I cuddle him closer to my chest. I’m telling him he’s the best boy and how much I’m going to miss him while I’m on the road when Colleen crouches down and quietly says, “How about I speak with Coach to see if you can take him home for longer than a day?”
My eyes widen. “Really? This better not be some kind of prank, Colleen. I am the pranker, not the prankee.”
“Not a prank,” she clarifies, stroking her palm over Boomer’s smooth head. “You two have a bond, that much is obvious. And I know it would mean a lot, so let me see what I can do.”
I give Colleen a wide grin before turning my attention back to Boomer. “You hear that, buddy? You might be able to come home with me one day. Then you can meet my Hunter. He gives really good cuddles too. Oh my god! We could have the best cuddle puddle on the couch.” I smoosh his face again with my hands, and he lolls his tongue out happily. “It’ll be epic.”
The fans roar as the buzzer sounds in Edmonton a few days later, and I drop my head in defeat. No matter how far I stretched my arms or kicked out my legs, I couldn’t seem to stop the pucks from sailing past me into the net.
Tonight, there are no head taps for me, and the reality of that is like the weight of an elephant sitting on my chest. The team is disappointed in me. They probably blame me for our loss.
Blaine waits for me by the bench, looping his arm around my back as we make our way down the tunnel.
“Are you okay?” he asks quietly before we enter the locker room.
I’m not, but I’m not going to let anyone know that. So I give a shaky nod, grateful my mask is hiding most of my face.
Fuck. I want to cry. This is so dumb.
I hand my stick over to the equipment manager, Jordan, then head to my appointed cubby in the visitors’ locker room and start removing my pads in silence. The air is so thick in here it feels suffocating.
We were up 2-1 going into the third period, but then Edmonton came out flying. They had a strong comeback, and the final score was 2-6. I let in five goals in that period.Five. And one was an own goal after the puck bounced off Kendrick’s skate.
I’m going to be lucky if Coach Harris doesn’t trade me because I’ll bet he’s disappointed in me. But not as much as I’m disappointed in myself.
Fuck. I was terrible out there.
I’m unlacing my skates when Coach Harris walks in, his face hard and unamused.
“What the fuck happened tonight?” he says, tone dripping with frustration. “Did you forget we’re the reigning Stanley Cup champions, or did you wake up and decide we’re back to day one of whatever mite league you played in?” He paces the visitors’ locker room, jaw so tight I can see the muscle bunching in his cheek. “The worst thing of all?Youleft your goalie out to dry. Yeah, he wasn’t perfect, but you fucking sucked, and that’s putting it nicely. You missed every single rebound opportunity. You didn’t listen to him. You didn’t listen tomewhen I saidwe need to play defensively. A fucking wet sponge could’ve been more defensive than how you played tonight. I was going to pull Olsen at one point. Teach you all a fucking lesson, but I thought, you know what? He’s the only one out there who has any fucking drive tonight, and every. Single. One of you let him down. You let yourselves down, and you let me down.” He points to himself.
I stare at a spot on the floor, my eyes burning as Coach continues to address the room. The knot of shame in my throat thickens, threatening to choke me.
“You better think fast and buck your fucking ideas up against Calgary in forty-eight hours, or I swear to god, there’s going to be consequences. Tonight, you were not the team I know you are, and it was not good enough.”
He marches out of the room, and the room is so silent you could hear a pin drop. My heart is beating so wildly in my chest, my hands begin to tremble in my lap.
Blaine gives my knee a squeeze, but I can’t bear to look up.
I manage to head into the showers and get dressed without making eye contact with anyone. Peyton disappears to do press, and then we all climb onto the bus and head back to the hotel for the night. We fly to Calgary tomorrow morning, where we have a day off before our game. I wouldn’t be surprised if we end up on the ice for a last-minute practice to address everything we—or should I say,I—did wrong.
It wasn’t just you, the logical part of my brain says. But I ignore it.
Yeah, hockey is a team sport, but I’m the last line of defense, and I failed big-time tonight. I always take losses hard, and while I know it’s impossible for me to win every game I play, some nights it hits me harder than others. Sometimes the shroud of disappointment is more than I can handle.
“We’re gonna grab some grub in the bar. Are you joining us?” Zach asks when we enter the hotel foyer.
I shake my head. I don’t want to be social right now. “No, I think I’m just gonna go to my room.”
He frowns. “You need to eat.”
“I’ll order some room service or something. I just…” My voice cracks, shame washing over me again. I’m grateful Zach seems to pick up on what I’m unable to say. His big hand clasps my shoulder.
“You know where I am, okay? Just text me. This isn’t on you, so don’t you go beating yourself up over it.”
Nodding, I force a smile.
Blaine comes over and wraps his arms around me in a tight hug. I return his embrace, squeezing my eyes shut.
