Here, on this bike, I can be whoever the hell I want to be, and no one would know the difference. Shit, no one would fucking care. On these two wheels, I can be exactly who I want to be—me. It's just a shame that it ends here, as I turn onto the arena's street.
Pulling into the covered lot, I ride directly to where my teammates' sports cars and SUVs are parked in our secure designated area. Easing into my spot, I settle my weight backwards, cut the engine, and stomp down the kickstand with the heel of my black boot. Savoring my last beat of silence and fresh air, I remove my helmet and run my hand through my hair.
I spot the black and red shuttle parked by the back entrance, the Flames logo sparkling from the morning sun. It's the first sign of a new season. We're back to traveling, hotels, and pregame rituals. I'll do my thing, some of the boys will tape their sticks in exactly the same way at the exact same time. Others will eat the same meal they've had before every other game and drink Gatorades with only a certain color cap. Burnsey will take his hour-long nap, Ward will tap his stick against the goal posts to the beat ofEye of the Tiger, and Petrov will do… well, I don't actually know what he does. Either way, I'm not sure if I'm ready for any of it. It's all just a precursor to what's coming. But I have to be.
Sliding off the bike, I work my shoulders to relieve some of the tension my backpack caused while I was crouched over the handles, then set my helmet on its spot behind the seat. Strolling over to the bus, I run my thumb side to side along the bottom of my chain—the closest thing I have to reassurance. At the same time, Burnsey runs to catch up with me from his blacked-out Hummer.
"What up, broski? Big day! You ready?" He claps me on the shoulder as we head toward the bus.
I nod slowly, sliding my backpack down one arm and tucking my keys into the front pocket.
Burns falls into step beside me as I throw it back over my shoulder. "I stay ready. You know this," I say just a couple feet from the door.
He taps his elbow into mine, a cheesy grin resting on his face. "Atta boy."
We walk the few steps it takes to get to the stairs leading onto the bus. Brett matches his pace to mine, and I take slow, steadying breaths until Brett stops abruptly, turning around to face me.
I blink with genuine confusion. "Can I help you?"
He shoves his hands into his pockets and narrows his eyes. "You good, man?"
I shift my weight, already feeling the walls go up. "Burns, you just asked me that."
He shakes his head as he adjusts the strap of his duffle bag hanging off of his shoulder. "I asked if you'reready. Now, I'm asking if you'regood."
My stomach drops the way it always does when someone threatens to cut a hole in the facade. Brett's my best friend—obnoxious as hell—but the guy is solid. He's got my back no matter what, both on and off the ice. He's the only one who really gets how heavy this past year has been, but even he doesn't know the full story.
Brett has his own reputation to uphold as the team clown, always diving onto the ice or back flipping on skates. But it's not the same. People don't ride him the way they do me. And with his picture-perfect family and golden retriever vibes, pressure doesn’t seem to stick anyway.
"I'm good, man," I say, dropping my hand onto his shoulder. I decided a long time ago that I wasn't going to burden anyone else with my secret. I damn sure don't plan to start now. "Just locking in. You know how I get."
He studies me for a beat too long before nodding slowly. "You sure?"
"Dude..."
"Alright, alright." He laughs, his hands up in surrender. "New season, same Cap."
I roll my eyes, tucking both thumbs under the straps of my backpack, then toss the kid a bone. "I was thinking about switching up my pregame routine though."
Burnsey's face twists up like I told him that he and Ward were swapping positions. "You mean you aren't gonna disappear to a secluded spot to listen to your angsty shit beforehand?"
I shake my head, biting the inside of my cheek. "I mean, I didn't saythat. But I don't know, just mix it up. Maybe start slow and change up the night before first." I let out a heavy breath. "Try to make this season as different as I can from last year's, ya know?"
Burns nods in understanding, or at least the half he can, and offers his usual easygoing grin. I don't want to distance myself from the boys more than I usually do, but I also needsomethingto change this year. If it can't be my game or my persona, maybe a few extra hours of peace is a good place to start.
Brett looks down at his gold Rolex, then back up at the bus. "Alright, I get that. But give me the next twenty-threeish minutes at least. Sound good?"
I huff out a laugh. "Yeah, bro. You got it."
His smirk grows into a full-on smile as he turns and walks onto the shuttle. Pausing to let him climb the stairs, I bring my first two fingers to my nose and pinch the bridge.Here we go.
I take one deep breath before walking onto a bus full of guys who need me to be at the top of my game, and trying to pretend I don't feel like I'm drowning.
"What's up, assholes!"
"Drewww," they all drag out in unison, their voices low and lazy.
I smile and tip my chin up, heading right for the back.
