And now Tyler Grant is out.
Grant was solid on the left wing. Not flashy, not the guy pulling highlight plays, but dependable. The kind of player you don’t fully appreciate until he’s suddenly gone.
Which leaves us with our new recruit.
Lee Shaw.
Mercer’s voice echoes in my head again.
Did you see his size?
I rub the back of my neck.
Mercer wasn’t wrong.
Skill is great.
But hockey is still hockey.
If Shaw can’t handle the hits, he won’t last two games out there.
And if he doesn’t last…
Our season might be over before it even really begins.
LEONORA
The evening before the first practice, I meet Tara to go through logistics.
She closes the door to the treatment room and leans back against the counter, arms folded.
“Alright,” she says. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly.”
The excitement from the tryout is still humming in my veins, but the seriousness in her voice makes me straighten a little.
“This isn’t just ‘I’ll help you and hope for the best,’” she continues. “There are rules. Practical ones. If you want this to last longer than a week.”
“Okay.”
“Arrival times. You come early. Earlier than the rest of the team. I’ll unlock the physio entrance for you.”
“There’s a physio entrance?”
“Side corridor,” she says. “Most players are never anywhere near it. You use that, come straight here, and change.”
She gestures to a door behind her.
“I’ve got a small treatment room that isn’t being used this season. Locker, bench, shower. It’ll be yours.”
She pauses, thinking.
“Travel might be trickier.”
“Away games?”
“You can avoid the bus and travel with me,” Tara says. “We’ll think of a reason. But hotel room assignments and locker rooms will need managing. We’ll cross that bridge if we get there. You’re only here until Tyler Grant recovers, so maybe you’ll get lucky.”
“Medical checks?” I ask carefully.
