But I shake the thought away.
I can’t exactly stand around drinking coffee with them.
So instead, I keep skating slow circles at the far end of the rink, pretending I don’t notice.
More players filter in after that.
Zane Blake steps onto the ice next.
He skates a few warm-up laps, then glances my way.
For a moment his gaze lingers.
Probably just sizing me up again.
More players arrive, the noise level slowly rising as sticks hit the boards and conversations start bouncing across the ice.
Practice is about to begin.
And despite the nerves humming under my skin, I can’t stop the small smile forming inside my helmet.
ZANE
When I step onto the ice, the new guy is already there.
He’s skating slow laps in the neutral zone like he’s been here for a while.
I glance at the clock.
6:51.
Practice doesn’t start until seven.
I watch him as I glide toward the bench.
Part of me wonders if he’s trying to make the rest of us lookbad. Show up early, skate like he owns the place, set the tone. I’m not sure if I’m impressed or annoyed.
Maybe it’s both.
Mercer skates past me.
“You see the rookie?” he mutters.
“Hard to miss.”
“He’s trying too hard.”
The rest of the team filters onto the ice and Coach calls us in.
Warm ups start.
The drills are fast today.
Quick transitions and full-speed rushes down the ice. Calloway’s clearly pushing the pace, probably testing how the new guy holds up under pressure.
At first Shaw does well.
Really well.
