Chapter 30 #2
Fortunately, Avery got us back on the rails and moving in a different direction.
“So how was Coach after the game?” He grimaced again. “He must’ve been thrilled.”
I made a face, though I was relieved at the new subject even if tonight’s performance made me cringe. “Ugh. I swear that’s the worst part of losing—the disappointed coach speech afterward, and you were right about how awful it is from this coach.”
He laughed. “That bad, eh?”
“And this was the third loss in a row, so…” I exhaled.
Avery frowned, his expression full of both worry and guilt, and I didn’t need to be mind reader to know where his thoughts were going.
“Don’t put this on your shoulders,” I said softly.
He looked at the camera again. Then he laughed. “Why am I not surprised you can see right through me?”
“Nah.” I shook my head. “I’d probably be feeling the same way.”
His eyebrows flicked up. “Really?”
“Well, yeah. You’re not the only one who feels like he’s letting the whole team down when he’s benched. Every time I’ve been out and my team has lost, I’ve beaten myself up over it for days after.”
“But there’s eighteen skaters on,” he said. “Even if you go down in the middle of the game, that leaves seventeen to get the job done. It’s not on you.”
I inclined my head and arched an eyebrow.
He held my gaze. Then he chuckled. “Okay, okay. Point taken.” Sighing as his smile fell, he sat back.
“I really want to get back out there. Not because I feel like I need to take charge and get the team back on track—I just miss it. Even the losses, you know? I’d rather play a losing game than not play at all. ”
“I know exactly what you mean.”
He shifted a little, as if he were as restless as me.
Being a hockey player, he probably was that restless.
“I thought going to therapy and dealing with all that shit would be the worst part. And that part’s hard, don’t get me wrong.
But not playing hockey?” His shoulders sagged.
“It fucking sucks. Even when I can still practice a little. Especially when the team is struggling and there’s nothing I can do to help. ”
“You’ve been helping. Coming to games, practicing with the guys—it helps keep everyone’s spirits up more than you probably realize.”
“But tonight…” His expression turned pained.
“You know damn well we could’ve lost catastrophically with you, too. It wasn’t your absence that lost tonight—it was us falling apart.”
“Still.”
“Look, I know you’re having a tough time, but don’t shoulder this too.
And you’ll be back playing hockey again before you know it, and we’ll be glad to have you.
But the most important thing right now is taking care of you.
The team? We can hold the line.” I paused.
“Well, most of the time, but losing streaks happen even when players aren’t missing, so… ”
He laughed. “Yeah, they do. God, that one we had last season?” He rolled his eyes and groaned. “Thank God Vegas had that fourteen-game losing streak, or we’d have had the biggest one for the season.”
“I remember that. What was it, twelve games?”
Rolling his eyes, he nodded. “Twelve very long and frustrating games, yeah.” He grinned. “And yet you still signed with us, you fucking masochist.”
I snorted. “Not like I had much choice. And anyway, I seem to recall you guys also had a couple of solid winning streaks last year, so I’ll take my chances.”
“Fair enough. Detroit held their own last year, too, didn’t they?”
“We did. If I’d stayed, I think I’d have been happy, but it probably was time for a change of scenery.”
“I know how that goes.”
I eyed him. “Says the guy who’s still with the same team that drafted him.”
“Yeah, but I was seriously considering leaving after my entry-level contract was up. I liked the team, but the coaching was…” He wrinkled his nose.
“Ooh, that’s right. You guys had John Robinson, didn’t you?”
He rolled his eyes and groaned. “God, I hated that guy.”
“Really? Was he actually as bad as people say?”
“He…” Avery quirked his lips. “I mean, there are definitely worse coaches out there. There was one in my division in major juniors who was a real piece of work. Robs? He was just… He was one of those old-school coaches who was old school for the sake of being old school.”
“Oh, Jesus.” I rolled my eyes. “So, an absolute hardass who thought everyone was getting too soft?”
“Exactly. He’d yell and scream because that’s what old-school coaches did, not because it was actually effective.
” Avery sighed. “The thing is, he was pretty good when it came to strategy, and his systems were good. If he’d chilled the fuck out a little, he’d have been fine.
