Page 36 of Breakaway Hearts

“How?” Cormac asks.

“A captain never reveals his tricks,” I say, walking over to meet Jason as Colt and Mike snicker, clearly aware that I have no idea.

“Are you coming to burn those as a statement or joining us for practice?” My eyes follow Madison as she heads towards the English department and administrative offices. I didn’t expect her to stay and watch, but I’m self-aware enough to know I wish she wasn’t leaving.

“If you lose in the home opener as bad as you did on Friday, the Wolves will never live it down.”

“So this is temporary?” I’ll take what I can get, but his face is telling me he’s in.

“Let’s see how the week goes. You might not want me.”

“If you saw the game on Friday, you know we do.”

I bring Jason to Coach, who greets him like an old friend. He’s smiling like he doesn’t want to spook him, which I appreciate, but it’s weird. Hargraves looks like he doesn’t trust it either.

Coach isn’t mean. I’m pretty sure he’d take a bullet for every single one of us, but smiling isn’t something he does unless you’re his granddaughter or his wife.

Jason's still talking to our equipment manager when practice starts, with Carl doing infinitely better than he ever does during games, until Holden leads us into a standing ovation when Jason steps onto the ice.

“Wonder what the captain had to bribe him with.”

Pretty sure that’s Redding, but I ignore it like I used to when Tab would follow me around the house being annoying. At first it would piss her off and she’d try harder, but then she’d get bored and give up.

“Thank fuck, man,” Carl says as soon as he sees why we’re clapping. Probably the best thing he has going for him is that he knows exactly who he is and what he can (or can’t) do, so while he’s crushed every time we lose, he doesn’t take a minute of it personally. Absolutely no ego.

“Spring, you’re still our starter until Hargraves proves himself, and even backups have to practice,” Coach warns him.

“Sir, yes sir,” Carl agrees.

Normally, we would do drills on whatever needed work at our last game, run some plays, then do a scrimmage, but after a few minutes of Hargraves warming up while Carl gives him pointers, Coach skates overs and asks, “Care for a rematch?”

“Ready to prove myself, Coach.”

Hargraves looks determined, maybe a little nervous.

“No asking us if we’re ready?” Donovan teases with a wink at Jason.

“You’re D1 athletes and the reigning Frozen Four champions. If you can’t score on a guy who hasn’t played in any official capacity in years, then we deserve to lose.”

I hate to admit I was one of the cocky ones. I saw him play with Madison, knew he was good, but still thought I was better. That we were better. But in a shootout setting, he stopped 99% of what we sent his way. Slapshots, wrist shots, deke or straight on…he’s a wall.

“I’ve been watching you guys play for years,” Jason assures us after each forward tries – and fails – to score on him.

“Don’t give that same fucking excuse,” Donovan warns him before smiling. “Really glad you’re on our team.”

“I guess we just…don’t show up anymore?” Mike teases.

“Or work on your scoring,” Coach suggests, with the tiniest of smiles, like he’s just as relieved as I am.

Unfortunately, the scrimmage doesn’t go so well.

We play with Carl in one net and Jason in the other. Hargraves doesn’t let a single puck past the goal line, but neither does Carl, until the last few minutes, because the rest of us can’t get our shit together to score. Coach works on our lines, trying out rookies with seniors, so it makes sense that we’re a little out of whack, but some of the configurations make me wonder if we’ve ever played hockey at all.

Seems like we fixed the goalie problem, but now we need to work on team dynamics, or it won’t be worth shit.

Mandatory group hangs and team dinners might be in order.

Chapter Fifteen