“Hey,” I say, skating up to him before I help him up. “That was a great first try.”
“I lost it,” he grumbles.
“That’s okay,” I tell him.
His lip juts out in a pout. “And then I fell.”
“That’s okay too,” I say.
I can’t help it then—something about his words and the look on his face reminding me of the conversation I had with Abby a few nights ago.
This is just a bump in the road.
I pat Kyle’s shoulder. “Even if you stumble a little, it doesn’t mean you can’t get back up again.”
Just repeating her words has a smile touching my lips, making me feel just as good to say it now as it had to hear it then. I guess it sort of pays off to be roommates with a future shrink.
His mouth curves into a toothy grin, giving me a nod. “Okay. Yeah, sure.”
“Why don’t you go grab the puck, and we’ll try again.”
His nod is more emphatic now, and I watch as he darts off across the rink after the lost puck.
“Good job, Coach,” Ian says, sidling up to me and bumping me with his shoulder. “I think he likes you.”
“He likesyou,” I say. “I’m just an extra.”
“Shut up,” Ian tuts. “You’re really good at this, you know.”
“Sure I am.”
“You are,” he insists. “Not just with Kyle. With all of us.”
“If you’re trying to butter me up,” I say, “it’s working.”
He shoves me. “Feeling better about the loss?”
I scowl, making a noncommittal gesture.
“It wasn’tyourfault we lost,” Ian says.
My lips turn down in a frown. “Oh, really? Any other disabled players on the team I hadn’t heard about?”
“You’re not disabled,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “You still scored a goal even with your bad arm at the Dallas game.”
“Wasn’t enough,” I mutter.
“You don’t have to take the brunt ofeveryloss,” Ian tells me. “You have a bad habit of doing that, did you know? Even before this whole mess with your arm.”
“I…” I frown. I mean, sure, I hate it when we lose just as much as the next guy, but I wouldn’t say I take thebruntof it. “That’s not true.”
“Sure it is. It’s why you’re always working so hard. I mean, come on, you’re the only player on the team that spends as much time watching other teams’ footage. I can guarantee that. You’re sort of the heart of the entire team.”
“You just got back,” I mutter, my face flushing. “How would you know?”
“Because I know you,” he says. “And I know how much you love this game.” He pats my shoulder. “I also know how much it’s killing you to work around this whole business with your arm. But you can’t sit at home wallowing all the time. Life goes on, you know?”
I feel a flare of irritation well up. “That’s easy for you to say. You get to retire on your own terms. I might be forced the fuck out.”
