Chapter 24
CHAPTER 24
ALEC
“What do you think it would cost to get just the bottom of the L removed?” Theo asks, holding his arm up as he studies his new tattoo.
Even though it’s past lunchtime, they’re sitting on the opposite side of my kitchen island eating piles of pancakes, sausage, bacon, eggs. Breakfast is pretty much the only category of food either twin is comfortable cooking, but they’re buying their own groceries, they mostly clean up after themselves, and when they do cook, they’re usually willing to share, so I can’t complain.
“Just embrace it,” Carter says. “The team isn’t giving up your nickname. Just be the apple guy.”
Theo rolls his eyes. “I can’t be the apple guy. I’m a defenseman. I’m supposed to be tough.”
“I’m tough, and I like apples,” I say dryly, and Carter chuckles.
It’s only been a few weeks since Theo and I had our reckoning, but our relationship is already improving. He’s still dealing with some anger issues, mostly on the ice, but he hasn’t been out drinking again, and he hasn’t missed a therapy appointment yet.
It helps that I’ve done my level best to keep him busy enough that he doesn’t have a choice. When we’re traveling with the team, he’s my roommate. When we’re in Harvest Hollow, he’s either at my house with his brother, or he’s out with me. The other guys are stepping up too. On the way home from our last away game, Nathan had a long conversation with Theo, likely about losing his own dad. And Dominic, who’s an explosive skater, has been working with both twins in the weight room, sharing the workouts he created to increase his power on lateral starts.
It’s clear the team is rallying around them as much as they can. There are still no guarantees. Theo has to keep putting in the work. But it’s at least easier to see the light at the end of the tunnel.
It’s also been nice seeing his relationship with his brother improve. Only incrementally—it takes a long time to break habits. But it’s been enough to notice, and I know Carter has noticed too.
We’re back at the Summit for a home game tonight, our last one before Thanksgiving, and for the first time, Evie and Juno are coming to watch. Megan and my parents are also on their way into town—we’re all spending the holiday together at my place—so this is the perfect game for Evie to attend, since there will be plenty of people she trusts to help with Juno.
Evie’s ex-husband, Devon, will also be at my house for Thanksgiving, but I’m choosing to ignore how uncomfortable this makes me. Mostly because Evie doesn’t need to worry about my feelings when she already has so much on her mind. She just needs my support. My steadiness. My trust that Devon’s presence doesn’t have anything to do with my relationship with Evie.
He’s coming for Juno, and that’s a good thing.
Doesn’t mean I like it. Doesn’t mean I don’t really want to punch the guy. But I’m willing to pretend I don’t for Evie’s sake.
Just for the record, though. If we’re talking hours logged in Juno’s company, I’ve got the man beat by a mile. And I don’t plan on that changing any time soon.
I stand and reach for my suit coat draped over the back of my chair. “Are you guys riding with me to the Summit?”
“Nah,” Carter says. “Our bones aren’t nearly as rickety as yours. We don’t need the extra warmup time, so we’ll drive over in a bit.”
I ignore the jab because Carter isn’t wrong. I spend at least thirty extra minutes before every game applying heat and stretching with one of the trainers just to make sure I’m as loose as possible before hitting the ice.
I nod and grab my keys from the counter. “Sounds good. See you over there.”
As soon as I’m in my truck, I return a missed call from my mom, learning that their plane has landed in Asheville and they’re working on picking up their rental car, then I call Evie.
She answers on the first ring. “Hi.”
“Hey. How’s it going?”
She breathes out a sound that makes my blood heat. “Mmm. I just took an amazingly long nap, and I’m still in bed, so I would say it’s going pretty well.”
I’m momentarily distracted by the imagery her words bring to mind. Evie in her bed, lounging on her pillows, her dark hair falling onto her shoulders. I almost ask her for a picture. We’ve seen less of each other the past few weeks—we had four away games in a row, which kept us on the road for almost ten days—and I’m hungry for the sight of her. But I’ll see her tonight, and then we’ll have three uninterrupted days together.
