I shrugged. One pro of having amnesia was I didn’t remember my fears. There was nothing to fear unless I got bad results. Or unless it had to do with a certain bright-eyed girl.
“Spoke to Aden today and he said you’re on the right track.” Haynes nodded in approval. “As long as you keep up with your appointments with him and your primary care doctor throughout the week, you’ll be cleared to play during game time. I don’t want to hear about you skipping any check-ups.”
“Understood.” I didn’t let it show on my face, but the idea of having to check in with my doctor in addition to Aden throughout the week felt excessive. After coming back to campus, I’d hoped my interactions with poking and prodding doctors would be limited. I could handle Aden. The rest would be difficult.
Haynes cleared his throat, hesitating before continuing. He glanced at Stoll, who seemed to give him a nod of approval. My back stiffened, pain heightening as I braced myself for the bad news.
“Everything good?” I asked.
“Whitfield’s starting left wing this year. O’Brien’s in the second line and the other two are also full.” Haynes crossed his arms over his chest like he was bracing for some sort of pushback from me. “I don’t see that changing this season. There were a lot of guys vying for a starting spot. If you want time on the ice, you’ll have to work for it. Whitfield’s hungry, though. He won’t give it to you easily.”
Jack Whitfield was a cocky, loudmouth. I’d run into him in the locker room and quickly learned he liked mind games. That was useful as a hockey player but a nuisance from a teammate. I refused to let an ass like him beat me.
“I’m hungry too, sir,” I promised, squaring my shoulders. “I’ll work for it.”
“Just what we wanted to hear.” Stoll clapped my shoulder. I stared at the spot for a second. Who the hell was this guy? And why did it seem like I’ve had this conversation before?
“Coach,” Sam interrupted us, stopping right next to me. “Ready for us to switch out?”
“Oh, right!” Haynes whistled, getting the attention of the guys already on the ice.
“Mr. Stoll.” Sam nodded to the man and turned to ask me, “Ready for me to show you that play?”
What play?
I didn’t show the question on my face. I simply nodded and followed him.
“What was going on there?” Sam grabbed a puck and dribbled it as he spoke.
“Coach wanted me to know I’m not going to start any time soon.” I had to hold back the bite in my words. The decision made sense. I respected it and would have done the same if my player was in recovery, too. But that didn’t mean I had to like it.
“And Stoll?” Sam passed me the puck. I didn’t know what to do with it, so just dribbled.
“Who is he?” I asked. Since Sam knew about the extent of my memory loss, I didn’t feel too embarrassed about asking him to fill in the blanks.
He looked a little confused at my question at first. “Warren Stoll’s the athletic director. Real chummy with Haynes and the rest of the hockey department.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Having an AD on one’s side could come in handy. Especially when it came to budgeting. From what I knew, our team was good, but there were plenty of programs at Mendell that were better. For one, the basketball team were state champions for five years in a row. Lincoln wouldn’t stop comparing our record to theirs during warm-ups.
Sam chuckled. “Could be depending on who you ask. He said you were out for the season?”
“Yeah, Whitfield,” I said simply.
“Whitfield.” Sam laughed again. This time it didn’t sound humorous. “God, that’s rich. Perfect, really.”
“What?”
“Look.” He moved closer as a few of our teammates blazed by doing a sprinting drill. “This season’s big for us. For you, too. Our team isn’t full of rookies anymore. I know you can handle being out here. Coach knows that too. But… no matter how hard you work ice time is probably out of the question. Haynes might have you thinking you can get it if you work hard enough. If I were you, I wouldn’t get my hopes up. I’d start thinking of other options for the sake of my career.”
I frowned. “Why do you say that?”
Sam sighed and stretched his neck. He looked tired. He always looked tired, but something about the weight in his eyes seemed uniquely heavy. “I keep forgetting about you forgetting. Just…sometimes, the people in charge look for ways to make a quick buck. And we pay for it. You and me, we were going to change that until you got your head cracked open.”
I winced at the phrasing.
“Sorry. Bad choice of words.”
“It’s fine.” I didn’t like to talk about that night. Didn’t like to linger because it was over and done. In the past, where it belonged.
