Page 8 of Rookie Attraction

Every player in the room looks my way, and I’m so awed by seeing these guys in person, up close, that I can’t say anything else. I’m sure my face is redder than my auburn hair, but I’m too keyed up to worry about it.

“I’m Finn Baran.”

Evan Berg, New York’s captain and a giant at six-five, stands up first.

“The rookie from Vermont.”

“That’s me.” I nod. “Well, I played college hockey in Vermont. I grew up in Nebraska and⁠—”

“Finn?”

I whirl around at the familiar voice and find myself face to face with my former mentor.

What the hell? Selwin?

It’s been two months since university camp, and I internally cringe every time I think about how shitty I played and how unimpressed Sel seemed with my performance. Then again, I had a lot on my mind.

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one…

Sel publicly came out a couple of weeks ago, and the news that he’s bisexual is still the talk of sports and entertainment media. A lot of my friends are queer, and seeing rep at the pro level is inspiring. There’s no question I have mad respect for Sel, not just as a player, but as a person. It’s too bad I’m so tongue-tied around him, and what’s worse is that I have no clue as to why.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I blurt out.

I guess my tongue’s working fine today.

Sel smirks. “I’m here for training camp. Well, what’s left of it. I just signed my contract. This is my first day.”

“Are you shitting me?”

Everyone starts laughing.

“No.”

Sel offers a crooked smile, but it’s far from the beaming one I remember from this summer. If I’m being totally honest, he looks like crap. His big brown eyes are guarded and there are dark hollows underneath them. It seems like he’s lost weight, his beard is scraggly, and the mullet is gone, his hair shorter on the sides but still messy on top. The man in front of me is so unlike the exuberant guy I met months ago that it startles me.

“But I don’t get it,” I add. “You love Chicago.”

“I did,” he replies quietly.

He doesn’t say anything else. And when I watch the way he’s worrying his lower lip, it hits me. His coming out… fuck, I guess the team didn’t take the news well. Christ, it had to be bad given he’s played there for his entire career and now suddenly he’s here. So much for hockey evolving. I feel awful, and for once I don’t know what to say.

“And you’re the rookie?” he continues.

“Yeah. I got an invite to try out, so here I am. What are the odds I’d end up playing with you?”

Sel shakes his head, the dark brown waves of his hair hitting his eyebrows.

“I don’t know, but it sure is nice to see a familiar face. A friendly one.”

“For me too.”

I glance around and notice that the rest of the guys are coming our way to greet us. Thankfully, I don’t sense any hostility, but you never know. No one better say anything derogatory to Sel, but I’m preparing for it just in case. I might be a good-natured guy, but if someone hurts my friends, watch out. Not that Sel and I are friends, but he seems like a nice guy and my protective side is never far from the surface.

I want to ask Sel more questions about what happened in Chicago, but now’s not the time. Part of me is freaking out that we’re playing on the same team, and I’ve got to text Silas asap. Did he know Sel was transferring to New York? Damien and Silas are married now, and surely if Damien knew about his friend’s move, Si did too.

If so, why didn’t they tell me?

Fortunately, I don’t have time to think about it, because the coaching staff steps into the room. Jordan Range is a former forward with LA who’s been coaching the Rush for the past year and was an assistant coach with Vancouver the year before that. He’s not unlike Damien in that he’s in his thirties, demanding, and super intense about hockey. The fact that he’s only a few years out of the roster himself means he knows a lot of guys in the league, not just who they are but how they play. Range has his Rush jacket on, and if it weren’t for the words “Head Coach” stitched on it—and his buzzed hair—you’d assume he was one of us.