Chapter 31
KNOX
“What the fuck is there to do in Columbus?” one of the younger guys bitches in the locker room.
I concentrate on putting on my pads. The thrill I used to get before a game is missing. It makes me wonder why I’m hanging on so tight. Even the thought of winning the cup isn’t enough motivation.
“Should I get an umbrella?” Asher asks me.
My eyebrows scrunch together, and I stop what I’m doing. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“There’s a dark cloud over your head, and I don’t want it to get me,” he says.
“Fuck off,” I grumble.
“Careful, Rennick, you’re becoming as warm and fuzzy as Jude,” he says and points to our perpetually surly friend.
“I agree with Knox. Go fuck yourself, Cross,” Jude says to Asher. Then he sighs. “He’s got a point though, you are unusually grumpy. Even worse than after the Madison debacle,” he says to me.
West stares at me as if to say, See, you’re not fooling anyone.
Asher lowers his voice. “I know that Sloane is gone, and you’re bummed, but it isn’t like it would have worked out with her. She’s like seventeen years younger than you. What did you really have in common?”
“More than you’d think,” I mutter.
“So get her back,” Asher says, like it’s easy.
“Sure, I’ll just jump in my time machine and rewind back before I fucked up. Should be easy,” I snap.
Ash sits down next to me on the bench in front of his locker.
“I know something happened last week. West is hovering around you like he’s afraid you’re going to get hurt or something.
You’re wandering around at night in every city we stop in.
You’re playing fine, but there’s no passion there anymore. It left with her, didn’t it?”
I nod. I’m not going to offer any more details, especially not of the night everything went to shit. He’s right though, my desire to play left with her.
“It doesn’t take a genius to see that you’re hurt. You’ve been in pain for a long time, probably since last season. Did she get tired of watching you suffer so you could play a game?” he asks.
“Yeah, she didn’t like that, or the things I was doing to try and make it to the end of the season,” I admit.
“The pills?”
I guess my secret wasn’t very well kept. “Yeah,” I croak.
Ash shrugs. “Can’t really blame her. I wasn’t thrilled with watching you slide down that path either.”
“You knew?” It’s a stupid question. He just told me that he knew. What I really want to ask is how he knew, but I guess I’m not ready to face the fact that I’ve been fucking up longer than just that night a week ago.
He stares at me and shakes his head. “We are all guilty in this. We wanted to win, so we ignored when you maybe slurred your words a little, or got a little too loose. I share a room with West, so I knew when he left after Sloane called him. Honestly, I’ve been pretty pissed off with you too, and I didn’t see whatever has West checking his phone when he wakes up in a cold sweat. ”
“So you see why I’m not just going to get her back,” I say.
“That’s up to you,” Ash replies. “What is more important to you, the next couple months of hockey, or the rest of your life?”
“I can’t just leave you guys in the lurch,” I argue.
Ash looks pointedly at the new kid, Bishop. “Did you not see him play the last game? The kid has great hands. We’ll be fine.”
I nod and it gives me an idea. Slapping Ash on the knee, I get up to go find the coach.
“Coach, can I have a word with you?” I ask, stepping into his office.
“What’s going on, Knox?”
“I wanted to talk to you about starting the new kid. He’s good, way better than Grady. You know my shoulder isn’t holding up well, and I think if Bishop gets more playing time he’ll be better prepared for the playoffs, assuming we can hang on to our winning streak.”
Coach steeples his fingers under his chin and gets that faraway look in his eyes that means he’s kicking around my suggestion. “We can gradually increase it, as long as you work with him in practice. I agree, we need him up to speed as quickly as possible. You know, just in case.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll go talk to the kid right now, get the ball rolling,” I tell him, then head back to the locker room.
“Bishop,” I call out, “come talk to me for a minute.”
He follows me over to a quieter spot in the room. “How old are you?” I ask him.
“Twenty-one. I turn twenty-two in August,” he answers.
My brow furrows. The way he played the other day, I don’t understand how he has been wasted in the minors since he graduated high school. Four years is a long time for a player of his caliber to not move up to the pros.
“Have you been in the minors since you graduated high school?”
He shakes his head. “No, I have been playing college hockey, but since I had college credits from running start during high school I was eligible to graduate early. It was in the middle of this season, so I was placed in the minors for the last couple of months.”
That makes a lot more sense. It also tells me that my instincts about him aren’t wrong.
I look over my shoulder making sure there aren’t any stray reporters roaming around.
