Page 104 of From Ice to Grace
Brady Sullivan: You got ice time, brother. Not as much as you wanted, but it’s a start. Don’t do anything stupid tonight. Go home to your wife.
He knows me too well. I might not go pick a fight with Boqvist, or head to a bar to numb this feeling of rejection that’s coursing through me…but I will have to talk to Coach about this.
“I’ll find out after my shower,” I say, getting up and tossing my gear in the bin. Mitch nods, slapping me on the shoulder as I pass him to head to the showers.
When I’m done, I pull on my team sweats and head to Coach’s office. I knock on the door once, and he looks up, nodding.
“Thought I’d see you after the game,” he says, taking off his glasses and gesturing to the door. “Close that, will you?”
I close the door and settle in front of his desk.
“Mitch said you want me to go out for an interview tonight?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says. “The press will want to hear about your first game back. They’ll want to know about the suspension.”
I really want to avoid that. As far as I’m concerned it’s over. Brodin is cleared, he’s back on the ice. I paid my fine and I did my time.
Coach looks at me, his eyes narrowing. “They’ll ask you about Boqvist.”
I nod. “I figured.”
Coach leans back in his chair, crossing his arms. “I’m not blind, I can see the tension between the two of you on the ice.”
“You surprised?” I ask, unable to keep the bite from my voice. “He’s here to replace me.”
“He’s here for a try-out,” Coach says, sighing. “Listen, you played well out there tonight. You were sharp, under control.”
“The whole five minutes I got?” The sarcasm slips, unable to help myself.
Coach’s tone hardens. “Did you expect a hero’s welcome? You messed up, kid, and you’re going to have to work to get back to where you were.”
I bite my tongue, forcing myself to nod. “Understood.”
He studies me a second longer, then softens just a bit. “Listen, just go out there and tell the media that you’re glad to be back. And that Boqvist has done his part for the team. You don’t have to go into details.”
I nod. “Basically you’re telling me to not make things worse when they’re getting better.”
“Exactly.” He opens his laptop, setting his glasses back into place. “Now, get out there. They’re waiting for you.”
When I step back into the hallway, the noise has thinned. Half the team’s gone, while the rest can be heard from the media room. The high of being back is already fading, replaced by that gnawing frustration I can’t quite shake.
Somewhere down the hall I hear Avah’s voice.
And another one.
Low. And Swedish.
Boqvist.
22
AVAH
After the game, I wait outside the locker room for Declan. He played great tonight…but even I could see the look of disappointment on his face when the Coach called Axel onto the ice with Mitch for the last two shifts.
Declan just needs to remember that this is his first game back after the suspension. Plus, it’s still early in the season. Most teams are playing their bench, switching up lines and d-pairs to get a feel for what they need moving forward. Gaining back the trust of his Coach will take time, he just needs to be patient.
My stomach dips thinking about how he kissed me before the game. I know there were reporters watching but it didn’t feel like it was for show. The moment he kissed me, the press vanished. There was only the two of us and the way we seamlessly fit together.
