Chapter Eight
SOREN
The sounds of sticks slapping pucks and skates carving through ice are the same with the Metros as they are with the Slash.
With my eyes closed, I wouldn’t be able to tell who was who.
But with them open, there’s no mistake. The men wearing dark purple Metros practice jerseys are very different from my usual teammates in bright Slash yellow.
I bat away a puck Sage sends my way and smirk at my friend. “Still can’t get one past me.”
“Ha ha. We’ll see about that.” He loops in front of the net to collect his puck and grins. “It’s great having you here. I miss playing together.”
“Me too.” Their backup goalie has the flu, so I’m with the team for at least this road trip. Here in Buffalo this afternoon for the Saturday matinee that will air on the hockey network, Toronto on Monday, and Montreal on Tuesday. But possibly longer.
The guys work on drills in front of me, and I fend off puck after puck. A few get by, one from Maxim, another from Jonas, and one from Sage who whoops like he single-handedly won the championship.
My Uncle Nils, one of the Metros assistant coaches, looks on. He may not be the goaltending coach, but I know I’ll get some advice when practice wraps. He’s awesome like that. Ever since I was a kid, he’d take the time to talk, explain, and advise with more patience than any coach I’ve ever had.
In front of me on defense, Remy and Rhys chirp at Maxim and Jonas and chat about concert tickets Rhys managed to score as a present for Sage.
In the few years I’ve been with the Slash, I’ve been called up to the Metros five times due to one of the team’s goalies being sick or injured.
Each time, I do my best to impress the team and the fans and show that I belong in the NAPH.
I know the team monitors what happens with the Slash, but playing against the top leagues players is different than playing against the guys in the PHL.
Most of those guys are younger and still developing. Not so with the NAPH.
So much is different between the two leagues. The NAPH has chartered planes instead of buses, better food on road trips, teams stay at nicer hotels, and the paychecks—though they can vary widely—are much bigger than the range PHL players make.
Sage, Remy, and Morgan can more than afford to get their own places now, but I’m happy they haven’t. I don’t know if Phil and Gio would open up the house to new roommates if they go, but no one could replace these guys.
Jonas cuts around Rhys and fires a shot. I drop into a butterfly and cover the puck. Then glance behind me to make sure it didn’t slip by somehow.
He stops just inside the crease, sending a spray of snow over Rhys’s legs. “You’re good, Soren. You have it.”
Laughing, Rhys shoves his shoulder, pushing Jonas so no part of his skate remains in the blue area. “Get away from my goalie.”
“Nah, Jonas is fine.” Standing, I clear the puck away, sending it to Remy.
Jonas and I got to know each other pretty well when he recuperated at our house last season while I healed from a torn hamstring and he dealt with a broken foot and high ankle sprain.
The rest of our respective teammates were on road trips, so we watched movies, ate takeout, and bitched about being injured and missing time away from the game we love.
Being friends with Rhys, Quinn, Jonas, and Maxim, and of course, Sage, Remy, and Morgan, makes joining the Metros, however temporary it may be, easier.
I’ve picked up a lot from things they’ve said in conversations around our dinner table, and have studied video clips with the guys, and paid attention to any scrap of knowledge dropped my way.
This is where I want to be. But I miss seeing Ty across the ice. His skating speed is so much faster now, and I think he’ll be playing for the Metros soon.
Coach Grant gathers us all for a final chat, walking through things on the whiteboard. When he dismisses us, I skate toward Uncle Nils. “Any thoughts?”
He plays with the zipper on his jacket, drawn up close to his chin. “Several.”
“Shit.” I glance at the net. “I thought I had a pretty good practice.”
“I didn’t say they were negative thoughts, did I?” He bumps his shoulder into mine as we exit the rink.
I huff a laugh. “No.”
He and my dad share similar features and coloring, and when he smiles he looks more like him. They have the same crinkles around their eyes and the same expression lines. He gives me a gentle shove toward the locker room. “Get changed. I want wings.”
He’s not the only one. Sitting side by side, Sage and Morgan debate where we should go for the wings, with Quinn weighing in. Rhys calls out his opinion, Maxim does the same, and Jonas suggests someplace different, probably to mess with Maxim.
I dress, happy to be surrounded by the comforting chaos that is my friend group. “Nils wants to get some too. We can go to a different place. None of you want to eat with one of the coaches.”
Sage pokes my arm. “We want to eat with you. Besides, Nils is cool. And it’s like he’ll be there more in the capacity of your uncle than a coach.”
There’s enough agreement with the guys that I don’t question it.
We end up at a restaurant which claims they invented the hot wing. I take a seat with Nils at the end of one table so we can talk and the guys won’t feel like they have to be on their best behavior around a coach.
Nils grabs a wing dripping with sauce from the mountain in front of us. “My thoughts about your game are that you seem more relaxed than I’ve ever seen you. Not only yesterday’s practice and today. I’ve seen that translated into the last several games you’ve played.”
“Huh.” I bite into a wing. It’s spicy and messy, and I wonder if Tyler and Bax would like it. “I don’t think I’m doing anything differently. You know I don’t change up my routine unless something’s not working.”
He dips a celery stalk into the bowl of blue cheese dressing. “I was wondering if the change was due to something outside of hockey.”
My gaze falls to the guys, but the housemates are chatting about what to do for Phil and Gio’s anniversary, and Quinn is telling the others about something getting fixed at his apartment building.
I grab another wing. “The only thing different is I’m seeing someone. Well, two someones. Tyler Moore.”