Well. Uninterrupted by hockey. I’m sure Juno will stick to her regular schedule.
Evie yawns. “Juno woke up super early, which was super annoying,” she says, “but then she tired herself out rolling in circles around the living room. So when she napped, I napped.”
“Sounds like a good strategy. Did she really roll in circles?”
“Like she was circumnavigating the globe,” Evie says. “She rolls up and a little to the left every time, so it takes about nine rolls to get back to where she started.”
I chuckle at Evie’s description. One thing I did not expect when we started dating was how much Juno would change. Every day she’s doing something different. Reaching some new milestone.
I’d never even really thought about babies having milestones before Juno. Now, I have a chart of them saved on my phone.
“I swear, she’s going to start sitting up on her own any day now, and I’m not even a little ready for it,” Evie says. “What’s up with you? How are you?”
“On my way to the Summit.”
“Have you heard from your family yet?”
“Yeah, they’re all good. Landed and on the ground and getting a rental car.”
Evie grumbles. “I wish they’d just let me come pick them up.”
“It would have been a tight fit in your Honda. They’re fine. They don’t mind getting a car,” I say. “Will you still meet them at my house before the game?”
“Yeah, but I’ll work that out with Megan. You just focus on you. We’ll figure out everything else.”
“But you know where to pick up the tickets? My mom has asked me at least three times.”
“Alec,” she gently chides. “We’ll be fine. Stop worrying.”
I force myself to take a deep breath. It’s been a long time since Evie has seen me play in person, and she’s never seen me play as an Appie. Even though I know she doesn’t care about my stats, I still want to play my best. With my family watching too, I’d love to have a game that’s better than my current average, because right now, I’m playing my worst season on record.
Every game, my minutes played gets lower and lower, a combination of me changing myself out faster, whenever my knee starts to hurt, and Coach Davis shuffling defensive pairs, switching us up, looking for better chemistry, more effective combinations.
I don’t like to think about what it all means, so I’m mostly just not , instead channeling all my energy into the parts of my job I can control. Working with Theo. Keeping team morale up. Babying my knee.
“I’m done worrying,” I say to Evie. “I just want everyone to have a good time.”
“We will. We’ll be watching you. That’s all that matters.”
We talk for a few more minutes, then say goodbye as I turn into the Summit parking lot and pull into my usual spot. A few spaces down, Felix is standing next to his Audi, and he lifts his hand in a wave.
In between the parking lot and the Summit, a crowd of fans lines the sidewalk. We’re still hours away from puck drop, but this is a home game, and fans have learned that if they come early, we’ll usually stop on our way inside to sign autographs or take pictures.
Felix reaches my side. “You ready for this?” he asks, motioning to the crowd.
I shoot him a look. “Are we ever really ready for this?”
Parker is outside, filming our progress toward the stadium, and she waves, giving us each a thumbs up to let us know she has the content she needs. The videos she makes highlighting the team walking into the arena are always a hit, something that’s led a lot of guys to get flashier and flashier with their game-day suits. Last home game, Dumbo wore Appies turquoise from head to toe—pants, dress shirt, suit, even his shoes.
Felix and I spend the next few minutes making our way down the line, signing posters, jerseys, and hats, and posing for at least a dozen different selfies.
“How are you?” I say to a little girl holding a team poster. “Want me to sign that for you?”
She nods, then hands it over. “You’re my second-favorite Appie,” she says as she pushes her glasses up her nose.
“Yeah? Just your second? Who’s got the top spot?” I drop to a knee in front of her so I can talk to her eye-to-eye while I sign.
Her gaze shifts past me and pauses on Felix. “Jamison’s my favorite because I’m a goalie and he’s a goalie, but every good goalie needs solid defensemen, so I decided you should be a favorite too.”
