Chapter 17
JAMIE
GOOD TASTE. NICE HAIR.
Jamie jogged down the hallway in the Muskies practice arena. He’d already changed into his compression base layers and his team hoodie, and had spent about an hour doing PT for his hand before going through his usual warm-up.
His body was warm, muscles limber and ready.
Jamie opened the door to the locker room and inhaled. A smile stretched across his face at the sharp smell of sweat and the steady rumble of voices. Somebody had put on some electronic metal music–probably Esa. The Finns all loved that shit.
“Cap!” Matty looked up from where he was strapping on his shin pads. “Guys, look! Look! Sully’s back!”
The whole room erupted in cheers. Jamie felt his cheeks heat as he made the rounds, clapping backs and bumping fists. He’d just seen them all at the Christmas party, but still, it was different to be back at the rink.
Jamie took his usual spot between Mitchy and Coop, and muscle memory took over. His hands worked of their own accord, strapping on his pads before slapping them to check their tightness and positioning. Around him, guys worked on gearing up and taping their sticks.
“You’re coming with us on the road, right?” Cooper asked.
Jamie nodded. “It’ll be good to play before the Winter Classic. Hopefully get my legs under me and work out any kinks.”
“Thank fuck,” Mitch said from his other side. “I need you back as my plane buddy. Pauly took your seat, and all he talks about is Roman history.”
“We could learn a lot from studying their infantry formations!” Paul Roy shouted from his stall on the far wall.
“Can someone please explain to me what Roman infantry has to do with hockey?”
Pauly shook his head. “You just aren’t ready to think outside the box.”
“Thinking outside the box? What is this, a multi-level marketing scheme?” Mitch shot back.
Matt Lee poked his head into the locker room. “Wait, what do you guys think about me selling essential oils? My sister does it and makes bank.”
The response was loud and unified: “No!”
“I like your boyfriend.”
Jamie glanced over at Emīls, whose face flushed pink, like maybe he hadn’t meant to say something out loud. “Sorry,” the younger Swede continued. “I talked to him about music at your party and he is very nice. Good taste. Nice hair.”
“Great hair,” Onni chimed in, nodding. He was already in his pads, staring out at the room from his stall with solemn stoicism. “Much too cool for you.”
“What the hell, Onni?” Jamie looked over at the rookie goalie, indignant. “You live for free in my basement, you’d think you’d be nicer to me!”
Onni shrugged. “I am nice. I also tell truth.”
The guys around him laughed, and Jamie felt like he was finally releasing a breath he’d been holding. He was back with the boys, where he belonged.
The team made their way to the ice where they were joined by the coaches. Jamie skated in aimless circles, testing his edges and reminding his body of the weight of his gear, the feel of his stick in his hand.
The drills were second nature. He started slow, gradually working his body up to full speed and effort. Sweat beaded under his helmet, and he went by the bench to grab a drink before he lined up against Carter to work on corner puck battles.
On the whistle, they skated hard to the corner. Jamie’s body hit the boards and he turned, trying to get his stick in position to win the puck.
Carter was huge, taller and broader than Jamie, and he used every advantage he had to push Jamie out of position. Jamie worked his skate in, trying to kick the puck toward his stick.
“You wish, old man,” Carter growled, but there was humor in his voice.
“Spoke too soon,” Jamie shot back, right as he dug his stick in and scooped the puck out.
Carter groaned. “I hate how good you are.”
Jamie threw his hands up and laughed. “I’m on your team, man!”
They circled up to review their face-off sets, taking a knee around the whiteboard Coach Hollister had wheeled out onto the ice.
“Some knees are not made for kneeling,” Ollie muttered under his breath beside him.
Jamie nudged him in the shoulder. “Focus up. You’ve had some good chances to score off the face-off, especially if you get position in front of the net.”
Ollie turned his attention to their coach, and Jamie smiled.
He was so fucking back.
Practice had ended, but Jamie wasn’t done. After his time off, he needed the extra minutes on the ice, the extra reps with the puck. He could push himself today, and still have plenty of time to recover before he was back on the ice.
It was their last practice before their Christmas break–the whole league took off for three days, and then after the holiday the team would be hitting the road for two quick away games–Dallas and Chicago–before coming home for the Winter Classic.
Jamie made his way around the rink, gathering all the pucks in the center of the ice.
Grabbing one on his stick, he practiced his stickhandling through the pucks, doing his best not to hit any of them.
He wove his way back and forth, building speed as he began to feel more comfortable.
