Page 3 of Stick It
Goosebumps pebble along my arms. The tank top and jean shorts I’m wearing do little to combat the cold as I stare out over the ice. In my mind’s eye, I can see the players—a sea of Bermuda blue and silver—skating across the rink, skates cutting across the bold Steelhawks emblem in the center of the ice. I can hear the roar of the crowd. The ding of the buzzer as a goal is scored. The slam of a body hitting the boards.
An entire game plays out in front of me before I lift my gaze higher, climbing the tall walls of the arena until I reach the row of jerseys—previous players who have gone on to join the NHL. I scan the names, not daring to consider a future wheremyname could be on that wall.
My focus stalls on the final jersey, a lump rising in my throat.
“Let’s hope I don’t screw this one up, eh?”
My question is directed to ghosts, but it is a veryalivevoice that responds, making me jump out of my skin.
“How did I know I’d find you here instead of at home,resting?”
Spinning toward the voice, a reluctant smile grows across my face.
“Just wanted to get a feel of the place before chaos ensues tomorrow.” Once he’s close enough, I wrap my arms around him, and he envelops me in a hug that I can feel to my bones. “Thought you’d be long gone by now, tucked up in bed, old man.”
He scoffs, pulling away to nudge me with his elbow. “That’s Coach to you now.”
I scrunch my nose. “Nope. Don’t think I can do it.” Leaning in, I say more softly, “You’ll always be Bear to me.”
He huffs an irritated laugh, but I catch the way the corners of his lips lift, the tenderness that momentarily softens his eyes.
“Not in public, if you know what’s good for you.”
Aaaand that gruff exterior is back.
Gesturing toward the closest row of plastic seats, he walks over to sit, and I join him. “You’re ready, you know. I might have gotten you in the door, but you deserve a spot on this team. What spot that is, is up to you, but you. Deserve. This. Shot.”
He reaches over to squeeze my hand, and I manage a wan smile.
“What if I mess it all up again?” My voice is pinched tight with nerves.
“You won’t. You’ve learned from last year. Focus on the game, and your raw talent will speak for itself.” A wistful smile plays along his lips. “Of course, if you don’t go home and get some rest, you’re going to play like shit tomorrow.”
I gasp, my turn to smack the man who has been like an uncle to me my entire life. “How dare you! I could be out partying all night andstillkick ass on the ice.”
“Ha,” he barks. “Iknowyou got the email with my rulebook. No partying, and no drinking during the season.”
“Yeah,” I scoff. “I bet every single one of your players sits at home every Saturday night, with a can of Coke, playing board games. They’re definitelynotat a bar after every game—win or lose—drinking.”
He simply shakes his head. He knows damn well what his players get up to off the ice.
“Besides,” I argue, “technically, we’re in the preseason…”
“Don’t get smart with me, kiddo, or your ass will be benched before you get the chance to showanyonewhat you can do.”
I grin, our banter having loosened the nerves starting to tighten in my chest. Leaning in, he wraps an arm around my shoulder, pressing his lips to my temple. “It’s good to have you home, D.” His gaze flicks skyward. “He’d be so proud of you.”
With a lump in my throat and comforting arms around me, I stare steadfastly out across the rink.God, I hope so, because the next time I’m here, I won’t just be looking at the ice.
I’ll be playing on it.
The heavy doors of the arena slam shut behind me as I step out into the setting sun. Taking a moment, I pull on my sunglasses and stare out over the parking lot. There is only one other car here other than mine, but I know when tomorrow morning rolls around, it’ll be packed with the vehicles of various members of the team—players, trainers, coaches.
Refusing to let the nerves in, I cross the parking lot to my car and climb behind the wheel. The heat of the leather seats presses against the backs of my thighs, and I immediately blast the A/C. Glancing in my rearview mirror, I can’t see past my belongings piled high in the back seat. Everything from myprevious dorm room is haphazardly crammed into the confined space. I’m pretty sure I heard a light bulb smash at one point… Shit, I hope it wasn’t one of my mugs. I don’t think I could deal with a shattered mug on top of everything else right now.
Goddammit,I knew I should have taken better care when putting everything in the car. I was just so fucking ready to get out of there. With Blackstone State University only being a fifteen-minute drive from my old one, I easily could have made several trips back and forth instead of stuffing everything I had into one carload…
But nope. There was no way in hell you could pay me to step foot back on Northern Summit’s campus.
