Page 20 of Riding Pine
There’s no shame in backing up the pro team. It would be nice to get the call-up, don’t get me wrong, but if this is all I have, I’ll take it.
After the puck drops, Smitty and I work to advance our line into the offensive zone. His passes are fast and efficient. Tape to tape, and he moves with confidence. He rushes low, and I cycle over to cover his position while the high forward drifts back to the blue line. Smitty loses his open scoring chance and sends the puck back to me before he’s knocked off the puck.
With the puck on my stick, I defend it until Smitty can regain his position. No clear shot exists for me, so I pass it back to Smitty and return to the other end of the blue line. He takes a shot, and there’s a flurry of bodies and sticks in front of the goal, but the puck squirts out back to the blue line, and this time I step forward to get the puck since all the forwards are covered.
A split-second hesitation ends it. I know Evans is fast and can pick my pocket cleanly, but I didn’t think he’d take a dirty shot in a practice scrimmage. His stick catches me in the chin as he checks me off the puck, and a warm flow of blood oozes.
“Fuck! That was no accident, you asshole!” He didn’t need to follow through on his attempt to take the puck like he did, and he knows it as he stands and smirks at me while I bring a hand to my face.
The other players skate down the ice, continuing the scrimmage, leaving me and Evans toe to toe.
“You’re only on this team to protect the rest of us with any talent, Piney. Or should I call you whiny?”
“Do you really want to do this with me?” Fisting his jersey in my hand, I yank him close as he laughs. “The only reason you don’t have a fist in your face right now is because it would make us both look bad.”
The whistle blows, and Coach calls our names.
“Pine, get that cut looked at. Evans, you stay after and skate until you puke. If you have a problem with a teammate, you come to me. If you ever try to hurt someone on this team again, consider your season over.”
Evans hates getting chewed out in front of the team, but he brought it on himself.
“Yes, Coach,” he grits.
Coach catches my eye, and I nod that it’s okay before leaving the ice for the training room. Upon entering, it’s still a mess of unpacked boxes of bandages and ice packs and whatever else they keep in these cupboards.
But the man in the room is familiar. How can it be him?
“Landon?”
The cheerful giant of a man turns with a welcoming grin.
“Lukas! Hey man! I’d ask how you’re doing, but the blood dripping from your chin is a giveaway.”
Landon was the trainer who stitched up my chin during a game in New York last year. He was filling in for us when our trainer ended up getting food poisoning on the road. I took a puck to the face, and I was damn lucky it didn’t break my jaw. Landon stitched me up and chatted the whole time like we were the best of friends.
“I certainly wasn’t expecting to see you here.”
He motions for me to sit on the table and passes me a towel.
“Me neither, but the old team was just a contract. I filled in for the pros, then spent time with the farm team. But they didn’t renew me. Sounds like someone’s brother needs a job instead.” He shrugs it off as he snaps on a pair of gloves. “Now I’m here and admiring my suture job. Your chin looks pretty good.”
“Chicks dig scars, right?” I laugh at the old joke, even though it’s been years since I’ve been with a woman. Although guys dig scars, too. Ben seemed to be okay with it.
“So I’m told.” He dabs at the blood on my face. “This one won’t need stitches. I’ll use a Steri-Strip and you should be okay.”
As he rummages through the supplies, he chatters away, and that’s what drew me to him the first time. Well, other than the geyser of blood from my chin that gave me no choice but to see him.
“So how long have you been with the Aspens? A summer trade?”
“It wasn’t even a trade. My contract was up, and I was in the right place at the right time. I signed for one year to play here, but…”
Fuck, I do not want to say this out loud because it hurts. Landon’s face softens as he cleanses my cut. He knows.
“It’s hard, I know. But no hockey on ice doesn’t mean no hockey ever, right? Coaching, training, scouts. There are a lot of opportunities. And some don’t travel, which is a bonus too.”
Landon applies two strips to my chin. “Good as new.”
He smiles, and I remember the first time we met, just like this. I would have asked him out for a drink if I weren’t so sore from that hit.
