“Yeah. It’s… It won’t be bad.” He swallowed hard. “I’m not worried about that part. Being away from you, yeah, but…” He trailed off as his eyes lost focus.
“So… what’s bothering you?”
“Getting reactivated.” He flicked his gaze back to mine again. “I’ve been gone for—God, almost two months. What if I’ve lost a step? What if I can’t get back to how I was playing before?”
“You’ve been on LTIR before, haven’t you? For even longer?”
He nodded.
“This won’t be any different, will it?”
“Except it will.” His shoulders dipped a little. “When I’m out with a broken jaw or a concussion, everyone gets it. It’s an injury—they happen. But being out for…” His face colored and he dropped his gaze.
“I know a lot of people can be shitty about addiction,” I whispered. “But you know the guys can’t wait to have you back. The fans, too—they’ve been asking about you for a while. Theywantyou back.”
“Yeah?”
“Of course.” I leaned in and pressed a kiss to his temple. “You’ll see. Everyone’s been rooting for you. Everyone.” Icarded my fingers through his hair. “Anyone who thinks less of you for grieving and for needing help—their opinion isn’t worth a damn. The people who care about you—including the fans—want you to be healthy, and they want you back playing hockey as soon as you’re ready.” I smiled. “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised when you come back.”
He held my gaze, uneasiness still etched all over his expression. After a moment, he relaxed, though some of the uncertainty lingered. “I guess we’ll find out after I get back from Wheeling, won’t we?”
“Yeah. We will.”
I understood why he was nervous. In his skates, I’d probably feel the same way.
But I knew our team. I knew the fans.
And I knew all the way to my core that Avery had nothing to worry about.
CHAPTER 41
AVERY
My conditioning loan to the minors turned out to be a lot more fun than I anticipated. It sucked being away from Peyton for two very long weeks, but it was great to get back out onto the ice. Playing and practicing alongside the younger players was a blast, too; our GM had been working some serious magic in building up our farm team, which meant we’d have some excellent young talent coming up in the next couple of years.
I played five games with them, and I didn’t care what level this was—scoring four goals and six assists was still satisfying as hell. The fans seemed thrilled, too, and I signed quite a few autographs before and after the games.
Tonight, though—tonight I was nervous.
Because this would be my first time playing in a Whiskey Rebels sweater since I’d entered the program.
I’d kept up my conditioning, and I’d had the time in the minors to help in that department too, but I wouldn’t be a hundred percent tonight. There was no avoiding that. Every point was critical right now, and the last thing we needed was a player who was still getting his timing back.
I even suggested that Coach drop me down to the bottom six for a game or two just to help me find my stride, but he refused.
“I’ve got faith in you, Calds.” He put a hand on my padded shoulder. “You haven’t been out that long, and I know you’ve been practicing with the guys. You’ll be fine.”
Well, we’d find out, wouldn’t we?
I’d had teammates before who’d returned from the player assistance program, and they’d always been met with enthusiastic cheers from the crowd. None of them had ever been booed—everyone was always as thrilled to see someone return from the program as from an injury or an illness.
That didn’t stop me from expecting them to boo me.
“We always expect the best reactions for everyone but ourselves,”Shannon had told me this morning.“But most people are kind and supportive, and I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”
She’d also mentioned she and her wife had bought tickets for tonight’s game. That meant that as I stepped out for warmups, somewhere in this arena, my therapist was probably smiling to herself because she and I both knew she’d been right.
The second I came out of the tunnel, the crowd went nuts. I could tell whenever the camera was on me because they’d go wild all over again. There were signs. There were people banging on the glass. People were chanting my name.