“I am going to be retiring after this season. I may not even make it that far. My shoulder is fucked. I need surgery to fix a ligament tear. It isn’t so bad that I can’t move my shoulder, but the pain is intense.
That means you are going to start splitting ice time with me starting tonight.
The other guys don’t know this, but that time is going to increase each night.
You and I will be working together in practice.
You’re damn good kid, but you haven’t had the whole season to grow into this position or team.
You and I need to shove as much of my experience into your game play as possible in case my shoulder starts holding the team back. ”
“I won’t let you down, Mr. Rennick,” Bishop swears.
I shove my hand through my hair. “Jesus, kid, call me Knox or Rennick. There’s no mister anything around here.”
His head bobs enthusiastically in agreement.
“Alright then, let’s go kick Columbus’s ass,” I say, and slap him on the back.
“When did Columbus learn to play hockey?” West asks me as we take the bench the first time we switch.
We’re both panting and dripping in sweat. “I’m guessing it happened after the last time we played them,” I say.
My plan is working well. Bishop and I switched off with him carrying the heavy lifting against the Columbus Command’s star center, and me mostly facing the second line. With Grady gone our other three lines perform well.
“Tag, you’re it, Bishop,” I say, panting, when I switch out with him.
It’s only halfway through the first period, and my arm already feels like lead.
He’s practically buzzing with anticipation.
I can see the Command bench is confused about why the rookie keeps jumping in when their best player takes the ice.
Considering my recent appearance on the injured list, it shouldn’t be a huge mystery that I’m not up to the top of my game.
The thing no one seems to accept, even me I guess, is that I’ll never hit that peak again.
I open and close my hand trying to get some feeling back into it in case I need to switch with Bishop soon.
Bishop wins the face-off and shoots the puck out to Dante.
Their defenders manage to block his shot, and get in between him and Bishop, but he’s fast and smart.
Dante dekes out the Command’s giant Swedish defender, who honestly looks like he’s trying to cosplay Thor, and shoot the puck out to West, behind Dante.
This is where Columbus’s game starts to fall apart.
They focus on West, probably because he’s a known opponent, but he and Bishop communicate perfectly on the ice.
Bish slyly moves into position, and at the last minute West passes the puck to him and he sets up and takes the shot before the goalie has switched his attention from West.
West switches regularly through the period, as usual, and he’s showing the signs of the increased pressure Columbus is putting on him, but he’s holding up like the pro he is.
Bishop is still going strong, even when he swaps with the third line.
I’d like to tell myself it’s because he’s being overlooked by the other team, but I know it’s also the fact he’s still young and hungry to build his career.
While I might not be ancient in most people’s eyes, no one would consider me young in this sport. I’m also not hungry in any way. I’ve had my time to build my career, and there’s no doubt that when I leave the ice for the last time my jersey will hang from the rafters.
I certainly look like someone on the verge of retirement with how much sweat is rolling down my face.
My play time is pretty lackluster, but I do manage to get one goal before the buzzer at the end of the game.
That makes my fans happy, but it is eclipsed by the two scored by Bishop.
West and Dante each score during the game, and we manage to best the Command five to three.
At my best I could have managed a hat trick against this team, but like I said, those days are over.
We head straight to the bus after we’re done with the press and changed so we can hop on the plane to go to Dallas. We wrap up this trip in Las Vegas before going home to Portland for a two week stretch.
On the bus a lot of the younger guys get on the phone to call their girlfriends. There are a couple of guys who are married. Usually I like to hear them cooing to their kids, but today the sounds of domestic bliss rub my nerves like sandpaper.
West leans over the top of my seat and slaps his hand on the headrest to get my attention. “Have you tried to call her?”
“A few times, but I keep getting sent to her voicemail,” I admit.
He shrugs. “At least that means you’re not blocked. Hopefully it means she’s going to talk to you again someday. Maybe after you retire at the end of the season.”
I nod, but my instincts tell me that if I only go back to her after I retire she isn’t going to be willing to hear me out.
That will be like treating her like my fallback.
It would be like me telling her that hockey was more important all over again.
Like she is good enough for me now that I can’t have hockey anymore.
I can’t say I blame her either. I know I’m not treating my body the way I should. What I did that night with the pills should have been enough. If I weren’t dealing with an injury, and risking my life to keep playing I don’t think she’d be even slightly bothered by me playing.
Now I just have to figure out what I’ll regret walking away from more, hockey or my relationship with Sloane.