His hand had felt good throughout practice, and even now any lingering discomfort was barely noticeable.
He heard someone fall in behind him, but he ignored them. After he came out the other side, he turned and saw Ollie, Bailey, Matty, Victor, Emīls, and Carter had all gathered around the center circle.
Jamie felt a wave of pride. “Go on then,” he said, pointing his stick to a few loose pucks at the edges. “Grab a puck and follow along.” He looked down the ice, and saw Anders and Onni still running drills in the crease. “Maybe we can rope in a goalie to stick around.”
After stickhandling, Jamie had them skate the full length of the ice and take shots against Onni, who’d been thrilled to get the extra reps in net.
“Might as well wear a sign telling Onni where you’re going to shoot!” Jamie shouted at Matty, who’d telegraphed his shot, making it an easy save for the rookie goalie.
When it was Jamie’s turn, he challenged himself to push faster, to pick up his feet.
He managed a hard fake on Onni, but the young goalie still managed to snatch the puck from the air.
“Now, that was pretty,” Jamie said, tapping Onni on the pads with his stick as he skated by. “You earned that one.”
Eventually, the guys’ play started to get sloppy, and Jamie knew it was time to wrap it up. They gathered the pucks, and Jamie made sure to compliment everyone who’d stuck around, tapping pads and gloves as they walked toward the locker room.
“Sully!”
Jamie glanced over, finding Coach Hollister sitting alone in the stands. “Hey, Coach.”
“Got a minute?”
Jamie nodded. Coach met him in the hallway, wearing his usual head-to-toe Muskies sweats. He looked out at the ice, his hands in his pockets with a pensive frown on his face.
Jamie waited, catching his breath. He’d been around Coach long enough to know he would talk when he was ready.
“They haven’t done that while you’ve been gone,” he said, nodding his chin toward the ice. “Sometimes Onni would stay, but the rest of them?” He looked at Jamie. “You inspire them.”
Jamie exhaled. “I’m trying,” he said. “I know I haven’t been as good as Sharpie this year, but I’m trying to lead them.”
“The truth is, Sully–and I don’t want you to take this the wrong way–a lot of them are better than you.
On paper, at least a third of the guys on this team have more skill than you’ve ever had.
But you have something intangible. You’re our second line center because you take what talent and skill you do have, and you match it with hard work.
Real, gritty, hard work and determination.
These guys see that. You show them the things that matter beyond the skills, beyond the shit you can get good at alone in your garage.
You model work ethic. The willingness to keep striving.
You teach them to not settle for “good enough.” To have integrity.
You show them what it really means to be a pro.
What it means to be a good teammate and a leader. ”
Jamie opened his mouth to protest, but Coach cut him off. “That doesn’t mean do more, Sully. You already do enough. Keep showing up and doing the things you’ve always done. Do your job on the ice, and everything else will fall into place. Just you being here makes the whole team better.”
Shifting his stick from one hand to the other, Jamie tried tugging at his hair but his helmet was in the way, and his bulky glove kept him from getting a good grip. Dammit.
“Thanks, Coach,” he managed. “I…I think I needed to hear that.”
Coach Hollister nodded, clapping him on the shoulder pad. “Nothing wrong with needing a reminder every now and then.” He raised his graying brows at Jamie. “I don’t want to see any more of that garbage you were doing on the ice at the beginning of the year, got it?”
Jamie snorted. “Got it.”
“Now get your ass out of here. I want to go home.”
“Yes, Coach.”
Jamie plodded down the quiet hall toward the locker room.
After he cleaned up, he’d head home, and finish the last of the gift wrapping.
Early Christmas morning, he’d drive up to see his dad and step-mom.
Every year they made waffles and opened presents at their house before a big lunch with extended family.
Jamie didn’t get to see his dad very much during the season, and looked forward to Christmas with their family every year.
This year, though, Jamie caught himself wondering when he’d be back in Madison. Maybe, if he got back early enough, he’d get to spend some time that evening with Tyler and Rowan.
As he walked into the locker room and joined the guys stripping off their gear, he had an idea. He looked around until he found who he was looking for. “Oi, Cheerios!”
Ollie and Onni looked up at the same time from where they were sitting side by side in their base layers. It was almost creepy, the way they moved in perfect unison.
“Mind helping me with something tomorrow?”
Oliver tilted his head, sweaty brown hair flopping onto his forehead. “Will there be snacks?”
Jamie rolled his eyes, huffing out a laugh. “Yes. I’ll make sure to provide snacks.”