“Your teammate.” He picks up a celery stalk. “I spoke with his coach when he was traded.”
“Yeah. And Bax Knight. He works at the history museum, and he’s in a band. We’ve been together since before Christmas. Pretty much since Tyler came to the team.”
He chomps on the celery, his gaze focused on the soccer game playing on the big screen hanging on the opposite wall. “I wondered if something was up on Christmas when you skipped out right after dessert. Brian thought something was wrong with the cake.”
“I don’t think Brian could bake a bad cake if he tried.
” My mouth waters just thinking about the double chocolate cake with chocolate ganache frosting he made for my uncle’s birthday last year.
Nils’s partner is a wizard in the kitchen.
He can make anything. “The first time Remy met him, he was so inspired, he started experimenting with recipes, then ones in viral videos, and that’s how we ended up eating chili with gummy worms.”
Nils tips his head back and laughs so loud, the whole table looks our way. Seated between Morgan and Rhys, Remy leans over the table. “Did I hear my name?”
I wave a wing in his direction. “Just talking about your cooking. And Brian’s baking.”
Remy grins, sits back, and pulls out his phone. “He made me a birthday cake in the shape of Benny. You have to see it.” He addresses that last line to the Metros who don’t live with us.
With the guys stuck looking at the million pictures Remy took of the cake and Benny posing near it, I turn back to Nils.
He wipes his fingers on a napkin and gives me his full attention. “Tell me about them.”
“They’re… great. Ty’s a little shy, but he opens up more as he gets comfortable. He likes video games as much as I do, and he’s as obsessed with hockey. Bax likes history, and he’s an amazingly talented drummer. I’ll send you a link to check out his music.”
“You look happy.”
Shrugging, I think about how Gio said my eyes give me away. “I am. They care about the people in their lives, are good in all the ways that matter, and I think they care about me.” It’s a good feeling, and I’m still absorbing the wonder of it all.
Our schedules haven’t meshed well for seeing each other in person since we left Bax’s place on New Year’s Day, but we played a lot of our video games through the app during the Slash road trip last week, text all the time, and we were able to meet up at the museum two days ago.
Tyler and I surprised Bax by jumping on his last tour of the day, then had dinner together before heading back to the house and helping Tyler unpack the boxes the moving company dropped off.
I got the call that I would be joining the Metros as we sorted through what to keep in his room and what would be stored in the garage.
He passes a stack of napkins to the other end of the table. “It’s good to see you excited about something other than hockey.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your world is small, mainly consisting of your teammates, though mostly your housemates. So it’s good to see that expanding. If you get too focused on one thing, you lose out on so much else.”
I frown at the small pile of discarded bones on my plate. “It’s not only my housemates or teammates. We’re friends with Rhys and his buddies.” Using a bone, I point to the guys at the end of the table.
Nils picks up his soda. His gaze drifts to his players, and he smiles at Quinn refereeing a spat between Maxim and Jonas about stolen wings and fries. “They’re still hockey players. And they’re an extension of Rhys. Brought into your life because of Sage. So it’s the same thing.”
I’ve not looked at it that way before, and I’m not entirely convinced he’s right. After all, I still make an effort in those friendships. Though my lips and tongue are tingling, I grab another wing and drag it through the blue cheese. “Yoga. I wouldn’t say I’m excited by it. But it’s a hobby.”
An insular one. But still.
“A practice you started because it helps you with hockey.”
I search my brain for anything that can prove I’m not defined by one thing.
“I’m getting into photography. Only a few pictures so far, but I could see myself doing that more.
” I don’t add that I got the idea while away with the same friend group, on a trip arranged by them, because it would only prove his point. One I now see.
His eyes light up with his smile. “Are you? I’m happy to hear it. Send us some pictures, Brian and I would love to see them.”
“I will.”
“I’m not trying to give you a hard time. I know things were tough for you because of your brother. You were made to feel like you had to fade into the background because of his need to shine.” He pushes a basket of fries my way. “That’s always bothered me.”
I take a handful. Nils has always been my safe person to talk to, standing up for me when my parents would make excuses for my brother’s behavior. “I think Johan never got over the fact that he had to share attention once I came along.”
Chuckling, he grabs some fries. “I could say the same about your dad when it came to me. People say the oldest child has the most responsibility or the hardest time because they’re the first. But we younger siblings don’t have it easy. Lucky for me, your dad wasn’t anything like your brother.”
“Hockey was all I had that Johan couldn’t do.”
Though Johan tried hockey after Nils got me involved, he hated it. Hockey became the one thing where I could shine and not worry about him trying to steal the spotlight.
“And look at you now.” He lifts his soda, gesturing to me and the teammates around us.
“Playing well. Impressing the right people. Though, when you first started, I never imagined you’d want to be a goalie.
I thought you’d be a defenseman like me.
But back then, you guarded that net like you owned it. You still do.”
I’m not sure what to say to that, or why it’s making me emotional. Maybe because he took the time to see me. That he wanted to help. And that my being good at this one thing completely changed my life. “Yeah, well… I like my little corner of the rink. What can I say, goalies are weird.”
He grins. “True.”
“Goalies are weird.” Sage slips his arm around me, squeezes me hard, and from the compassion glittering in his eyes, I wonder how much he heard of our conversation. “But we love you anyway.”
The backs of my eyes burn. I sniffle and hope that if anyone notices, they’ll assume it’s due to the intensity of the wings. “Thanks.”
I feel like everything I’ve ever wanted is nearly within reach. And if it’s truly down to me relaxing more because I have Tyler and Bax in my life… then things can only get better from here.