Page 53 of Mister Hockey
“You don’t think I tried?” Jed knew his voice was sharp, but something felt broken inside him, the pieces jagged and grating. “I met this woman. It was unexpected. The connection. The attraction. It was a whirlwind. But the whole time it felt right,” he quietly declared. “It felt real... natural even. Not a single alarm bell ever went off that she was playing me for a long-game.”
“You know what? You keep talking about that girl,” Tor said. “Not about retiring.”
Jed froze. Shit. Coach had a point. He was mourning Breezy more than his career. He lowered his chin, glaring at his sneakers. What the hell did that mean? His phone started ringing. “Twenty bucks it’s my agent.”
“Or one of the guys.” Tor tore the label off his bottle, rolling it neatly.
Shit. Of course. All his teammates would be seeing the retirement news pop up on their feed, or on the news. They’d be blindsided. “I’ll get back to them later,” he said, flicking off his phone without looking at the screen. He wanted to tune everything out.
“What’ll you do now?” Tor asked. “If you don’t play?”
The unsettled feeling in his stomach became turbulent. “Truthfully, I don’t have the first fucking clue. I’ve got money. I’ve got time. So I’m lucky.”
“Got enough rope to hang yourself.”
Coach was also a “glass is half-full” type.
“I’m surprised you haven’t given me shit for retiring.”
Tor was quiet a moment. “I’m not happy, but from the little you’ve told me about your brother, I understand why you wouldn’t want to push it.” Tor was one of the few people in the world that he’d opened up to about Travis’s injuries. Coach understood that Jed wasn’t embarrassed about his brother, but wanted to look out for him, the best way he knew how. Travis coped when his world was kept quiet, with strict structure and routine. The highs couldn’t get too high or the lows too low.
Nothing in Jed’s career invited that.
And as Travis’s condition deteriorated, any fluctuation in those routines made him increasingly agitated and erratic. And being around Jed only exasperated his own sense of loss.
“The roster’s undergoing a major state of transitions,” Tor continued. “Veterans are being traded. You’re out. We might opt to rotate alternate captains for the moment. See who rises. Petrov might make a solid bridge to the newer players.”
“Have you thought about Patch Donnelly?” The quiet new goalie had an unexpected maturity.
“Him?” Tor’s brow creased. “Donnelly strings five words together on a good day.”
There was that. “Focus on getting him out of his shell next season. He’s a Catholic boy, right? Played at Boston College. I hear he goes to church every morning during the off-season. Petrov said he was almost a priest.” Jed’s muscles loosened as his brain whirled, reviewing the goalie’s strengths and weaknesses.
“A good goalie lets go of fear, lives fully in the present.” Tor shook his head. “He’s not there. Not yet anyway. But I’ll give him opportunities to prove me wrong.”
Jed regarded Tor with approval. “You would have made a good general, Coach.”
“Probably.” Nothing else was forthcoming. Coach wasn’t big on small talk or humility.
They spent the next hour drinking good beer and playing air hockey before Coach checked his watch with his usual abruptness. “Hey, I got to run. It’s my night with Olive,” he said by way of explanation. He shared custody of his daughter with his ex-wife and her fiancé. “I’ll drop you off on the way.”
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll Uber.” But once Jed left Coach’s condo, a walk sounded better. He kept to shady residential streets, crossing the road if anyone was on the sidewalk or in their front yard. It took a few times before he shook his head, laughing at himself. Not everyone was looking for him. Hell, most weren’t even thinking about him.
“Paranoid much?” he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets. His retirement from the Hellions was newsworthy, but it wasn’t like he’d negotiated peace in the Middle East. Soon even the most die-hard fans would move on. Embrace the new roster. Focus on the new season.
And what would he have once the limelight faded?
More importantly,whowould he have?
Coach had believed Breezy’s denial. Jed stared up at the sunlight filtering through the maple leaves. Had he been wrong to come to a snap judgment? He’d gone into lockdown mode when he looked in that box, then remembered the closet she had steered him from the day her room flooded.
After that it was all over. He’d tried and sentenced her without letting her offer any explanation.
Kind of an asshole move, really.
No wonder she decked him. He rubbed his cheek. The moment he’d been tested, he’d retreated. Freaked out. Acted like a coward.
Bitterness flooded his mouth.
