He straightened a little. “Really?”
“Hell yeah. I mean, on the last road trip, me and Baddy stopped to sign for some fans outside the hotel in Tampa. Lot of them were asking about you.”
Avery blushed again. “They were?”
I nodded. “Uh-huh. They wanted to know how you were doing. If we thought you’d be back this season.” I smiled. “Some of the kids waiting outside of practice the other day told us to tell you they’re already making signs for your first game back.”
“Holy shit,” he murmured.
“I’m serious,” I said softly. “The fans miss you, and so do we.”
Avery winced and dropped his gaze. “I feel like I let everybody down.”
“You didn’t. And nobody feels like you did.”
He gave a quiet, bitter laugh. “Tell that to the commenters on social media.”
“Pfft.” I rolled my eyes. “I don’t suppose you’ve read the comments by other people shutting those assholes down, have you?”
From the sheepish shrug, he had. He probably just hadn’t let himself believe that he had more defenders than detractors.
“There will always be people who hate some of us,” I said. “Hell, Ziggy’s first in the League for shutouts this season. Every time there’s an article mentioning him, though, there’s a handful of people who have to pipe up and talk about the bad season he had a couple of years ago and how he needs to be traded.”
Avery laughed, wiping a hand over his face. Then he reclaimed his coffee cup. “Yeah. That’s true. Haters gonna hate.”
“They are. The vocal minority assholes online are going to be vocal assholes no matter what. But the fans—” I gestured with my coffee cup toward the parking lot. “The real fans who actually come to games and understand that we’re as human as the next person—theysupport you.Theymatter.”
He studied me uncertainly, but after a moment, the tension in his neck and shoulders started to ease. “Maybe. It’s just hard to hear them over the haters, you know?”
“You could start by not reading the comments,” I said dryly.
That made him laugh for real. “Okay, okay. You’re not wrong.”
“Of course I’m not.” I nodded toward the other end of the building. “Now how about we get out of here so we can eat something?”
Avery’s stomach growled audibly. So did mine.
We both chuckled and headed for the player parking lot.
When Avery pulled out of his parking space, he smiled and waved, and then he was gone.
I indulged in a relieved sigh. I had no doubt rehab was tough on him, and being away from the team and the fans was even tougher. That was the thing about hockey—it became a player’s entire world, and being separated from that world and the people in it was devastating. I’d been suspended for two games during my second season, which meant I couldn’t even communicate with my teammates for five days. No practice, no travel, no meals, no games—they couldn’t even include me in the group text. That had been the longest five days of my career. I’d literally changed how I played after that to avoid another suspension just because I didn’t want to face another separation from my teammates, and I hadn’t had more than a double minor penalty since.
Avery could at least communicate with us, interact with us, and come to team functions.
Though he hadn’t been coming to any games or practices. The guys kept asking me about him because I was the only one who’d seen him in person since he’d started in the program.
Maybe I could coax him into playing with me and some of the other guys. After that, maybe a game. It would probably be good for him.
As I left the parking lot, I mentally strategized how I could persuade him to be around the team more. I didn’twant to coerce him into something he didn’t want to do, but maybe if I got him to see that it would do him good? That the guys wanted to see him and weren’t angry with him?
I’d work on it.
Maybe tonight over the salmon dinner I was making for the two of us.
CHAPTER 25
AVERY
