My jaw hardens with frustration. I should be able to make that fucking shot in my sleep. I’m the damn captain for fuck’s sake.
“I don’t need a break. Line up for the shot.”I’m not leaving here untilImake that shot my bitch.
Luka’s head tilts to the side before he mumbles,“Whatever you say, cap.”
I bristle at his tone and the use of the nicknamecap, because I may technically be his captain, but that’s not our dynamic. I’ve never pulled the power card on him, and he damn well knows it.
I have too much respect for him, as a friend and as an equal on the ice, to pull that hierarchy bullshit with him.
I pull my helmet back down over my head and circle out toward the middle of the rink. I watch as Luka rounds behind the net and comes skating toward me at full speed. I pump my legs forward, ready to intercept him.
We battle for the puck; it definitely takes more out of me than I would like to admit to finally get the puck from him, and when I do, I break away for the goal. I work to slow my breathing, my eyes laser-focused on the net ahead.
I pivot to the right, digging my skates into the ice to come to a stop before I swing my stick back, aiming for the top left corner of the net. Knowing that the spin I put on the puck will drop it down right before Nash can stop it.
I hold my breath as the puck sails through the air. The spin is beautiful, the speed on it isn’t my best but isn’t my worst either. Nash reaches for it right before it drops, missing it completely.
“Fuck yeah!”I say right before I feel a hard slap on the top of my right shoulder pad.
“Nash didn’t stand a chance on that one,”Aiden, a junior and center like me, says as he comes up beside me.
“Nice one, cap,”Beau, our right winger andinterimgoalie, adds.
Internally, I bristle at the compliment because, by my standards, that shot was subpar at best. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m fucking relieved that it just went in at this point butfuck.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
I haven’t known what’s fucking wrong with me for months now.
The one thing that I could count on was that when I laced up these skates and stepped out onto this ice, I would feel remnants of my old self.
And now it feels like even that is slipping away.
“We need to do better.Ineed to do better if we have any chance of beating Minnesota in the finals,”I say.
Aiden looks at me questioningly.“I know we have some work to do, Cap, but you’re making it sound like we’re going to get massacred.”
“We fucking will if we don’t get our shit together. We’re too unfocused and sloppy,”I chastise.
“Woah, woah, woah.Now wait a minute. We’re at the top of our division league. We got this shit in the bag,”Beau stupidly says.
“Don’t ever say that again,”I command as I grab him by the collar and pull him toward me. He raises his hands in the air in surrender as I continue.“Nothing is fucking guaranteed. Thisisn’t the time to get lazy and complacent.”I shove him away from me without any resistance from him.
I feel out of control.
Like I’m spiraling and there isn’t a damn thing I can do to stop it. My eyes slam shut as I work to control my heartbeat, reciting the damn phrase a therapist my parents forced me to see gave me.
I accept this feeling, for it is only temporary.
And I wait.
I wait for some magic wand to appear because I said some abracadabra bullshit.
I’m supposed to feel better, more in control, but all it does is make me feel like I should be in the looney bin. It’s supposed to help me take control of my inner critic, the therapist’s words, not mine, and release all the toxic mumbo jumbo.Blah, blah, blah. Bullshit.
It doesn’t work. Nothing happens. I don’t suddenly have this well of inner peace or deeper understanding, and it certainly doesn’t take away this black hole that seems to be swallowing me whole.
All I know is I can’t lose my shit in front of them. They need me to lead, not bark orders like a fucking asshole or have a mental breakdown right here in the middle of practice.
