Page 23 of Home of the Brave

He was weird. Always had been, but this was a new level.

"What's wrong with you?”

“Nothing.” He turned and faced the ice as if he hadn’t just creeped me out.

“Did you hear about some of the mistakes yesterday?” Sanderson called to me from next to Schultz.

“Shut up,” Twiles, one of his Nebraska teammates, groaned.

I smirked, “No, what happened?”

“Twiles here got his protein shake mixed up.” He cracked a smile. “Drank a cake mix instead."

I groaned. “Sick. How long did it take you to notice?”

He shook his head. “One sip was more than enough.”

I chuckled. “So the prank wars have already started?”

“Yeah, Reeves on East already got hit by his own teammates. Got him on the vegan meal plan,” Kitcher, from the Dallas team, added with a smile. “He did not like that.”

“Those are tame,” Schultz joined back in. “They’ll get more interesting the longer we’re here.”

“Great,” I groaned. I’d been the victim of my share of pranks over the years of playing, and I took extra precautions at tournaments like these. There was a fine line between friendly fire and destroyed equipment.

Another bonus of the mid-tier level fame that came with being a professional hockey player was being able to get reservations at restaurants that would otherwise be inaccessible.

“Who made this happen?” Luke asked as we walked through the back entrance of a very exclusive steakhouse.

“Lane had his assistant call,” Hartman teased.

He was one of the very, very few athletes without anyone but an agent. Despite his being Utah’s captain, the face of several companies’ campaigns, and one of the busiest guys on the team, he refused to hire someone to answer his emails or make phone calls on his behalf.

It was weird, but then again, so was he.

His wife did help keep him organized, but they both denied her involvement as well.

I wasn’t sure how he did it. I barely had a schedule to keep, but even I had an assistant. She was remote and mostly handled my social media platforms and emails, but I wasn’t sure what I’d do without her. She kept me from getting overwhelmed and allowed me to focus on training and playing.

Hartman was either a superhuman or didn’t sleep. Those were the only options I could think of after years of knowing him.

Maybe he was a vampire.

“When do Madi and Kendall get here?” Amelia asked as she and Abrams took the seats next to me.

“Not until this weekend. They watch enough practices at home,” Schultz explained, while glancing over the menu.

“Are any of your wives or girlfriends coming?” I asked the group.

Most nodded, and a few answered as two servers entered the private room to take our drink orders.

It was times like this when I wished I had someone to fly in. I could get through the regular season without noticing how lonely my life was, but the Olympics and this tournament were different. I wanted to share these experiences with someone.

But not just anyone.

That was the real issue. If I simply wanted company, there’d be no shortage of willing women.

Unfortunately, I was surrounded by the Pride, the single greatest group of wives and girlfriends in all of sports.