Max is standing in the benches, hands in his pockets and eyes fixed on the ice in a reverent sort of contemplation.
“Max, hey.” I lift a hand.
He raises one of his enormous paws in return.
Max looks like someone who had a growth spurt in childhood and then he never stopped growing.
“Sorry for calling you while you were celebrating,” Max says. “My schedule’s so busy that I don’t think I could have fit in this conversation any other time.”
“You’re a team manager doing team manager things. I get it.”
“Yeah.” Max clears his throat.
In the silence that follows, I become more aware of the dull ache in my leg. It’s like a warning bell, harkening that the pain is about to get worse soon. It’s only a matter of time before my pills wear off, and I don’t want to be anywhere near Max when that happens.
“You used to play in college, right?” I try to jog the conversation.
It’s a rumor that I heard somewhere, but I’m certain it’s true. The way Max is looking at the rink reminds me of the way my grandfather would stare lovingly at my grandmother’s picture before jumping into a story of how they met.
“I played with Chance. We were roommates. Always talked about getting drafted together. But then I hurt my shoulder.” Max rotates his arm. “And that was it. In one day, my dreams were gone. I couldn’t play hockey anymore no matter how much I wanted to.”
His words are like a cold bucket of ice washing over me.
It’s too close.
Too real.
“I fought it.” Max shakes his head and chuckles faintly. “I fought it hard, man. I wanted to get back to hockey. Wanted to get back to the game. But my body wasn’t listening. It couldn’t do it anymore. I was mad. Pretty much torpedoed my life trying to get back at…”
He inhales. “I don’t know who. I was just lashing out at anything. It was unfair. Other people were squandering their opportunities to play. And there I was, willing to do anything. I would have doneanything. I just wanted a chance. When thatoption was taken away, I didn’t feel like I had anything to live for.”
I stare soberly at the ice, his words knocking into my chest like a fist.
I lived that. Had those very thoughts when I was lying on my back in the hospital room, in the dark, in the quiet, wondering if I was being stupid. If my parents were right. If the doctors were right. If it was better to just give up. Admit defeat.
And yet, I couldn’t.
I needed hockey like I needed air.
“I thought I’d dealt with all that,” Max motions to his head, “drama. I thought owning a hockey team would make me forget. I figured I couldn’t play anymore, but I could take a team of gifted, talented, hardworking players to the top.” Max looks at me. “I was excited to have you in the training camp.”
“You were?” That’s news to me. Every time I got into Max’s orbit, he treated me like a bug he wanted to flick off his windshield.
Max’s eyebrows jump when he sees my disbelief. “Nathan Campbell, star rookie. Chance McLanely’s league stand-in? Are you kidding?”
“I got the vibe that you could barely look at me.”
Max clears his throat. “You were perfect on paper, Campbell. But when I saw you hit the ice, there was a part of me that…” He shrugs. “I don’t know. I couldn’t take it. I kept comparing myself to you, wondering if that would have been me if only I hadn’t given up. Maybe if I’d pushed back at the doctors and insisted on training, I could have found a way to stay in the game.”
“I wouldn’t recommend disagreeing with a team of doctors,” I admit. “It was extremely painful. Almost impossible. They knew what they were talking about. Believe me. I suffered a lot and failed for a long time before I saw any progress.”
“But now you’re here,” Max says.
I bob my head, grateful. “Now, I’m here.”
The ache in my leg throbs like a heartbeat.
‘For how much longer?’the ache hisses like a snake.