I lift my eyebrows as I hand the poster back to her. “Well, I appreciate that.”
“You guys weren’t really vibing at your last game, though. Jamison let some shots through, but you didn’t have his back like you should have,” the little girl says.
It’s weird to hear criticism coming from someone so small, but she’s not exactly wrong. Our last game ended with one of our ugliest losses of the season. It takes a whole team to win or lose a game, and our offense was weaker than usual, with Eli and Logan spending way too much time in the penalty box, but Felix was left on his own more than he should have been.
Felix moves up beside me as I stand, and I can tell by his amused expression he heard every word of the little girl’s critique.
“The last shot in the third period?” she goes on. “For real. Where were you? Were you even watching the puck?”
“Okay, Bree. That’s enough.” A hand drops on her shoulder, and I look up to meet the gaze of a guy who I assume is her father.
“Sorry,” he says. “She’s really into the sport. We’re all big fans.”
“We appreciate it,” I say, then I look down at Bree, mostly amused but still slightly discomfited by her honest critique. “We’ll try to play better for you today, all right?”
As soon as we’re inside the Summit and away from the crowd, Felix gives me a good-natured shove. “Yeah, Sheridan. Why’d you leave me hanging? Were you even watching the puck?”
I chuckle. “She’s got a future, I think.” We’re quiet as we continue down the hall, but the little girl’s question is pinging around my brain.
Were you even watching the puck?
I look over at Felix. “Was she right about the shot at the end of the third period? Was my game off?”
“You saw the score. We were all off,” Felix says.
“I know. But did I really not have your back?”
Felix’s steps slow as we approach the locker room. “Come on, man. Are you seriously letting a six-year-old get inside your head?”
“Should I?” I ask, suddenly intent on getting an honest answer. I’m aware of my own stats, so I’m not claiming things haven’t been different this season. But when I’m on the ice, I’m on. My play hasn’t suffered. At least, I didn’t think it had. “Was she right?” I ask again.
Before Felix can answer, Coach Davis appears at the end of the hall. “Sheridan.” He tilts his head toward his office. “Come talk to me a minute.”
I look back at Felix. His expression is unreadable, but he drops a hand on my shoulder, giving it a quick squeeze before moving past me and pushing into the locker room.
Tension coils in my gut as I walk toward Coach’s office. It’s not unusual for him to pull me aside and talk about one thing or another, but after the comment from the little girl outside and my brief conversation with Felix, there’s a sense of foreboding to this meeting that I’ve never felt before.
I lower myself into a chair across from his desk. “What’s up, Coach?”
He clasps his hands in front of him and gives me a long look. “You’ve done good work with Theo the past few weeks.”
I nod. “Thank you. He’s a good defender. And it seems like he’s made some good progress in therapy.”
Coach nods, then breathes out a sigh. “Alec, there’s no easy way to say this.” He pulls off his hat, then rubs a hand over his hair before putting it back on again. “I’m pulling you from our special teams. Power plays and penalty kills.”
I lean forward. “What?”
“And I’m starting Carter with Nathan tonight.”
The tension from earlier morphs into a sinking ball of dread. “Coach, if it’s my knee, I’ll play through the pain. Get another shot of cortisone. You can’t?—”
He holds up a hand, silencing my protests. “It’s already done. The decision is made.”
I slump back into my chair and work to slow my breathing. I probably should have seen this coming. Except, I did see it coming. I’ve been watching my stats. I’ve just been choosing not to do anything about it. Choosing to focus on Evie and Juno instead.
“I know how hard you’ve been taking care of your knee,” Coach says. “And you’re still a valuable part of this team. But Alec, be objective for a minute. Even outside of your injury, do you really feel like you’ve been playing with your whole heart?”
I swallow my first impulse, which is to bark back, I thought I had been. At this point, it won’t be productive to argue with Coach. And after the look Felix gave me when I asked him to be honest, I’m beginning to think my first impulse isn’t actually the truth.
