Tierney
Miss you, Han.
How’s everything going?
Me
Today is day one in my attempt to find the magic in skating again.
Tierney
!!!!!
So excited for you.
The rink is less fun without you there, but I’m proud of you for taking care of yourself.
Me
Catch up after Thanksgiving?
Tierney
Please! Sending you a big hug and lots of love today.
Me
Thanks, T. I need it.
With two coffeesin my hands, I take a seat on the players’ bench, utterly exhausted. I tossed and turned all night, wondering how this session is going to go. It’s an unconventional approach to burnout, but I’m so desperate to get to the root of my problems, I’m willing to try anything.
That includes enlisting the help of the hockey coach I hooked up with to make it happen.
Brody texted me early this morning to change our meeting location from the practice facility to the arena where the Stars play their home games, and I glance up at the championship banners proudly hanging from the rafters. Two of them were won under his helm, and if anyone knows anything about skating, it’s the guy who brought a franchise back from the brink of death.
“Good morning.” Brody walks my way in a hoodie, loose athletic shorts, and a backward hat. He’s holding his skates in one hand, and there’s a whistle looped around his neck that rests against the center of his chest. “You’re here early.”
Still hot as hell, I muse to myself, and I take a sip of my drink—burning my tongue in the process—to get the thought out of my head.
“Morning. Blame the nerves for my promptness.” I hold up his coffee. “I come bearing caffeine.”
“Thank you. We were delayed out of Minnesota because of weather, and I didn’t make it home until almost three.” He yawns and accepts the drink, taking a sip. “Tastes great.”
“I can’t tell you how much pressure I felt to get your order right.”
“There doesn’t need to be any pressure. It’s not like I would’ve thrown it at you if it was wrong.” He huffs, fighting back a smile. “Probably would’ve screamed though.”
“I asked the very nice barista if she could add an extra shot of espresso, and she was happy to oblige.”
“Crisis averted.” Brody looks at the ice, then at me. “How do you want this session to run?”
“I’m not sure, to be honest. I’m open to ideas.”
“You’re very clearly not a hockey player.”
“That’s a bold assumption,” I tease. “Grant used to hit pucks at me so he could practice his slap shots.”
“I hope you were wearing the right gear.”
