Page 81 of Comeback
“You ready to get back to work, bud?” he asked as he clapped his hand on my back.
“Fuckin’ right,” I said.
Dane’s midnight blue Maserati waited for us, purring in the driveway. I tossed my gear into the trunk and climbed in. The interior was all leather.
“Hey, big spender, nice car,” I said. Us hockey players love to give each other shit—especially over each other’s spending habits. “How much did this thing cost you?”
Dane smirked, ready to give me some shit right back. “Notnearlyas much as that giant yacht cost you, sailor.”
We both laughed and Dane put the car in gear, and we headed to the arena.
***
The march through the arena was a walk down memory lane. All the sights and sounds and smells triggered so many memories—most of them pleasant. I was happy to be back.
We made our way to the end of a long hallway. A set of closed double doors led to the locker room. Dane cracked the doors open an inch and the raucous banter of a room full of skaters vying to make the team grew even louder.
Dane peeked into the room, then shut the door and looked at me. “Looks like everyone’s there. You ready?”
I took a deep breath. I wasn’t sure how this was going to go—we’d managed to keep my hockey comeback a total secret. Only Dane, Reavo, and the Devils general manager knew.
“Let’s do it.”
Dane threw the doors open and we waltzed in. One by one, the conversations around us tapered off into stunned silence. Heads turned to follow me as I walked across the room, and shocked whispers swirled all around.
“Dude, look!”
“It’s Hath, man!”
“Jack Hathaway?”
“Is he really back?!”
Before I could address the team, I wanted to pay my respects. I made a beeline across the floor, heading for the empty stall that was sealed behind a layer of glass.
After Soupy’s death, the boys turned his stall into a shrine—all his gear was preserved exactly the way he left it before he died. Dane and Reavo had warned me about the shrine, in case it might piss me off.
It didn’t piss me off, but I was a little surprised at how much the sight choked me up.
The room fell silent as I put my palm to the glass.
Rest in peace, bud.
I let out a deep breath and turned to face the boys.
“Morning,” I said to the room.
“Morning,” thirty or forty gruff voices barked back.
“I see a lot of familiar faces. A lot of new faces, too,” I said.
I paused. The words weren’t coming easily. I was never much of a motivational speech guy back when I was the captain—and now I found it even harder.
I gestured at the shrine behind me. “This guy was my best friend. And the way he died fucked me up. But that’s no excuse for what I did—I left this team hanging when it needed me most.” I blew out an angry gust of air and shook my head. “I’m sorry, boys. I’m going to work hard to earn your trust again, so we can get right back to where we left off: fighting for the Cup.”
The room went up in a roar, and the shouts came from all over.
“Hell yeah!”
