Page 61 of Slapshot
“Nice win tonight, boys,” Coach Keller spits out the words as if he’s afraid using a nicer tone will make the sentiment go to our heads. “Mr. Dalager has invited everyone to dinner. Be there. Use your manners.”
We wait for more. He’s never really finished until he undoes his tie.
His left hand goes to the knot and tugs. “That’s all.”
I lean back and stretch to ease some of the ache in my muscles.
“Vonne,” Coach Garfunkle calls from across the room. He motions to the office and reluctantly I get up and head there, trying not to think about what Coach might want. I played quite a bit more tonight, and I think I had a couple good shifts, but Donnie will be back next weekend and I’ll be bumped back to the fourth line.
“Have a seat,” Coach Keller says as I walk into the office. Coach Garfunkle gives me a small smile that I can’t read. Is it a pity smile bracing me for the bad news?
Coach Keller drapes his suit jacket on the back of his chair and rolls his shirt sleeves before taking a seat. Every second waiting for him to speak is excruciating.
“You played well tonight, son.”
My nerves don’t abate any with the compliment. “Thank you.”
“I appreciate your flexibility as we’ve moved you around.”
Two nice things in a row. Yep, the next thing is definitely bad news.
“I’m still not loving the groupings on the lines, though. You’ve been particularly hard for me to place. You’re quick and your stick skills are as good as anyone’s on the team, but that’s only helpful when we can get you the puck. Scoville is a half-step behind you, and you and Thomas don’t seem to be meshing like I hoped. Some of that will come with time, but my gut tells me it’s not the right fit.”
“Coach, I—”
He holds up his hand. I swallow hard and brace for the worst.
“Next weekend I want to try you on the second line with Hudson and Ash.”
“Wait, what?” I sit forward in my chair and look between my two coaches. Coach Garfunkle’s small smile has turned into a big, toothy grin.
“You and Ash have a similar style. Let’s give it a go.”
My mouth gapes open. I look between the coaches several times to confirm they aren’t messing with me. “Thank you.”
Coach Keller nods. “Show me what you got, son.”
“Yes, sir.”
I leave before he can change his mind.
* * *
“When Coach said we were having dinner with Declan Dalager, I thought he meant pushing some tables together at the Biscuit,” Paxton says as he looks around the large back room of the nicest restaurant in Burlington. Two buffet lines are set up on either side and the servers are bustling back and forth to keep them filled.
Kaitlyn stands next to her dad. She holds a drink in one hand, the other crossed over her stomach. She’s smiling but I can see the uneasiness in the way she holds her shoulders and smiles stiffly. And even from here I can tell she’s giving one-word responses to the conversation.
I can’t say I completely understand the issues between her and her dad, but I don’t need to. A few of the guys approach Declan and I figure that’s as good of an opportunity as I’m going to get to approach. She’s been clear that she doesn’t want Coach to know about us, but if other guys are around, then I’m less obvious. Well, if I can keep my hands to myself.
Patrick opens the circle when he spots me and claps me on the shoulder. “Nice assist tonight, Rook.”
“Thanks.”
Kaitlyn’s dad smiles and extends a hand. “Declan.”
“Lex,” I say as we shake.
“Nice to meet you.” He sips from the drink in his other hand.
