A son to think about.
“Hey, Bode.” Marcus claps me on the shoulder as I drop my bag down onto the bench seat. “How are things going?”
“You mean since the last time I texted you guys?”
“You do text a lot,” Dax says, coming up behind me.
“A lot can change in a few days,” Marcus says.
I shake my head. “Hell, even a few hours.”
Pulling a few things out, I see my jersey hanging in my locker. The number nineteen is there in big white print. The Knights logo sits just below the collar. I finger the thick fabric of my name on the back.
Somehow, starting this season feels different. I’m excited, don’t get me wrong. I’m years into this career, and for the first time, it feels like I’m playing for something bigger than myself.
I don’t want to bethat guyanymore. The one that shows up to a bar looking for women. I feel so far removed from that guy, it’s not even funny.
“Gentlemen.” Coach Andrews’s voice calls everyone to attention. “Are you ready for a new season?”
Shouts and cheers ring out in the locker room.
“Good, good. I’ve got big plans for this team. We had a deep playoff run last year, and I want to continue that success. Continue moving this team forward. The Knights have put together a talented team, and I’m excited to see where we go as one.”
There’s an electricity pulsing through the group of guys in the locker room. I’m buzzing again. I’ve never been so antsy for a season to start. Before, I loved the offseason, spending my time with different women and basking in the attention.
The only attention I want now is from the one person who seems to be just fine with no attention at all.
Stevie.
It seems no matter what I do, our schedules never sync up. The woman staying in my house is a stranger to me. I might know what she does, but that’s about it.
One thing I do know is that she is stunning.
Shaking the stupor this woman continuously pulls me into, I change into my gear and grab my stick to hit the ice.
Taking a deep breath, I relish the smell of the ice. The cold seeps into me and reminds me that I’m home.
This is where I excel. Playing hockey. No matter what else is going on in my life, I can push all of that out of my head for a few hours and focus on my game.
That’s what the team deserves. I know Caleb is in good hands with Gran. I think she mentioned taking him on a walk to the park.
“We’re going to do line drills,” Coach Andrews bellows. Everyone groans. “No complaining. We’re going to build the endurance in your legs. My goal is to make it to the finals this season. I don’t want us losing because your conditioning isn’t up to the challenge.”
All the guys gather on the line by the goal. When the whistle blows, we skate to the blue line, then back. Center line and back. We do it for every line on the ice.
I fucking hate these drills. They were designed by a sadist to make us hate hockey. By the time Coach blows the whistle, dismissing us to work with our line coaches, my legs are screaming at me.
My thighs are on fire as I skate to the bench to grab a few swigs of water.
Our coach starts running us through some different drills with the new guys on the team. A few we traded for I recognize from playing, but I’m not familiar with any of the rookies.
Marcus is already chatting with them. Knowing him, he studied up on all of them since he’s our captain. It would be something he would do.
Before I know it, Coach Andrews is calling us all back to center ice.
“For this last part of practice, we’re going to be doing something a little different.”
The guys are huffing and puffing. Our chests are heaving after doing that last round of drills.
