Page 28
MITCH
Between Eagles practice, therapy, working out, and coaching… I’ve managed to stay pretty busy during this suspension. It’s going by faster than I thought it would. One week down… four to go.
Monday morning I’m lacing up my skates for practice with my Eagles teammates. Last week I worked with a trainer by myself since the guys were on an away stent for most of the week. Even though it was obnoxious that they came to the Wombats game over the weekend, I’m disturbed by how much I’m looking forward to everyone being around today.
The noise, chatter, chaos, friendly smack-talking. Did I actually miss it? Surely not. I’m just out of sorts from spending so much time at home.
We’re working with our power play coach today, which I love. My position as a defenseman means I keep my eyes on the puck at all times. It’s my job to ensure the offense doesn’t get anywhere near the net with said puck. Keeping the other team from scoring is just as satisfying to me as getting the puck in the net myself. I think it’s why I connect with Noah, because his defensive skills take me back to when I was twelve. When I lived with my granddad, until he passed.
Colby tries, unsuccessfully, to zoom past me. He has the puck and I’m in front of him, skating backwards. With my stick, I steal the puck from him and pass it to West. Colby catches up to him, trying to steal the puck back, but West does one of those fancy moves of his to fake him out, then shoots the puck to me.
I’m surprised at first, usually West would just put it in the net. He’s a puck-hog.
And since I’m unprepared, it flies right between my legs. I spin and catch it quickly, taking it across the ice and shooting it towards the top right corner of the net. Bruce reaches up and nearly catches it in his glove, but just barely misses and it goes in.
I glance at West and he winks at me. I’m not sure what’s going on today, did we slip into some portal to a magical fantasy land? First, I’m enjoying being around people, and secondly, I don’t want to punch Weston Kershaw’s face in. I blink a few times and West skates off.
Bruce whistles low through his goalie mask. “Man, all this rest is upping The Machine’s game!”
Remy slams into me from behind, almost knocking me to the ground. He’s the one guy on the team who’s even bigger than I am.
I shove him off and he chuckles. “Ahh, there’s that grumpy face we all love. When’s the next Wombats game?”
“I’m not telling any of you that information.” I remove a glove with my teeth and play with the tape on my hockey stick.
Bruce, who’s leaning against the net a few yards away from us, yells, “I already got their schedule online!”
I swear under my breath, causing Remy to chuckle again. West shoots a puck into the net easily since Bruce isn’t paying attention. “Forward it to me! Mel wants to come next time.”
Colby perks up and skates over to join the conversation. “Is she bringing Noel?”
West shakes his head. “You’re hopeless.”
“Hopelessly in love,” Colby says with a dramatic sigh. West hooks his leg with his stick and sends him flying across the ice on his stomach.
Bruce laughs, settling back into the net and blocking shots the rest of the team is sending at him. I skate over to the bench and grab my water bottle and guzzle half of it, Colby, West, and Remy following closely behind.
“When do you start coaching that kid? Noah?” Remy asks before taking a swig of his own water.
“None of your business,” I answer.
Colby and West share a look.
“What was that?” I ask, looking between the two of them.
“Will, um, Andie be getting one-on-one lessons too?” Colby asks, somehow managing to keep a straight face.
I shoot him an unamused glare.
“You could give her a different kind of one-on-one lesson,” Colby offers. “Something a little hotter than ice skating?”
My eyes narrow and I’m about to lunge for him, but he’s smart enough to see the blaze in my eyes and skates off quickly, laughter rumbling from him the whole time.
And here I was thinking I was actually enjoying my teammates for once.
* * *
The next morning, I walk inside Dr. Curtis’s office for our weekly session. He looks up from where he’s sitting behind his large oak desk and smiles, his glasses resting at the tip of his nose like he was reading something before I walked in. As usual, he’s wearing slacks and a dress shirt.
