The treadmills are empty—the perfect way to pound out this annoyance. Keeping up with regular physical therapy during the offseason has helped me make leaps and bounds in my recovery.
My knee feels like it’s brand-new. Knowing it can handle the strenuous pace I set, I start the treadmill and take off on the grueling workout.
Guys start coming in, shooting the shit with each other. A few give me a wave, while others head toward their preferred workout station.
I hate that I still don’t feel like a part of the team. Sure, I have the few guys that I hang out with every now and then, but it feels different.
A bridge I’m not quite sure how to cross.
Graham enters the weight room, heading straight toward me. At least that’s something that’s changed. It doesn’t feel outright hostile with him now.
More like simmering annoyance.
He gives me a nod as he gets onto the treadmill next to me. Eyeing my own speed, he sets his one notch above mine and takes off.
Maybe I was wrong on that whole hostile feeling. I kick my own speed up one above his.
Two can play at that game.
Glancing over at him, I see a smirk playing on the corner of his mouth. Something I shouldn’t be noticing. Because…why am I finding it sexy?
I push those thoughts from my head as Graham jabs his finger at the screen. He punches his treadmill up as high as it can go. I follow.
The burn in my legs feels good as I push myself harder than I have in months. The hard beat of my feet reverberates through my entire body, pushing me even harder. Fuck, does it ever feel good.
Like I can do what I was supposed to.
Play hockey and not just sit on the bench.
Maybe having Graham around is a good thing. I shudder at the thought. Because that is not something I would have thought at any point.
“Think you can keep it up, old man?” Graham taunts me from his spot.
“See if you can.” I send a wink his way, and I don’t miss the way he stumbles over his feet for the briefest of seconds.
I pump my arms, pushing myself even harder to keep up with him. I’ve got almost seven years on him. I might not be the fastest guy anymore after years of playing, but if I can push him to keep up, why wouldn’t I?
Until a voice startles me out of my thoughts.
“Jesus. Can you two stop making everything into a competition? I don’t need you idiots hurting yourselves before the season even starts.” Marcus groans. “You’re worse than the girls.”
Changing the pace to a brisk walk, I slow down as Graham does the same thing beside me.
“Gotta make sure our top center is in shape,” Graham chirps.
“More like dead on the ice tonight if you two keep this up,” Marcus fires back.
“I know exactly how hard to push myself.”
Marcus gives me a weary look. “This feels more like a pissing match to me.”
“Nah.” I wave him off. “Just trying to work out some stress. That’s all.”
“Did you hear about your condo?” Marcus asks, dropping onto the weight machine in front of us.
“Yeah. Not good news.”
“What’s not good news?” Graham asks, inserting himself into the conversation. Sweat drips down from his face. He lifts his shirt to wipe it off, and I do my best to ignore the brief flash of his abs I get.
