One bad practice, you can shake. Two in a row? That starts to define you. And the last thing I can afford is to be defined by failure.
Our first game is coming up, and every day I skate like an asshole or fall behind in a drill, my teammates get one step closer to giving up on me altogether.
Everyone has bad stretches. But this is the first time I’m dealing with one alone. Usually Oliver was the one who pulled me out of it. Ran drills with me after practice until we couldn’t lift our arms to hold a stick. He did it for me, I did it for him. Neither of us ever asked. We just showed up.
Now it’s just me.
The realization claws at my chest, sharp enough it could draw blood.
Coach’s whistle cuts through the noise. “Get out of here. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He dismisses the team, but before I can skate off, he calls, “Lane, get over here.”
I skate over, meeting his eyes like I was taught. “Yes, Coach.”
He crosses his arms and takes a slow breath, letting it out before he speaks. “Is everything okay? You’re playing like a shitty freshman. Not a senior with a shot at the NHL.”
I drop my head, searching for something to say, but I come up empty. “I don’t know what it is. I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Are you hurt? I’d rather you tell me so we can get you treated and back on track.”
“I’m not hurt,” I cut in. “Swear.” I lift a hand like that’s enough to prove it.
His brows pull together, like he’s trying to read something I’m not saying.
“Look, I’ll get it together. I’m just… trying to figure it out.”
He gives me a small smile. It should settle the nerves buzzing under my skin, but it doesn’t. It just reminds me how much he put on the line for me to bring me here. To give me this shot.
And it feels like I’m blowing it.
“I believe you.” He nods once. “This isn’t about practice. I need a favor. Cora has a research project she wants to do her senior year. It was supposed to be with the basketball team, but…”
But she’s not dating that guy anymore.
“But things have changed. It’ll require a little more time on the ice for you, but it shouldn’t interfere too much. It’d be a big help.”
Fuck. This is not a good idea.
“Plus, it seems like extra time on the ice wouldn’t hurt.” I wait for the laugh, or the joke, but it doesn’t come.
This girl is going to be the death of me.
“Sure, Coach. I’ll make it work.” I agree, hoping he'll drop it and let me put an end to this practice.
When he lets me make my way into the locker room, I let out a slow breath. Fuck, I'm in trouble. In more ways than one.
Mytableiscoveredwith textbooks because even though I’m here for hockey, I still have to graduate. That’s the rule. Or, that was the rule. It feels like it’s something I still need to follow, not just for my eligibility, but because I made a promise.
My phone buzzes.
Cora
i was really hoping you’d say no
I look down at the screen, unable to move.
Me
