Page 64 of Slapshot
“At first, hockey was something we did—just the two of us. But as I got older, it became another place that I felt inferior. And, yeah, I loved it when it was this special and sacred thing, but not when I realized people were watching me so closely. I was under a magnifying glass all the time when I was on the ice. And coaches were terrified to give me any type of instruction. They probably thought my dad would blow a gasket or something if they gave me the wrong advice.”
“Gotta admit. That doesn’t sound so awful to me.” I give her a rueful smile. “I nearly got laughed out of the place when I showed up to try out for my local club team and they found out I’d never played before, save some goofing off and camps the summer before.”
“You worked hard. I think that’s really admirable.” She leans her head on my shoulder. “Anyway, it was easier to let him have that world and find things of my own. I just didn’t realize it was the only thing holding us together.”
“Maybe, let it be a bridge. Something you both love that helps you connect and then work on the rest.”
“A bridge?”
“Yeah.” I kiss the top of her head. “You gotta start somewhere.”
“Vonne,” Coach Keller barks my name and I jump. I’m not ashamed to say the man scares me on the regular, but I’m sweating bullets as I realize I just kissed Kaitlyn in front of him.
“Yeah, Coach?” I ask and then clear my suddenly squeaky voice. Kaitlyn moves her head from my shoulder.
“Back of the bus, son. You two can canoodle on your own time.” He moves to his seat.
“Well,” I say, looking at my girl. “Looks like he knows.”
“Kill me now,” Kaitlyn groans. “Canoodle?”
I chuckle at her embarrassment and then kiss her. At this point, what difference does it make? Reluctantly, I stand. “Later, baby doll.”
19
Kaitlyn
Dad’s waiting for me in the hotel lobby when the bus arrives. Since the team’s in Amherst to play, my dad rented a car and came with us. He’ll drive the rest of the way back to Boston tomorrow after the game.One more day.
I drop my stuff in my room and we walk over to the restaurant next door ahead of the team.
“I forgot to ask how your interview with Hawthorne went?”
“Good, I think. I won’t know anything for a while.”
“I still have a contact over there, I could–”
“Oh my gosh, no.” My face heats with embarrassment at even the idea of him calling to put in a good word or ask a favor. “Dad, that’s horrifying.”
He chuckles. “Okay, okay.”
“Promise me that you will not pull strings to get me a job. I want to do this on my own.”
He smiles, a proud type of smile that I haven’t seen in a long time. “I promise.”
“Speaking of internships,” I say. “Did you extend any offers yet?” Dalager Sports summer internships are extremely competitive. Even people that don’t care about hockey (though, let’s be honest, those people are few and far between) line up for the opportunity to work there. The office is in a great location downtown Boston, the pay is the best you could hope for, and NHL players are known to wander the halls. Two summers ago, a kid got scouted and signed thanks to a pickup game with my dad and some of his friends.
“Not yet, but I have a good feeling I’m just about to find the perfect person.”
“Did any of the guys from the team apply?” We wait for the team in the front area of the restaurant.
“A few did, yeah.”
The guys start to catch up to us. They’re eager to eat, and probably to hang with my dad some more. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to people fawning over him.
The past week with my dad, things have been… good. It feels more comfortable between us than it has in a long time. I’m not going to lie; I think part of the reason this visit has been different is because of the boy walking toward us.
Lex grins. Hands shoved in his pockets, he ambles slower than the rest of the guys. He always seems to know just what to say or do to help me focus on the here and now instead of obsessing about the past.
