“Do you still have an agent?”Mr.—Coach—Larue asks.I feel like I can call him coach again if he still thinks of me as a player.“I can send them the tryout offer.No guarantees.And if we do take you on, it’ll definitely be like starting again.We can’t offer you the three-point-seven million a year you were making in Vegas.Our salary cap is tight.Not gonna lie about that.”
“If you decide to keep me, I would take entry-level pay,” I blurt out, and Grady chuckles.
Coach smiles.“We can probably do better than that when the time comes.”
He saidwhen.He’s confident.My heart races.Am I confident?Can I do this?Yes.I can.I want this.
“His agent is Leo Abbott,” Grady says for me because I forgot to answer.
“I’ll send the paperwork to Abbott.And you think it over, Theo,” Larue says.
“Thanks, Coach.”
He raises a scarred eyebrow.“Coach?So I guess that’s a good sign.We got rid of the mister garbage already.”
I smile.“I’d love another shot.”
“Okay then, let’s give you one.”He extends his hand.I yank off the glove I’m wearing and shake it.“This isn’t a handout.I saw today you still got it, kid, but you have to keep showing me.Every single day.”
“Yes, sir.”I nod.
“See you tomorrow.Practice is at eleven.”He turns and walks back down the tunnel.
I stare after him.God, what a fucking day.I look up at Grady, emotions swamping me, and take a shaky breath.“I don’t know what I did to deserve you as a cousin and a friend, but thank you.”
“Shut up.”Grady shoves me, grinning like the goofball he is.“You’re a good guy, Theo.Everyone knows it.Why don’t you?”
Good question, I think.I’ve been wondering that for a while.“Let’s change.I have a meeting in forty-five minutes.”
“A meeting?”Grady repeats, his thick red eyebrows lift in confusion.
“AA,” I explain as I grab my bag off the bench and we penguin march on our skates through the tunnel.
“Are you… like thinking about drinking again?”Grady asks as we get to the hallway where the training rooms and locker room are located.His expression gets tight with worry.
“I mean… I think about it, but I don’t want to do it.”It’s impossible to make other people understand how the urge to drink feels more like a reflex than a conscious decision, which is part of the reason I’ve kept to myself.I also feel like people will look at me like I’m a ticking time bomb because, as Grady pointed out, I’ve stopped drinking before and gone back to it.“The meetings help me stay focused.”
He nods, but I don’t know if he actually understands.That’s fine, though.The worry leaves his face, which is the most important thing.I don’t need to stress him out.He tried really hard last season to get me sober, and I think my accident makes him feel like a failure.He leans on his stick.“Also, I wanted to tell you, Landon and I really appreciate the letter.I know it was part of your steps in AA, but still.They meant a lot, but we both think you need to cut yourself some slack.”
“I’m fine.I promise,” I say.I wrote letters to basically every single member of my family as part of Twelve Steps in AA—the making amends part.
Grand shakes his head.“Dude, you really didn’t out us.I mean, we were ready for people to know, and if someone had asked us about it, we would have honestly told them.”
“Yeah, but?—”
“No.No buts.”Grady shakes his head.“And come change in the locker room.”
“Not until the tryout contract is signed.I don’t want to jinx it.”I had insisted on changing into my gear in the restroom across from the locker room because I wasn’t a player, and using an official NHL team’s locker room felt off.Even with Coach’s offer, I wasn’t technically trying out until the contract was signed, sealed, and delivered, so I head into the restroom.Yeah, I am that superstitious.
I drop my bag by the sinks and start to peel out of my gear.I’m not in full gear with pads and everything because this wasn’t a game or even a real practice.I pull off the old practice jersey I’m wearing and then jump up on the counter between the two sinks to untie my skates.
That’s when I hear a toilet flush, and before I can even move, or jump off the counter and throw my jersey back on so I’m not half naked, there’s a beautiful woman standing there.She’s got the biggest, most beautiful blue eyes I have ever seen, but they’re red-rimmed.The pale skin on her high cheekbones is flushed—splotchy.Her dark hair isn’t very long, and it’s kind of messy and not in that purposeful way.She’s beautiful, even though she looks tragic.
“Are you okay?”I ask stupidly because she’s clearly not.
“Sorry.I thought players changed in the locker room,” she says as her watery eyes sweep up and down my body.I realize I probably look ridiculous standing here shirtless in hockey pants with only one skate on.I hop back up onto the counter and start untying my other one.
“They do.I’m…” not a player?Except maybe I am.Again.“I’m a long story.And you’ve been crying.”
