakes were plentiful. Benji was a kid from the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, where winters were long and cold, extending the time small bodies of water remained frozen.
Pulling up to a large farmhouse with the mountains as a backdrop, I was proud of where I came from. My parents were hard-working, running the cattle ranch that had been in the Berg family for generations. While my dad spent his days out on the land, my mom took up beekeeping. She loved sending me pictures from farmers' markets with her stand full of hand-harvested artisanal honey infused with various flavors.
Before I could come to a complete stop, a pair of boys with platinum blond hair bounded from the house. My nephews. Calvin—named for me—and Julian were my older sister’s boys. They were the future of this ranch, even if their last name wasn’t officially Berg.
Opening my door and stepping out, they raced into my arms.
“Uncle Cal! Dad said the Moose are going to beat the Comets tomorrow night!” Julian, now eight, cried as he hugged my leg.
Ruffling his hair, I teased, “Your dad should stick to ranching. He wouldn’t know a hockey stick from a broom.”
Calvin, who was twelve, shoved his younger brother playfully. “He just says that to rile you up, Jules.” Turning to me, he explained, “He’s got a bet running with Billy at the bar that you’ll get at least two points.”
Frowning slightly, I asked the boys, “What do I always tell you about betting?”
“Never bet what you can’t afford to lose,” they replied in unison.
“That’s right. Now, I’ve gotta step up and make sure your dad doesn’t lose that bet.”
Young Cal shrugged. “He didn’t bet money. Just a round of drinks.”
Julian lost interest, spying the two men I brought with me, his eyes growing wide. “Is-is that Jaxon Slate?”
Glancing at my best friend, I chuckled. “The one and only.”
Both boys ran over to him, talking a million miles an hour. Kids idolized Jaxon, and it was easy to see why. He was an incredibly skilled hockey player but an even better human. Dropping to one knee, he spoke with Julian, answering all his questions with a smile.
Benji huffed, “And what am I? Chopped liver?”
Jaxon rose to his feet, clapping Benji on the back, explaining to the boys, “A hockey player is only as good as his teammates. Benji here makes me a better player every time we hit the ice.”
That was all it took, and the boys descended on Benji next. Both Calvin and Julian played, but only recreationally. They spent most of their spare time helping out on the ranch, preparing for the day when they would take over.
