Page 11 of Securing the Pucking Rebound

I watch as everyone nods at whatever Coach is saying, and the second he’s done, Fletch pushes to his feet and begins his little pre-game talk. He commands everyone’s attention—just as he should. He’s a fucking outstanding captain, and I have no doubt he’s going to lead us to a Stanley Cup victory soon. We got so fucking close last year. It was literally in touching distance. But it wasn’t to be. As much as I’m going to fucking hate watching from the sidelines, I’m desperate for them to do it again this season. They deserve it. Every single one of them.

A loud, booming cheer startles me, dragging me from my thoughts a beat before everyone jumps up and they begin filing out of the room. Each of them is fired up, and the sight of it has my heart sinking even lower. I fucking live for this, and right now, it’s like I don’t recognize myself without it.

“Darcy said your rehab is going well,” Coach says when we’re the last two left in the room.

I grunt in response. Darcy might see the progress, and deep down, I do feel it, but it’s not fucking fast enough.

Coach lifts his eyebrows, demanding actual words.

“Yeah, I can almost ride a bike again,” I deadpan.

“I know it’s frustrating. But your body will thank you for taking it slow in the years that come.”

Frustrating? That’s the fucking understatement of the century.

“You don’t need me to tell you what happens to athletes who rush their recovery. Trust the process, and you’ll come back stronger than ever.”

I force myself to smile. It feels alien. I can’t remember the last time I gave anyone a real one. I’m not even sure I’m capable of one right now.

“You’ll be back out there before you know it,” Coach promises, squeezing my shoulder before he turns to the door and disappears.

I want to say his words give me a little hope, but I’d be lying.

Sure, Coach has some power around here when it comes to the players on his team, but if those above him decide I no longer have a place here, there isn’t going to be anything Coach can do about it.

Lowering my ass to the bench, I let my eyes scan everyone’s cubbies before focusing on the Vipers logo printed on the middle of the floor.

This place is my home. Even more so than my actual apartment. I can’t imagine a time when it’s not a part of my life.

I stretch my leg out and climb to my feet before I allow myself to drown in my wallowing.

I might not be able to play, but I can support my brothers. And that is exactly what I do.

As I pull the dressing room door open, Handsy is announced as our starting tendy. I force myself to put one foot in front of the other, holding my breath, waiting for what I know comes next.

“Tonight’s starting defensive pair. Number seventy-seven, Everett Donnelly, and number ninety-six, Hayden Monroe.”

Pain sears through me.

That should be my name and number being announced alongside Rett.

I press my hand against my chest in the hope it eases the pressure, but as I’ve discovered during every single game since Cooper fucking Nash fucked up my knee, nothing fucking helps.

I’m proud of Monroe. Since his very first day as a Viper, he’s proved that the organization was smart to sign him right out of college. I wasn’t surprised when Coach announced that he would be playing his first year on the second line. But to have him up there in my place now? Well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t just a little bit bitter.

I know he’s not there because Coach has deemed him better than me. It’s nothing like that.

Still hurts, though.

By the time I get to the end of the tunnel, everyone is ready to get this game started.

My heart thumps in my chest as I scan the excited crowd.

I find the girls at Casey’s favorite spot, right behind the goal, jumping up and down and screaming for their boys. Seeing as it’s a school night, Sutton is missing. So is Hailee; she’s running around this arena bossing people around, no doubt.

I can’t help but wonder what it must feel like to have people that excited to see me step onto the ice. Sure, when I was younger, I had people in the stands, but it hasn’t happened for a long time now. And even back then, they were there because they had to be, not because they wanted me to be.

My stomach knots tightly as I think about the missed calls, the unheard voicemails, and the unread messages sitting on my cell.