But he was so determined to be a drill sergeant on ice skates that it was really fucking stressful. ”
“Ugh. Sounds like my U16 coach.”
“Yeah?”
“Yep. One of my buddies said that guy would probably go home and watch the boot camp scenes in Full Metal Jacket and beat off.”
The full-throated laugh that burst out of Avery made my hotel room tilt. Christ, I was so stupid for him, especially when he smiled.
“Oh my God,” he said, still laughing. “I bet Robs did the same thing.” He mimicked jerking off, and he scrunched up his face as he said, “Yeeaah, do the bit about steers and queers again. Fuck yeah.”
I laughed so hard I was cackling, and he did too.
It felt good, even if it was commiserating over (and making fun of) some awful past coaches.
As we settled again, I asked, “So you stayed because they brought in Coach Tabakov?”
Avery nodded. “I like his style and his systems. And I really wanted to stay because of—” His teeth snapped shut, and all the lingering amusement vanished from his expression. I wasn’t at all surprised when he whispered, “Because I liked playing with Leif.”
“I believe that,” I said as gently as I could. “When you’re that close to a teammate, you’ll put up with a lot.”
“Exactly.” He met my gaze through the screen. “Did you have anyone you were close to like that?”
“I was pretty tight with Conrad Waverly. He was my roommate when I was a rookie, and we got to be really good friends.” The memory made my chest tight. “Fucking sucked when they traded him.”
“That’s the worst, isn’t it?” He winced at his own words, and once again, I didn’t need to be a mind reader—no, someone being traded definitely wasn’t the worst way two teammates could be separated.
“It sucks,” I acknowledged. “We’re still friends, and we always grab dinner when we’re in the same city.”
“That’s good,” he said, seeming to brighten a little.
“I’ve got some old teammates—both from the Whiskey Rebels and major juniors—who I see when we’re on the road.
” He paused, then laughed. “I swear, when we all retire, we should just form our own team of old crotchety-ass players who can’t be traded because fuck trades. ”
I laughed, too, relieved at the break in tension. “Love it. Like the only way someone can be traded is if he and the other player are in total agreement and want to be traded.”
“Exactly! We can all if the North American Because-Fuck-You-That’s-Why League.”
“Hmm, might have to workshop that one a little. Bit of a mouthful.”
He huffed and rolled his eyes. “It’s a great idea, damn it.”
“It is! But, you know, maybe tweak it so it rolls off the tongue better?”
The answer to that was a middle finger, and I laughed.
Right then, I glanced at the clock on the nightstand, and my heart sank. “Fuck. It’s late. I should get some sleep.”
Was that disappointment on his face, too?
“Yeah, I should probably sleep myself.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s almost two and I’ve got therapy first thing in the morning.”
“They make you show up in the morning?” I stuck out my tongue. “That’s just mean.”
I would seriously do or say anything to make this man laugh like that.
“It’s my choice, honestly,” he said, still smiling. “Get it all out of the way, and then I have the rest of the day to do whatever.”
“Okay, that’s fair.” I sighed. “Well, I might not have time to chat tomorrow night; we’re flying out right after the game, and then I have to try to sleep.”
“Ooh, that’s right—you guys have a back-to-back, don’t you?”
“Ugh. Yes.” I rolled my eyes. “Fucking hate back-to-backs on the road, but it’s not like they consult me about the schedule.”
“Those bastards.”
“I know, right?”
He chuckled. “Okay, I’ll let you go.” Turning a little bit serious, but still smiling, he said, “Thanks for chatting. It’s, um… It’s been really good.”
“It has for me, too. So… thanks for that.”
We locked eyes.
The moment threatened to get unbearably awkward, so we quickly wrapped it up and ended the call.
And just like I had the other times we’d talked on this trip, I lay there and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, trying to figure out what all I was feeling after talking to him.
I was no closer to making any sense of it than I’d been before. If anything, I was even more homesick than I was the first time we’d FaceTimed.
We still had two games to play on this trip. Three nights to sleep in hotels while I drove myself insane wanting to be back in Pittsburgh.
Wanting to be back in the same space as Avery.
Seriously. Is it time to go home yet?