Page 74 of Offside and Off-Limits
Nate shrugs. “Come on, Coach, you’ve gotta admit that last slapshot was a thing of beauty.”
“It was reckless and selfish. Thatfancy stuff stays in your back pocket until we've got a comfortable lead. You pull moves like that when the game’s on the line, and you'll be watching the rest of it from the bench.”
“Come on, it was awesome,” he persists, and several of the team scoff.
Coach shoots him a look that could wither at fifty paces. “Pull your head in, son. And do it before next week’s game. Got it?”
“Yes, Coach,” he replies, although I know what he’s thinking because I’ve been there myself when I was young and had a lot to prove. You want to make your name, and you think you’re invincible.
But Nate doesn’t have the rookie excuse. He's got enough ice time under his belt to read the room.I guess some players just don’t get there’s noIinteam, no matter how long they’ve been playing.
“Captain, any words?” Coach asks, and Jamie glides over to us.
“Good effort out there today, but we've got some things to clean up before our first game, as Coach says. Bama, that shot selection in the third drill was money. Keep trusting your instincts in tight spaces.”
“Will do,” Carson replies.
“Smith, your positioning on that two-on-one was textbook, but you hesitated on the clear. Don’t think so much, just move the puck.”
“You got it,” Weston replies.
“And Simpson? Coach is right. Pull your head in and be part of the team.”
Nate doesn’t reply. He just gives a half smile that tells me he has no intention of pulling his head in any time soon.
Jamie scans the group, making eye contact with each of us. “We're building something special here in Maple Falls, but it starts with showing up for each other every single day. That'show we earn not only our position in the League, but this town's respect.”
“You got it, Captain!” I say along with a bunch of the guys.
“Excuse me?” a woman says, and I turn, expecting to see Clara. She’s expected here to film a few of us who volunteered to do another dance—me, of course, and Asher, the shoo-in, but also Clément and Carson this time. But it isn’t Clara. It’s a young woman, looking nervous, clasping a phone in her hand, dwarfed by a puffer jacket that reaches below her knees.
“What can I do for you, miss?” Coach asks.
“I’m here to film the dance?” She poses it as a question although it’s clearly not one. “I’m Millie. Millie Nelson. I work in the marketing team.”
“Where’s Clara?” I ask, and there’s a murmur among the guys.
“Missing your girlfriend?” Nate jibes.
“Whatever,” I reply with a roll of my eyes.
“Clara’s sick today, so I’m here instead,” Millie says, looking like a nervous rookie who just got called up to face a charging defenseman.
I pull my brows together. Clara’s sick? That can’t be good. I hope it’s not a CFS flare.
“I’ve got a list of players who I’ll be filming, if you could please stay behind? Asher Tremblay, Carson Crane, Cade Lennox, and Clément Rivière,” she says, pronouncing Clément’s name as Clément Rivi-ear.
“You’ve got your instructions. The rest of you, hit the showers. And you need to really bring it at our next practice!” Coach says as the team begins to peel off.
Instead of hanging around, I tell Millie that I’m sorry I can’t film today, and I dash to the locker room to get showered and changed at lightning speed.
A short while later, I’ve got a bunch of fruit and some chicken soup, and I arrive at Clara’s house, and knock on the door.
“Who is it?” I hear Clara call out.
“It’s me, Cade.”
The door opens enough so I can see Clara in a pale T-shirt and pair of black leggings, her pretty blonde hair captured in a messy bun on top of her head, and a plaid blanket thrown around her shoulders. The sight of her looking so vulnerable squeezes my heart, and I have the urge to collect her in my arms and carry her to her bed, then lay down beside her and hold her close, protecting her from whatever it is that’s made her unwell.
