Page 12 of Puck Me Back to Life

That finally sounds vaguely familiar. “Oh.”

Dante points triumphantly. “See? You remember.”

“Barely.”

He sighs dramatically. “I hate you.”

Dante continues talking anyway, which is impressive considering I've contributed almost nothing to this conversation. My attention keeps drifting across the room towards Hayes. His stall sits a few rows away.

Most of his gear is already on. His skates are laced. His gloves rest beside him. The only thing missing is his helmet, which sits on the floor near his feet.

Another one of those radioactive energy drinks is in his hand. The second one today. Maybe third. At this point, I honestly don't know how his heart hasn't exploded.

What catches my attention, though, isn't the drink, but his leg bouncing relentlessly. The movement is subtle enough that most people probably wouldn't notice.

I do.

The nervous energy practically radiates off him. His shoulders are tense. His jaw is tight. Every few seconds he takes another sip from the can.

Suddenly the shower conversation makes a lot more sense.

Dante follows my gaze. “Hayes looks like he's about to throw up.”

“Probably.”

“You think he'll be okay?”

I don't answer immediately. The honest truth is that I don't know. Physically? Absolutely. The guy is one of the most talented players on this roster.

Mentally?

Different question.

Eventually Hayes stands. The room seems to grow quieter around him. Everybody knows what tonight means. Hayes grabs his helmet. The nervous bouncing finally stops. Game face. The transformation is immediate. Whatever storm is happening inside his head gets shoved behind a wall.

Professional athlete ready to perform. I respect that. Even if it worries me.

The tunnel leading toward the ice is packed with noise. Music shakes the walls. Fans scream somewhere beyond the entrance. The energy hits like a physical force. Players tap sticks against the floor. Coaches shout final instructions. Then it's time.

The Wizards explode onto the ice one by one. The crowd roars as twenty thousand people rise to their feet.

I skate through the entrance and soak it in. This is my favorite part. Always will be.

Then Hayes comes out, his eyes downcast on the ice. The arena changes instantly. A lot of people applaud. Mixed into it comes something else. Boos.

The sound echoes through the building. I glance toward Hayes. His expression doesn't change but I catch the tiny wince before he buries it.

Jesus. Two years later and they're still doing this.

Hayes pushes off and starts skating warmup laps. Like nothing happened. Like he didn't hear it. Maybe he's gotten used to it. The thought somehow feels worse.

The game starts fast. Opening-night adrenaline, I guess. Everybody has too much energy from the off season. Nobody wants to make mistakes.

For the first ten minutes, Hayes is unbelievable.

Flying across the ice.

Making plays.