Chapter 4
Chapter four
Reid
I get to the rink early, and when I see Luka out on the ice on his own practicing the drills, I can’t help but stand here and watch.
“Determined, isn’t he?” Coach Dennings asks, making me jump.
“He’s also reckless; those trick plays of his lost him the puck more times than they helped him to score.”
“His fresh moves are one of the things that we wanted to bring to the team.”
“You’re the bosses,” I reply, turning away from the rink for the first time since I started watching Luka.
“And you’re their captain. You lead them just as much, sometimes more than we do. So I’m making it your job to bring him up.”
“You’re what?”
“I want you to mentor Hart. Teach him what it really means to be here. What this NHL life is like.”
“Wouldn’t he be better paired with Kirkston or Folley? Another winger, at least?”
“Not up to the task, Reid?” he asks with a smirk.
“I know what you’re doing,” I reply, glancing back to where Luka’s talking with Henry Colt, our starting goalie.
“I have no idea what you mean,” Coach Dennings says, and then he walks away before I can try to convince him this plan is a bad idea.
Back when I first started with Philly, Dennings was an assistant coach, and he’s seen me grow from rookie year through to captaining the team.
He also knows that I don’t back down from a challenge, so if he wants me to mentor the rookie, I’ll mentor the rookie.
I had already planned to meet the kid again for breakfast today.
I hate to admit it, but he impressed me yesterday with his knowledge of nutrition.
Maybe he didn’t spend all his downtime at frat parties and hooking up with girls.
Looks like he at least attended a few classes.
Though I have no reason to think that is how he spent his time.
I probably would have, if I had gone to college.
Except for the girls part, of course. I wonder what else he studied.
I didn’t go to college, I jumped directly to the NHL.
Hockey was always going to be my future, but it wasn’t until my parents died that I stopped to think about what comes after.
Afterwards, every dollar I had went to keeping the house and supporting the boys.
Once those were taken care of, I hired an accountant and financial adviser to help manage the rest. So many young players don’t think about how short this career really can be.
Even if you don’t get injured, if you’re lucky you get a decade; a handful of players have two decades on the ice.
I might not know what I’ll do when this all ends, but I know I’ll have the financial freedom to figure it out.
Will Luka even listen to me if I try to tell him to be smart with his money?
I can’t say I would have listened at that age if I hadn’t been forced to think about more than myself.
I guess if I’m going to be his mentor, I’ll find out.
Plus, who knows, maybe by spending more time with him, I’ll be able to get him out of my head.
***
The first few days of camp were a good warm-up, but with a week to go, things are finally picking up the pace.
“Run it again,” I tell Luka as he glides back to position. “This time, try to stay in line with White.”
“I was in line with White that time,” he complains.
“You were behind, run it again,” I reply, folding my arms over my chest the best I can in my gear.
I get them to run through five more times before I’m satisfied he’s got it down.
“Great, that was perfect,” I say, and when he strips off his helmet, a wide smile on his lips highlighting his deep dimples, it brings that familiar swirl to my gut.
I had hoped that by spending more time with Luka, I’d be able to shake these feelings, and the thoughts that shouldn’t be circulating through my mind, like wondering how soft those perfect lips are, or how he tastes.
But if anything, it’s getting harder not to think about him.
Luka skates in figure eights over to the side where I’m standing. “You know, if White dropped the puck back, you could collect it and lob it over their defenseman up to me for a shot right by their net,” he says.
“That’s not the play,” I reply, straight-faced.
“But it could be,” he says, turning to White. “Don’t you think—“
“It’d be too risky,” I cut him off to say. “The puck could be stolen when White dropped it back, or when it’s sent up. Lobs are hard to control.”
“But if—“
“No. Just run it the way I said to run it. Got it?”
“Yes, Cap,” he replies and skates off to join the others taking practice shots on goal down the other end.
“You were a bit hard on the rook, don’t you think?” White says, skating to my side.
“He needs to learn to follow.”
“He’s trying to impress you.”
“By disregarding my instructions?”
“He just ran the same drill fifteen times exactly as you instructed. Seriously, ask anyone.”
“Ask them what?”
“About the rook. We all see it. The kid’s desperate for your approval.”
I have to admit, Luka has skills. If only he’d fall in line and stop with the risky shit.
It might pay off once in a while, but when a single goal can mean the end of your season and a shot at the cup, those risks just aren’t worth it.
If he starts the season thinking he can do whatever he wants out there on the ice, the whole team will pay the price, and I won’t let that happen.
