Page 35 of Stick It
“This looks amazing,” I tell Bear, changing the subject as I move to take my seat at the table. He sits down opposite, and we pile food on our plates. We keep the conversation light, easy, while we eat. He asks me about my classes, and the workload, and if I’m juggling everything okay. All the questions a concerned parent would ask, and while each one fills me with warmth at the reminder that someone still cares, it also inflicts a stabbing pain in my chest every time.
“How are things between you and the team?” he eventually asks, clearing his throat. I wondered when we’d get round to talking about the team. I sense he’s been dying to ask that since I walked through the door, and I have to give him credit for holding back for this long.
“As expected,” I respond vaguely with a nonchalant shrug.
“That standoff with Reed the other day…”
“Nothing I can’t handle,” I assure him, unable to meet his eyes as I wave his concern away.
I can feel his sharp stare on me, though. “Are you sure? ’Cause I can?—”
“You can’t do anything,” I interrupt, tone soft to ease the blow of my words. “It’ll only make me look weak if you step in. Like I can’t fight my own battles.” I arch a brow, giving him a knowing look. “When we both know I can.”
That earns me a smile. “You’re the strongest person I know, D.”
Reaching over, I squeeze his hand resting on top of the table. “So have faith that I can handle this.”
Blowing out a breath, he reluctantly nods. “I do, I do, it’s just…it was one thing to see what those old asshole teammates did to you on the ice, but it’s another to watch it going on behind the scenes. To see it happening onmyrink.” He shakes his head. “The season hasn’t even started yet, and my tongue is at risk offalling off from the number of times I’ve had to bite it to keep my mouth shut.”
I chuckle. “Well, that might actually earn me some brownie points with some of the guys if you can no longer chew their asses off.”
His lips lift in a semblance of a smile, but concern still swims in those wise, aged eyes of his. “Just keep an eye out for Kyle. He’s not going to be happy.”
Now that I’ve officially taken his starting spot.
Perhaps I should be more concerned about what he’ll do, but all I feel is smugness. Maybe if he’d taken my advice and focused on his game instead of mine…except I know that’s not true. Kyle could have dedicated every waking moment to hockey these past three weeks, and yes, it would have been a closer competition, but I still would have come out on top. Kyle’s good, but he doesn’t have the raw talent to be the best. He doesn’t have the drive and determination necessary to succeed at this level of competition.
I suspect he’s not used to having to work for what he wants in life. He was obviously good enough in high school to get a place on a college team, but college hockey is an entirely different arena. The competition is fierce. It’s at this level that you distinguish those who have the talent, who are willing to put in the work and improve, from those who simply view hockey as a hobby.
If you don’t have the talentandthe dedication, then you’re just not going to cut it on the first line. It’s as simple as that.
“You know,” Bear begins, setting down his fork and leaning back in his chair, the flicker of a memory softening the lines on his face. “I believe it was the challenges your dad faced in college that made him the resilient player he was.”
I pause mid-bite, surprised. Bear doesn’t usually talk aboutmy dad’s struggles—just how talented he was, how dominant on the ice. The legend of him, not the man.
“Most of the kids I coach are carefree college students, spreading their wings for the first time and excited to sample everything life has to offer. But that wasn’t Patrick. Even at eighteen, he was just a man—a dad—trying to make it work. Trying to juggle you and classes and hockey. Just wanting to be the best at everything all at once.”
A lump forms in my throat. Of course, I know my mom and dad got pregnant with me in high school. I always thought their love story was one fairy tales were created from. There can’t be many high school sweethearts who end up accidentally pregnant and actually make it all the way—graduate college, dominate in their chosen career path, and somehow manage to love each other unconditionally.
They had the perfect life. The perfect love story…
Until they didn’t.
I lose myself to the overwhelming grief and regret and aching sadness that weighs on me constantly. Another battle I’m forever fighting to keep at bay.
“It was a different fight,” Bear says, dragging my mind back into his kitchen. “Your dad had different obstacles to overcome.”
Admittedly, I’ve never really thought about my dad that way. I know he worked his ass off, but the main memories I have of him are after college. I’ve never really thought about the fact that he had to fight for his place too. In my mind, he’s always just been…great.
“Your mom was a godsend, of course,” Bear continues. “Supported his dream no matter the sacrifices.” My throat goes dry at the mention of my mom. I really should try to call her this week…assuming she’ll even answer the phone.
“But your dad,” Bear shakes his head, eyes glinting with that familiar fondness, “he never backed down from it. Nevercomplained. Never blamed you for making it more difficult for him to reach his dream. If anything, you were his reason for fighting as hard as he did. He poured everything he had into hockey, into being the best. He fought for it every day.”
I swallow hard, emotions I’ve buried deep for so long now threatening to bubble over and completely destroy me.
“Sounds like Dad.” My throat is hoarse, scratchy.
Bear nods. “That drive?” he says, leaning forward slightly on his chair. “That refusal to give up no matter how much was on his shoulders? No matter the odds? That’s what made him so damn good. The best I ever coached.” He lets the weight of that settle for a moment before adding with a teasing glint in his eye, “Until now, maybe.”
