I think back to the game that pushed me over the edge. I had shots on goal out of the ass that game but couldn’t land a damn thing. My knee was burning like hell, but I’d made a solemn vow to myself never to play when I wasn’t sober. Hockey wasn’t that kind of game. But it was the third game in a series, the night right after the second game and only a day between the first and second.
The truth was, I was playing with a bit of a hangover, which was saying something considering how far I’d had to push my limits to get a hangover in those days. Looking back, I was actually in limbo—hungover from the night before, already obsessing about getting my fix after the game.
And I had. I had a twink in my room and pills I didn’t even look at or question before I took them followed by a shot or two.
All I did know was that the knee quit hurting and the worries left my mind.
I’d been terrified of how bad my knee hurt and what that meant. Terrified enough that I overdid it and missed practice the next day and someone had to come find me. I guess that was Jerry. And if the team sent him then I did a shit job of hiding what was happening with me from the Knights.
I take a breath, blinking back into the present with Jerry.
“Thank you,” I manage. “For putting me on that plane, Jer.” I laugh. “I don’t remember it, just so you know, so I have no idea how much of an asshole I was to you. But I can guess.”
Jerry shrugs like it’s water under the bridge.
“How’s the knee? I couldn’t tell it bothered you on the ice.”
“It didn’t until I took that body check.”
“In the second?”
“Yeah.”
Jerry nods. “Still, I would like you to see the trainer in the morning.”
“I can do that.”
Jerry gives me a smile, and we shoot the shit for a bit as I finish my dinner. I move the ice to get up and throw away my trash and move around a bit before reapplying the ice once more before bed, and Jerry stands too, as if he’s going to leave.
“Welcome back, Monroe. Even if it’s only for a few games. It’s good to see you back in the Knights’ colors,” he says, and I shake his hand as he heads for the door.
Opening it, he pauses.
“You weren’t an asshole. Just so you know.”
I look at him in surprise.
“You were scared, I think.”
I nod. “Still, I—“
Jerry holds up a hand. “We recruit you guys young, Roe. Then expect you all to handle the stress, the fame, the pace—all of it. Everyone struggles with that pressure.”
I take a breath and wonder if he isn’t also thinking about the hotshot, Dom, who had an off game tonight.
“You know, my knee . . .” I force the words out. “It’s better. But it’s never going to be the same as when I started.”
“Just keep it up, Roe. What you’re doing is all we’re asking for, not miracles. Maybe it becomes an issue, maybe it doesn’t.”
“Right now, it isn’t,” I assure him.
He smiles. “That’s all I need to know.” Jerry looks like he’s going to say something else, but a call starts ringing through my iPad that I had set up hoping to call Thatch later.
Jerry nods toward the tablet. “See you tomorrow, Roe.”
I watch him leave and make my way over to catch the call before it rings out, smiling when Gabe’s face fills my screen.
“Hey,” I say, easing back onto the bed, elevating the knee without the ice.
