I get flicked in the face and jolt back to Brynn’s concerned brown eyes watching me. I release a small sigh, trying not to let her realize how much my thoughts are spiralling. Maybe I need a therapist. I haven’t found one since coming to Vancouver.
I may also just need to hit people on ice.Maybe I can target Eloise without her realizing it.
“You know I’m going to needle you until you’re fine.”
“I hate you,” I mutter, and she smiles.
“Love you too, my dear. Anyway, the only thing you need to remember is to be nice to Eloise when she gets here. She’s obviously going to be your partner with Rosie off to Calgary.” She levels me with a stare and there goes the idea of crashing into her any chance I get. “We need to have a solid defensive duo in you two if we want to get to the playoffs.”
I nod, breaking her stare to look at my nails. They’re chipped and need to be redone.
“I can do that.”
Can I?
“I know you can,” she says proudly. “I’m making pasta. Sounds good?”
I nod.
I can. I can do that.
Right?
Three
Eloise
Anxiety bites at my heels; it’s eating its way through my stomach at the thought of walking into the new locker room. The locker room of one of my fiercest rivals for the last three years. The Vancouver Vortex—Winnie Polk and Taylor Matthews—have been a thorn in my side just about every time we played against each other.
I haven’t been the nicest player to play against; I know that. But it’s something I know I’m good at, being aggressive, fighting for the wins.
I can do that for this team, though. I know I can.
Brynn Bailey, Team Captain, a tall, beautiful woman with curly brown hair and freckled cheeks and thick eyelashes that I could get lost in, smiles at me. She stands beside a shorter, red-faced man with thick eyebrows and a thicker accent. “Eloise, welcome to Vancouver!” she says with a smile.
She holds her hand out to shake mine, her palm soft and her grip firm. “We’ve already met, but I’d like to introduce you to our fearless leader, Tommy Lawson.” She grins at the man who scowls beneath hismoustache.
“Pleasure to meet you, Coach,” I say, reaching out to shake his hand as well.
He grunts in response, leaving my hand out, and I wonder if I’ve somehow offended him before even starting to play for him. “Coach,” Brynn nudges, an elbow into his ribs, and he shakes my hand. He’s slow to move, eyeing me up and down.
“I’m interested in seeing you on the ice. Go get suited up- your practice jersey is in your cubby.” His voice is raspy, thick with an accent that I can only assume is from out east, and disappears. I watch him walk away and feel a sinking feeling in my gut; the anxiety is getting to me.
Brynn tuts beside me, nudging me. “Ignore him; that was his warm setting.”
I try to smother the need to smile awkwardly. “He has settings?” I ask, I catch her nodding from the corner of my eye.
“Yeah, warm, crusty, and sour,” she chuckles, clapping my back. “You’ll see the other two pretty quickly.”
I try to swallow the bile rising in my throat. “Fantastic.”
“Come on, the girls are excited to have you on the ice with them.” She doesn’t watch the way that I stutter in my steps, walking with her. She points out the training centre, the gym, the physiotherapists, the office for our nutritionists and the stairs leading up tothe social media team and owner’s offices before leading me down a long corridor to the locker room. I can hear the chatter getting louder the closer we get, and the knots in my stomach getting bigger and more tangled by the second.
Brynn gives me a big smile before opening the door, and the minor bracing I did in the few moments between her smile and the door did nothing to prepare me for it. It’s loud, raucous laughter from already gelled teammates, and the smell- while not aggressive - is definitely not peachy. It smells like hockey with an undercurrent of perfumes, each one layering in the air, creating something new.
It’s not home, but it’ll do.
The laughter falls to a hushed silence when people see me following Brynn in, and every tiny step makes me nervous that I’m doing something wrong. That I’m out of place.