“Alec, look at me,” Coach Davis says, and I slowly raise my gaze to meet his. “It’s okay to ask yourself if this is still what you want. And it’s okay to admit it if it isn’t. We all know the schedule is crap. That it’s hard on families, hard on bodies. You’ve put a lot into this team. And I will be honored to coach you through your very last game whether it’s this season or five seasons from now. There is no ultimatum in this conversation. But my priority is to win games. And the decisions I’m making are what I think will give us the best shot.”
I’m in the locker room applying heat to my knee when Nathan drops down beside me, stick and tape in hand.
“Is Evie coming tonight?” he asks as he lines up the tape with careful precision.
I readjust the heating pad. “Yeah. Bringing Juno and everything. Plus, my whole family is in town.”
He nods. “That’s got to feel good. I don’t remember the last time you had family in the stands.”
I grab my own stick from where it’s leaning against my stall and work on peeling off the tape so I can replace it. “Yeah, it’s nice. Not sure how much they’ll get to see me play, but I guess I’ll take what I can get.” The words come out biting, and Nathan looks up sharply. I frown and shake my head. “Sorry. That wasn’t—I shouldn’t be barking at you.”
“It sucks, man,” he says, and I know from his tone he’s already been told about the changes to tonight’s lineup.
“It’s the right call though,” I say, meeting Nathan’s eye. “You’ve noticed too?”
He’s quiet for too long, eyes on his stick, so I lean forward, elbows propped on my knees.
“Just be straight with me, man.”
“You’ve been off,” he says. “But I’m not sure it’s just your knee.”
“What does that mean?”
He taps the side of his head. “It seems like it’s more up here.”
I think of Coach’s question. Do you really feel like you’ve been playing with your whole heart?
A sense of panic swirls in my gut, slowly clawing its way up my throat. It’s not like I’ve been unaware of the realities of my injury, my age, the looming possibility of retirement sometime in the future. But in a matter of minutes, I’ve been confronted with a very different reality than what I thought I was living.
How did I miss it?
How did I miss my teammates thinking I’ve been letting them down?
I think about the time I’ve spent texting Evie from the road. How quickly I hurry from the Summit after a game because I want to get over to see her.
I’ve been distracted. Ignoring the signs. And my team has suffered for it.
I’m the captain of this team.
And I’ve let everyone down.
I pull the heating pad off my knee and toss it onto the bench before heading over to where Eric is waiting to help me stretch.
“How’s it feeling?” the trainer asks as I lay down on the table.
“Pretty good,” I say, though the words feel a little more hollow than they should. “Better than a week ago.”
My phone buzzes with a text, and I pull it out, holding it over my head while Eric maneuvers my right knee up to my chest.
“Hey, I need you to focus, man,” Eric says.
“Yep, just one sec,” I say, quickly pulling up the message. It’s from Evie—a picture of her and Juno, both decked out in Appies gear. Evie is wearing her Appies jersey— my Appies jersey—and she’s smiling wide, her eyes the same bright blue as Juno’s.
I’m still studying the picture when a second one pops up, this one of my entire family. Mom, Dad, Megan, and Evie right in the middle, Juno in her arms.
A text comes in immediately after the second photo.
Evie
I hope you’re feeling great and that your knee is kind to you. Juno and I will be cheering for you.
At the end of her message, there’s a single red heart that makes my heart push against my ribcage with new pressure. I want Evie to be proud of me as much as I want to be what my team needs. And I’ve been trying.
But what if I just can’t do it anymore?
I drop my phone onto my chest and focus on the stretches Eric is working me through, willing the ligaments in my knee to loosen.
Critics might say my game is off because I’m distracting myself with Evie, losing my focus.
Others might say I’m just getting old. Or they might look at the latest scans of my knee and say it’s a wonder I’m still playing at all.
But it doesn’t really matter what the reasons are.
What matters is that the time I’ve been dreading is finally here.