Page 9 of Rookie Attraction

“Baran, Kirkland, good to see you. You guys ready for training?”

“Yes sir,” Sel and I say in unison.

“I understand you two have met before,” Range comments as he crosses his arms. “At Sutton University. Is that correct?”

Sel nods. “That’s right.”

“Summer hockey camp,” I add.

“Good.” Range nods at me and then Sel. “Then you’re both familiar with how the other plays. That’ll make this transition a hell of a lot easier given our tight timeframe.”

I hope so. I’m nervous enough as it is.

“We only have a week before the season starts and our defensive lineup needs to click, fast. It’s going to mean long days and no letting up.”

“I’m ready,” I state.

“I’m here to work,” Sel replies.

“That’s what I want to hear, and that’s what our assistant head coach, Marley Laflore, wants to hear.” Range turns his attention to the rest of the room and holds up one hand. “Hey guys, listen up.”

The chatter in the room quiets.

“As we’re weeks into training with one more to go, it’s time for promo photos. Heads up that our public relations team will be here today to get this done. A reminder to do as you’re told and play nice.”

Sel visibly flinches and some of the guys make disgruntled noises.

“I know PR isn’t your favorite thing.” Range looks around and points to our captain. “Well, for everyone except Berg of course.”

Jeers, laughter, and whistles ring out after Coach’s sarcastic comment. Berg’s from Sweden, and with his talent on the ice and his model-pretty face, he’s in demand by both the media and corporate sponsors. It’s no wonder he’s a pro at PR. The blond-haired, blue-eyed captain is always snapped with a gorgeous entourage.

“See you on the ice in fifteen!” Range adds, and with a final nod he heads for the door.

Berg steps up to me and Sel with what I assume is a genuine smile.

“Welcome to the Rush family.”

I wait to see if he shakes Sel’s hand first. When he does, I relax and offer mine.

“Thanks.” Sel nods. “Looking forward to it.”

Sel’s voice is so subdued that I hardly recognize it, or him. When I glance at his profile, his jaw’s clenched tight. If I were in his skates, I’d be the same. Fuck, I’m nervous too, but I’m not under the same scrutiny he is. Whatever happened in Chicago, it must’ve been horrible, and clearly Sel’s still dealing with the fallout.

One by one, the rest of the players gather around us and introduces themselves. First up are the rest of the defensemen—Alden Brady, Jude St. Clare, Boris Kuznetsov, and Killian Tullmore. I’m especially stoked at meeting Kuznetsov. His father was a kick-ass defenseman who played in Russia. I try to contain my freakout, but my cool lasts about three seconds…

“Your last season was killer. Absolutely killer!” I blurt out. “And that game against Detroit in March? Almost no one got past you.”

“We did alright, but there’s always room for improvement,” Kuznetsov admits with a wry grin.

“Of course, Detroit scored,” I continue. “But only once, and that was on a power play, so⁠—”

Brady and St. Clare stare at me like I’ve lost my mind, and without a word head back to their respective stalls. Okay, so maybe it’s a tougher crowd than I thought. And maybe I need to shut it before I make things worse.

“Don’t mind them,” Kuznetsov insists. “With Jadisky and Hudor gone, we’re feeling the gap in our defensive lineup and the pressure’s ramped up. They’ve been out of sorts, but that’ll ease off eventually.”

“Got it.”

“I’m hyped to play with you, Baran. New blood is exactly what we need.”