SASHA
The sights and sounds of an early fall morning in the remote woods surrounding the lakefront cabin I called home greeted me as I stepped out on the deck with my morning coffee. Hawk, my solid black Belgian Shepherd, trotted along with me, huffing a sigh as he dropped into his favorite spot. He could watch the birds and squirrels with ease. He was a good boy and wouldn’t think to chase after them, but he loved to track their movements.
Early morning skates and conditioning had trained the night owl out of me years ago. It was one thing I was happy about now that I hated when I was still playing. But those days were done for. My life as a hockey player came to an extremely abrupt, excruciatingly painful halt.
And years later, I wasfinallystarting to find things to make life worth living again. Kind of any way.
I still missed hockey. Every minute of every day.
My phone buzzed in my pocket several times, but I ignored it. As I always do thistime of year. Hockey teams, looking to add to their coaching staff, called repeatedly every off-season. As did my agent. The calls would finally stop when they found someone, or they’d take a hint and move on. I wanted no part of it. I wanted to play, not coach.
The buzzing continued until Hawk, my trained service dog, lifted himself from the deck and nosed the back pocket holding my phone.
“Yeah, buddy, I know,” I said, patting his head as the buzzing stopped.
The player who hit the puck that ended my hockey career showed up at the hospital with Hawk when he learned the injury robbed me of not only my career, but my vision and hearing on one side. The injury wasn’t his fault. Hockey was a dangerous sport, but if our places were reversed, I would’ve felt the same way. At least now. The guy I’d been before the injury… well, it was probably better for the world that I got knocked down a peg or two.
The buzzing started again, and this time, Hawk added a whine to the nose bump. Groaning, I pulled the blasted device from my pocket. I contemplated chucking it at the trees surrounding the house, but I knew from experience Hawk would only chase it down and bring it back to me.
My brow pinched at the name on the screen.Anya Rustav. Why would she be calling me? I’d not spoken with her or Mikal since the day I threw him out of my hospital room seven years ago.
“Anya?”
“No, Storm, it’s Mikal, but as usual, my wife was right.”
Storm. No one had called me that in years. Not since the injury.
“Oh yeah. What was the beauty you married, but don’t deserve, right about this time?”
“You answered her call but ignored my own.”
I pulled my phone from my good ear, turning on the speakerphone to check the missed calls. Sure enough, there were no less than ten missed calls from Mikal and several more from Rustav Ice Rink.
“I’ve already turned down coaching positions for several colleges and pro teams. Mikal, I’m not interested in a job.”
“I know, but I’m calling in a favor.”
“A favor? Since when do I owe you a favor?”
“Is that not the right term?”
“No, love, it isn’t. If anyone owes a favor, it is you to Sasha?”Anya said in the call’s background.
I rolled my eyes. Nearly twenty-five years had passed since Mikal Rustav came to this country to play hockey, and he’s still mixing up phrases, it seemed.
“What’s the favor you’re asking for, Mikal?”
“Oh yes. That is the term. I’m asking for a favor.”
“Yeah, I got that. What is it?”
“Come out of hiding and coach my son’s hockey team.”
“No.”
“Please, Sasha. You were the star. Are the star everyone wants. Still. Our boy deserves his shot. He’s so very good, but his coach…”
“Wait, since when do you have a kid?”