“I guess I could give him a little more positive reinforcement.”
“That’s all I’m saying,” White replies, turning and skating backwards toward the rest of the team. “You coming, Cap?”
“Be there in a second,” I reply, and I stand there watching the team take turns to shoot on Colt.
Luka is up next. He comes up on Colt at half-speed.
Colt is set square; it looks like Luka’s going to go for a wide drive, but then Luka pulls the puck slightly inside.
Colt shifts his weight to his inside edge, then instead of continuing inside, Luka pushes the puck back outside, releasing almost immediately and lighting up the lamp a second later.
He immediately looks my way, and I give him an approving nod.
Even from this far away, I see his smile grow wider, and that same flurry hits my gut.
This kid is going to get me in trouble.
***
“We made grilled cheese,” Benji calls from the living room when I push through the door of our small three-bedroom home.
It was left to all three of us when our parents passed, and thanks to the money I’ve gotten from playing for Philly, we’ve been able to keep it.
I drop my phone and keys on the hall table and join my brothers in the living room.
They’ve got a platter covered in toasted sandwiches sitting on the coffee table beside a big pot of chili.
“Looks like that’s not all you cooked,” I say, and Benji laughs.
“You can thank yourself for that. It’s the batch you put in the freezer last week, we just reheated it. We can’t have grilled cheese without chili.”
“That’s true.”
David flicks the television onto the sports news and plonks down next to his brother on the couch.
To look at them, you wouldn’t guess they were brothers.
While Benji is almost six feet tall with the same golden-brown hair and dark brown eyes that I have, his jaw looks like it was chiseled from stone, and he’s all lean muscle.
David is the polar opposite. He’s just over five feet, and is the most ripped sixteen-year-old I think I’ve ever seen.
His hair is cut short like Benji’s, but he’s bleached his natural golden brown to white blond and throws in a colored streak every other month.
This month’s one is orange. They both have the same smile as Mom, though.
Actually, we all do. It’s nice seeing her reflected in them.
Sometimes I worry that I’ll forget what it was like to have parents.
Then one of these guys smiles at me, and I remember all over again what it was like to come home and see that same smile on my mother’s face.
She was always happy to see us. She used to say that we were the best part of her day.
Fuck I miss them.
I hear my name, and we turn our attention to the television. David grabs the remote and turns up the volume. On the screen is a panel of sports reporters, and they’re talking about me.
“This could be the last season for the captain, don’t you agree?” Perry Jenkins, the main host of Sports in Action, asks Mike, Lennox, and Gordon, who sit at the table with him. The screen behind them is showing a replay of both the highlights and low points of my career.
Mike is the first to answer.
“I don’t know, Perry. He’s brought home the cup for Philly three times in seven years, which would be a huge achievement for any player nearing retirement age.”
“I’m not that old,” I mumble under my breath as Mike shakes his head and continues.
“I just don’t think he’s done yet. What do you think, Lennox?”
“I agree, Mike. Reid Raines is everything a coach is looking for in a defenseman. He’s got strong gap control, and he reads the play and makes great decisions under pressure, which this team is going to need if they expect to make the finals this year.”
“That’s true,” Gordon chimes in with a smile that always seems forced.
Unlike the others on the panel, Gordon always looks like he’d rather be anywhere but at that table.
“Raines has really proven himself to be a consistent player and leader. I think we’ll see him on the ice for a few more years yet. ”
David turns the volume back down a little.
“See, Dad Bro, they still love you.”
“Three out of four of them, anyway,” Benji follows up with.
“I’m not even thirty yet. You’d think they’d be looking at Locks and Goon before me,” I say, and David laughs.
“You’ll be thirty in two months,” he says, and I grab a bowl and start scooping in spoonfuls of chili.
It’s rich in tomato and full of spice, just the way Dad used to make it.
It was the only thing I learned to cook from him before they died, and I made sure to teach both the boys so they’d always have something of him to pass along through to their own children and grandchildren one day, just like Mom’s spaghetti.
“And while we’re on the subject of my birthday, there will be no party, got it?” I tell them. Both turn their attention to their bowls.
“Sure,” David mumbles through chewing.
Benji follows with, “No party, no worries.” But both of them are terrible liars, and I can tell from their tones alone that they’re full of shit.
“Why is it I don’t believe you?” I ask, and they both shake their heads.
“Seriously, we haven’t planned anything,” David says this time, actually looking me right in the eyes. Maybe he isn’t lying about the party, but these two are definitely up to something. I guess I’ll find out in eight weeks.