He and his mother sat in companionable silence for a moment, both remembering what it had been like when they first moved to Michigan.
Mitch had made fast friends with his United States National Team Development Program teammates, and spent several nights a week at one of their houses while his mom was working or in night school. He was old enough to take care of himself, but he hated being alone in an unfamiliar city, and his teammates and their families—some of them billet families—didn’t mind having him over for dinner. Mitch was an only child, so his teammates, wherever he was, had always become family to him. They’d always become like his brothers.
Those teammates had become an extension of the small unit that contained him and his mom, and though they were now in their thirties and spread far and wide across not only the U.S. but also the world, they still kept in touch.
And despite his tumultuous childhood, Mitch had always been a good student. He learned quickly, paid attention in class, and never missed assignments. Because of that, his teachers took a liking to him, always providing a solid, stable place to go for advice when his mom was busy.
He had said it before, and he would most certainly say it again, but moving to Michigan had been the best thing that ever happened to him and his mom.
And he had hockey to thank for that. Even if his playing career was over, he could never resent the game, not after everything it had given him.
Not after it had saved him.
A few weeks later, Mitch was back on his feet and back in Detroit for the first time since April, his trip through the airport when he arrived from California notwithstanding.
It was nearing Christmas, and his usual sure and confident stride had turned slow and stilted in deference to his back.
But he finally made his way into the arena, the barn he had called home ice for nearly five years. It was surreal being back in the building and walking down the tunnel where the ceiling soared. The rafters were full to capacity with all of the banners from the championships and other titles the Warriors had won in their long and storied franchise history.
He took a deep breath and started back down the tunnel, heading toward the locker room.
Nerves tightened his chest. He hadn’t seen these guys in almost eight months, and though not all of his former teammates would be behind that door, he had to mentally fortify himself for the blast of nostalgia he would experience when walking inside.
Finally, he couldn’t put it off any longer.
“Frambough!” Someone yelled from across the room, and soon he was wrapped in a bear hug, clutching his cane for dear life.
“Bro, my back,” he said to whoever was crushing him.
“Oh fuck, I’m so sorry,” he said, backing away, and Mitch smiled at Hank “Rat” Ratelle. “I was just so excited to see you. I can’t believe you’re back.”
“But don’t think you’re getting off easy, leaving us the way you did,” Tommy Grey said, walking up to clasp Mitch on the shoulder. “We’re still pissed as hell about that.”
Mitch nodded. “Understandably so. It’s a long story but basically…”
“You don’t have to explain anything to us now,” his former captain Jordan Dawson said as he walked up to join their little pow wow. “We all just assumed it had something to do with Lexie.”
The room filled with awkward chuckles and snorts, and Mitch grimaced.
That woman followed himeverywhere.
Eventually, he would have to come clean about what happened between them, and his part in the destruction of the best relationship he’d ever had.
The relationship he thought he’d have forever.
He shook off that thought and made his way over to his old stall, which was now filled with the gear of Joel Schmidt, a young goalie they brought in to backup Brandon Roberts, the Warriors’ veteran starter.
He sat down heavily on the cushioned stool in front of it, lifting his head and finding his former teammates staring at him expectantly?
“What?” He asked.
“I think they’re expecting some kind of speech,” Coach said as he walked into the room. “The prodigal son returns and all that.”
Mitch swept his gaze around the room. “Don’t hold your breath.”
Everyone laughed, and the tension that filled the air moments before dissipated instantly.
Coach walked up to him and shook his hand. “Good to have you back, Mitch.”
