Page 8 of Drop the Gloves
He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but still Evan felt like his hopes had been crushed.How was he going to concentrate on playing if he was so stressed out about his own winger?And what could he possibly say or do?Barczyk was a perfectly reasonable player.Evan had seen that during practice.He had great hands and good hockey sense.Yeah, he ran his mouth, but everyone chirped each other.There was no way Evan could complain about him without sounding like an asshole or exposing his own weakness.
Besides, everyone else liked the guy.Even Doyle, who had four career fights against Barczyk, laughed along with everyone else when Barczyk told stories and did impressions of other players.
…had Barczyk entertained the Gliders with an impression of Evan hitting the boards and hobbling to the bench?
Unable to keep any sort of chill about it, Evan switched from his message app to his phone and hit the first number listed under Favorites.
“Mom,” Evan whined on the phone as soon as the call connected.“I don’t like my linemate.”
“Hello, Evan,” his mom deadpanned.“Miss you too.”
“Sorry.Miss you, love you, should’ve called sooner.Better?”
“Hmmm,” she hummed.“A little.So what’s this about your linemate?”
“Remember last season when I got hurt?—?”
“You mean when that rat from the Gliders laid a dirty hit on you, and you missed the rest of the game and a few days of practice to make sure your shoulder was okay?That time?”
“Yeah, that time.”He smiled fondly.He was pretty sure his mom would’ve been standing on the couch, screaming at her TV when it happened.He’d had a dozen texts from her by the time the trainers had finished looking him over, and the last few had been mostly expletives about Barczyk and the refs missing that obvious call.
“What about it?”
“Well, I’m sure you saw that the guy who hit me is on the team”—there was zero chance his mom hadn’t taken down his name and number after the hit, and even less likely she wouldn’t have noticed the Riveters had acquired him—“and he’s going to be my linemate to start the pre-season.”
Silence.
“Mom?”He looked at his phone to make sure the call was still going.
“Riley Barczyk will be on a line with you,” she repeated slowly, like she was speaking some foreign language and wasn’t quite sure the words she’d put together meant what she thought they did.“Oh, sweetie.Well, it’s hockey.You don’t have to like your teammates, just play with them.”
“Liking helps,” he grumbled.“I flinch every time I have the puck and he comes near me.If he’s on a line with me, he’ssupposedto do that.”
His mom sighed sympathetically.“Yeah, you’ll have to work on that.I’m sorry, baby, but looks like you’ll have to deal with Barczyk for the foreseeable future.I doubt Coach Jack would appreciate a call from your mom about it.Didn’t work in Pee Wee, certainly won’t work in the NHL.”
“Ugh,” he grumbled.It wasn’t like he thought his mom could magically fix things, but he was a teensy bit disappointed she couldn’t.
“How’s practice going?I assume you’ve already had to work with him there?He can’t be a total disaster if the team picked him up.”
He knew his mom was dying for details.Usually, he talked hockey with her all the time, but he’d been so stressed he’d redirected all of their text exchanges to be about her work or their family.For the past few days, it’d been nothing but cat videos and memes.
“Practice is fine.I’ve been doing well, I think.Coach seems happy, anyway.And no, Barczyk isn’t atotaldisaster,” Evan admitted.It’d be so easy to brush off Barczyk as a pest if he weren’t so damngood.He wasn’t like those players who only got contracts to be obnoxious and draw penalties.Whatever else he might say about Barczyk, the guy was a decent player.
“So use him to your advantage.Get as many points as you can and lethimdo the dirty work.You can make this work, sweetie, I promise.”
That was true.Despite his size, Evan was terrible at fighting.He also hated it.As a bottom-six player, it was expected for him to be in some scrums.But ifBarczykwas out with him, maybehecould take care of the heavy lifting.The guy seemed toenjoyfighting.It was kind of perfect.Eventually, if Evan could make it to the second line, he wouldn’t have those expectations on him.He could get away with stepping away from fights.
“Thanks, Mom,” he said with genuine relief.He couldtotallymake this work.Granted, he wasn’t over wanting to stay the hell away from Barczyk on the ice.A game plan would help, though.“You’re the best.”
“I know,” she teased.“Glad I could make you feel better.Lunch in a few weeks when you’re in town?”
The Riveters played the Toronto Terrors in Toronto for their last pre-season game.He’d already sent tickets to his mom.One of his cousins was on the Terrors, even though his family lived out in Alberta.The three of them would grab lunch, then Evan would try not to injure his cousin during the game.Weird that the only time they saw each other was during hockey season, but that was pro-hockey life.
“Sure.I’ll text you when I’ve got my flight info.”
“Thanks, sweetie.Good luck.And not just in the games.Hope you survive having Barczyk on your line.He’ll get you your goals, but he’ll probably cost you a few with his shenanigans.”
“Probably.Love you.”
