Page 27 of Lucky Shot
“What position are you?” I ask.
“I’m a forward. I’ve played wing but I’m primarily a center.”
“Which means?”
His body language has relaxed and his expression doesn’t seem to hold any annoyance at my complete stupidity on his profession. I think I’ve figured it out. It’s hockey that makes him less grumpy. In Nick Galaxy’s world, people are the worst. But hockey and children are okay.
“I play in the middle on a line.”
“Like the lines on the ice? Blue, red…” I try to remember if there are other colors. I stared at the ice for hours today but still can’t picture it.
“No.” He shakes his head, a little of his usual scowl returning. “The three forwards make up a line. There are four lines, typically, and we rotate in and out, so no one is out on the ice for too long.”
“How long is too long?”
“Depends on a lot of things.”
“I’m sensing everything in hockey depends on a lot of things.”
“That’s not too different from everything else. One decision has cascading effects.”
My mind automatically goes to Matt. If I had never met him, never let him into my life, never fallen in love with him, I could have avoided so many problems.
Most likely I wouldn’t be here right now.
“Are you okay?” Nick asks, voice gentle in his question but somehow still taking on a slightly annoyed tone.
I shake my head to clear the thoughts. “Sorry. I was…I get it.”
He looks like he wants to ask more but doesn’t. “Forty seconds.”
It takes me a beat to realize he’s answering my question from earlier. “That’s quick.”
“Doesn’t feel like it when you’re out there.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” I look down at my notes.
“Have you ever skated before?” he asks.
“Me?” I squeak. “No way. I can barely stay upright on solid ground.”
“Ice is solid.”
I huff a laugh, and we smile over our food. Nick glances away first, then picks up his burger to take another bite. For a fewminutes we eat in silence while I try to figure out what else to ask him.
“What’s the season like?” I ask. “When do practices start? When are games? Championships? How long is the off-season?”
I think I remember Flynn saying that the hockey season wasn’t too different from baseball. Maybe all sports follow a schedule. A sports schedule? That could be a thing, right? Makes sense to me.
“We have training camp in mid-September. That kicks off practices, and regular season games begin in October.”
“Oh.” My brows furrow. That is not like baseball. There goes my sports schedule theory. “When is the season over?”
“June, if you’re lucky. Playoffs start in April. Elimination style.”
“Meaning?”
“Only the winning team from each series moves on. Loser starts vacation.”
