We’re about four days into training, so we’re seeing who can really dig in and who can’t. In my head, I can see the lines forming, even though we’ve got another week of training plus pre-season. I’m getting more and more pumped about this year. We’ve got real talent here.
For once, my day is going well. Karl and Shane are only a minor pain in my ass, and Madison invited me to dinner tonight. Just me, no Walker. Which means I get my girl all to myself. Okay, she’s not my girl yet, but I’m working on it.
There’s a scrimmage this afternoon, so I know we’ll need to keep a close eye on Karl and Shane. I try not to let it get to me when I notice them whispering like a couple of high school girls. I’m not the only one who notices. Walks and Orly are also watching. Orly heads over to chat with Coop and Burnsy, the other two alternate captains. I take a deep breath and let myself relax a bit. Just having others see the issue is a tremendous relief. We all nod at each other, acknowledging our common enemy. Knowing I’m not alone like I used to be is everything.
We make it through most of practice without issue. I’m thinking we might get through this scrimmage without an incident. I should know better.
Walks is on a breakaway, but Coach is mixing up lines, so he’s watching Colly and Camps, two of the rookies, instead of the puck. Karl’s on defense with Holla for the white team, and Shane’s their center. Walks swings at the puck when Karl checks him from behind, leaping up so his elbow solidly clocks him in the helmet. Walker, instantly boneless, drops to the ice,unnaturally still. Karl skates away, smirking and congratulating himself, as if he had just won the cup.
I’m instantly enraged. I’m off the bench and skating across the ice before I know it. The trainers are running toward Walks, already calling for the doc. That motherfucker. I’ll fucking kill his miserable ass. I’m so pissed I can barely breathe, but I’m headed toward Bell. Someone calls my name, but I ignore it. When I hit him at full speed, the sound of it crashes through the arena. It’s not nearly as satisfying as I hoped when Bell goes flying backward and slams into the boards. He looks at me in disbelief. I skid to a stop right in front of him, purposely shooting a huge spray of ice all over him.
“What the fuck? Who does that to one of their own, you fucking dick.” I’m done trying to be diplomatic. Fuck this guy.
“What? It’s hockey. People get checked.” He shrugs as if an illegal hit is no big deal. The slowness of his movement after my hit is gratifying.
“You fucking asshole!” I’m already pulling off my gloves when someone grabs me from behind. I’m about to go off when I hear Orly’s voice from behind.
“He is not worth it. Do not lose your place because of that svolach.” Orly grabs my arm to pull me away from the situation.
“Fuck!” I shout, the fury inside me boiling up to the surface. “That was a dirty hit, Orly and you know it.”
“Yes, it was, my friend, but yours was not. If it stops here, no harm is done.” I know what he’s saying is perfectly reasonable, but, fuck, when is someone going to hold this guy accountable?
“Except to Walker.” I add bitterly. “Who fucking does that to their own teammates? What the fuck is his damn problem?”
“I do not know, but there will always be men like him. You cannot change that, sadly.” Orly’s deep voice is sad. Looks like I’m not alone when it comes to toxic teammates, which isgratifying. However, I can’t stoop to his level, not and lead this team, even though I’m certain it was deliberate.
“I know, man, I know. I’m okay.” Straightening up, I adjust my rucked-up sweater, trying to get my frustration under control. God, I’m going to need a long-ass run tonight to work through all this.
“Good to hear. Go check on your friend.” I almost fall over from his friendly back slap. I’m a big guy, but Orly’s huge. You’d think being so tall and bulky would slow him down, but nope. He’s fast. Far faster than his bulk would indicate, and it baffles his opponents. Despite towering over most of the team, it’s his bushy beard that garners him the most ribbing. He looks as if he just came down from the mountain after wintering with bears.
I skate over to Walker, relieved to see that he’s at least sitting up. The trainers are checking his pupils already, deep into concussion protocol. A direct hit to the head is never good. My anger at Bell flares up again, but I push it down. Orly’s right, even if I don’t like it. Would it feel incredibly satisfying to punch the fucker? Yes, it would. Am I going to do that? No, I’m not, but it’s hard to let go of the rage that’s been years in the making. Fortunately for me, Walker gets to his feet and starts heading for the bench, trainer on each arm, just in case.
“How’s your head?” I ask as I follow him off the ice. I’m hovering, but I don’t care.
“Hurts like hell, but it doesn’t look like a concussion. Getting a CT scan just in case.”
“That hard head of yours coming in handy.” I tease. He snorts.
“Fuck off,” he says without heat. “Gonna need ya to watch me tonight though.”
“Of course. I got you. All good.” I assure him.
Damn, well, I guess I used to have a date with Madison.
I try not to let my disappointment about missing dinner get me down. I was looking forward to seeing her, and the letdown goes deeper than I expect. Even though I know she’s in class, I shoot her a text canceling tonight and letting her know about Walker.
The only bright spot today is watching Bell get reamed by Coach as I’m leaving the arena. I can’t think of anyone who deserves it more.
Madison
It’s late Friday morning and I’m hurrying to lunch with Kenji. It’s only been a week since I moved out, but I’ve missed him more than I thought possible. Without our daily chats, life feels a bit lonely and I find myself wishing for his calm presence. Ace has become my sounding board these days. I mean, he’s a captive audience, so it’s pretty easy to get him to listen. He does that side head-cock thing dogs do, and it looks as if he’s really invested in what I’m saying. It helps that he comes up and snuggles into my leg once I’m finished. Dogs are the best. It’s not the same as Kenji, but it’s a close second, and it helps.
Ace is one hundred percent in love with Liam. Don’t get me wrong. My new dog loves me, too. I’m his favorite, but he absolutely adores going running with Liam every morning. He sits by the door at seven every single day, right next to the coat rack where I hang his leash. His dedication is just so endearing. I get this warm, fuzzy feeling every time I see it. It makes my day, even when I’m tired and haven’t had my coffee yet. Which is another thing that’s been happening lately. Liam’s been bringingme coffee. Every morning. It’s so considerate, and it literally makes my whole day brighter.
I’m finding it funny that I’ve seen Liam more in the last week than I have in the last two years. He does their morning run, and he still stops by after hockey to work with me on Ace’s training, despite being tired and sore. I’m not sure how I feel about it. Actually, that’s not true. It’s not that I don’t know, it’s that I can’t stop thinking... about him. About us. About the possibility of an “us”. All of the things.
I make them breakfast when they get back in the morning. It’s the least I can do. I know cooking isn’t his forte, and I don’t mind it. Plus, I love how appreciative he is when I do it. I catch myself looking up high-protein, high-carb breakfasts so I can make sure he’s got the right nutrition for the day’s training. Creating new recipes is more fun than I anticipated.
