I chuckled. The fans had gotten more creative this past season, tossing more colorful and elaborately decorated eggs. Sometimes the maintenance staff had even discovered items hidden inside the eggs. Often it was a name and a phone number, but sometimes it was candy or even a mini canvas painted with my likeness or one of my teammates.
We ate that shit up, though we had to pretend as if we were unaffected since management hated it. Or at least, they claimed to. But if it kept the fans engaged and the seats filled, management couldn’t be too pissed about it.
After that, we stopped chatting so much and focused on our workout. My muscles were screaming at me by the time we finished, but it was Bryn’s words that continued to haunt me. Pushing me harder with every rep. Every exercise.
I already had my love story.
I could understand why she might believe that—her husband had died. But she held on to this deep-seated conviction that she would never be happy in love again. And the idea that she’d convinced herself it was true made me incredibly sad.
“Ice bath then sauna?” Gabe suggested.
“Sounds good,” I said, even though we both knew it would hurt like a bitch.
When we reached the treatment room, we stripped down to our compression shorts.
“Audiobook?” he asked.
I held up my phone, gritting my teeth at the missed call notification. Someone had left a message from an unknown number, and I had a good feeling I knew exactly who it was.
“You good?” Gabe was watching me with a concerned expression, and it was then I realized how hard I was squeezing my phone.
I loosened my grip and tried to release my anger as well.He’s not worth it.
“I’ve gotThe Order of Timecued up,” I said.
I tapped play, and the sound of Benedict Cumberbatch’s rich, velvety voice filled the room. As he explored the nature of time, Gabe and I climbed into our respective ice baths. I eased into the cold water, feeling the bite of the chill with every inch of my body that was submerged. I took a long, deep breath.
Most people’s first instinct when climbing into an ice bath was to stop breathing, but that was the opposite of what you needed to do. Slow, controlled, deep breaths were key.
“Ten minutes?”
“Fifteen,” I said, focusing on my breathing. I’d already set a sleep timer on the audiobook, but I glanced at the digital clock on the wall, noting the time. And then I let go.
I thought about the upcoming season. About Bryn. About Derek.
For over a decade, Derek and I had shared the dream of hoisting the Cup over our heads. First as college students, hoping to make it to the NHL. Then as pro athletes, following each other’s careers from opposite sides of the country. And finally—for a short time—as teammates once more.
But now, he’d never see that dream materialize. It was up to me to make it happen—for both of us. And I knew many of my teammates felt the same way. That additional pressure to make every game matter—for Derek.
We were a tight team, and his death had been sudden, unexpected, and absolutely devastating—to me, Bryn, the team, to everyone who’d known him.
I could remember that morning. We’d played my old team, New York, the night before, and we’d won in overtime. I’d texted Derek to see if he was coming down to breakfast. It wasn’t unusual for him to skip, so I hadn’t thought much of it at the time. But after he’d missed breakfast, I’d pounded on his door to get him to wake the fuck up because he was going to be late for the bus. Then the texts started from Bryn, asking if I’d seen Derek. And then Coach’s ashen face delivering the news that Derek was gone.
My best friend had died in the night, alone in a fucking hotel room. And none of us had had a clue until it was too late.
Gabe shook my shoulder, and I realized then that he’d climbed out of his tub and was standing before me. “Time’s up.” He tapped the edge of my tub, and I noted he already had a towel wrapped around his waist.
The room was silent. I didn’t know how long it had been since the audiobook had shut off. I pushed myself upright. Water sloshed against the edges of the tub, my body confused by the sudden change in temperature. My skin went from freezing cold to burning hot in mere seconds. I breathed through it, knowing the worst of it would pass soon. I just had to make it through.
It felt like that had been my mantra the past year and a half.Just make it through.
Hockey had helped. My teammates. Bryn.
But I didn’t want to just make it through. Not anymore.
Gabe handed me a towel. “Where’s your head at?” he asked as I wrapped it around my waist.
Where it always was. When I wasn’t focused on hockey, my thoughts were on Bryn. It was a problem, especially lately.
