Chapter 28
WARD
W ard needed to unwind. He’d been spending way too much time in his head lately, and if there was one lesson he’d learned in therapy, it was that the worst thing in the world for him was having to deal with all the clutter in his head.
His muscles ached and he knew it was because he’d been weaning himself off the painkillers. The smart thing for him would have been to go to a professional to deal with his problem, but both he and Johnny had decided if word got out that he had an inkling of a drug problem too, his career would be over for sure.
Do not mess this up . . .
Shelley was doing a great job with him though. She pushed him when it was called for and backed off when she sensed he needed some room.
‘You’re lucky you were smart enough to know you couldn’t handle this on your own,’ she’d told him. ‘Some people think they have things under control, and before they know it, they’re on the edge of falling through the cracks and ruining their lives. You had enough sense to know you needed help – and then showed you were really smart by coming to me.’
One of the other things she’d taught Ward was when he was feeling caged in, he needed to get out and get some fresh air.
‘Take a walk. The worst thing you can do is stay home and spend time with your thoughts. That’s when people are at their weakest. That’s when things start to go wrong for them.’
So now, Ward found himself wandering along the city streets past midnight. It was a clear evening and there seemed to be even more stars out than usual. He moved at a solid pace, just wanting to burn off that restless energy, needing to be out in the open.
After about ten minutes though, he realized he had no idea where he was. Although he hadn’t taken any turns and had simply gone straight ahead, now he was in a part of the city he wasn’t so familiar with. The buildings around him were empty and trashed, and there were all kinds of shadows moving in the alleys and narrow spaces between structures.
He turned around to head back home but when he looked, the sidewalk was gone – replaced by a dirt path into some woods. His heart pounded.
What the hell was happening to him? Had he already done damage to himself with the pain pills? Was his grasp on reality slipping?
He started to run, then. No destination in mind. All he knew was he needed to keep going, needed to break free from whatever was invading his mind.
He was terrified.
He ran along the sidewalk ahead of him but that suddenly twisted down an alley and when he tried to stop, he couldn’t. His feet propelled him ahead and he shot all the way down, slamming into total darkness.
‘You’re a failure,’ came a voice – cold, dark, relentless. ‘You’re nothing. Your new fans will soon find out that you’re weak and insignificant. You’ll never be one of the great ones – and that means you’ll soon be forgotten. It’ll be as if you’d never existed.’
Something grabbed him, then. Something cold and filled with a hatred so powerful that Ward cried out in terror – before snapping awake in bed.
Nightmares were common when weaning from painkillers, Shelley had told him. The brain did all kinds of weird stuff.
‘Sometimes the dreams are so bad that people would rather take the drugs instead of dealing with whatever boogeymen their minds conjure up. You got to be on your guard all the time, Ward – because you might find yourself backsliding without even knowing it’s happening.’
He got out of bed, went into the bathroom and flicked on the light, staring at his reflection in the mirror for a moment. Then he splashed cold water on his face and towelled off, trying to gather his wits about him.
As he climbed back into bed, he thought again about what the voice had said and a wave of fear went through him.
They’ll soon find out that you’re weak and insignificant. You’ll never be one of the greats . . .
Ward burrowed beneath the covers, wishing he wasn’t so certain the voice was speaking the truth.
After he’d woken from the nightmare, he hadn’t been able to get back to sleep. He’d tried to distract himself by watching a middle-of-the-night marathon rerun session of Murder She Wrote on the TV situated above his bed, but even J.B. Fletcher’s sharp-witted shenanigans hadn’t been enough to distract him from the memory of the dream.
You’ll never be one of the greats . . .
It was true, of course – Ward McKenzie would never be known as a truly great hockey player. He was a solid centre and a battler, for sure, but he’d always wanted to be more. In truth, his entire life was spent in pursuit of being better – more athletic, more popular, having more girlfriends. From his first week of college, all the way through his professional career, he’d made a point of trying to do what he thought people expected him to do. Be better.
Being regarded as a womaniser was something he used to take pride in because it gave him kudos. Of course, the girls he got with knew how to play the game too. They weren’t looking for anything serious – they were just in it for the fun and the clout of bagging a pro athlete. At one time, that was enough for Ward, too.
Now getting up, he groaned and reached for his phone to check the time. Pawing around for a bit and not finding the small flip device his hands were so accustomed to, he suddenly remembered the shiny new thing. And groaned again, realizing that his newfound influx of followers and associated attention must have been the trigger for the dream. Great. As if his ego wasn’t frail enough, now it was already falling into the validation-from-strangers trap too.
Or worse, performance anxiety stemming from his growing ease with Hannah?
Be better.
‘Shit.’ He had overslept, according to the phone it was almost ten – the exact time Shelley was scheduled for another training session.
Ward sat upright in bed and pulled on a t-shirt at the same moment he felt Pretzel brush against his leg. He shot her a dirty look. ‘And I suppose you want to be fed now, too? You could have at least woken me up.’
He quickly changed clothes and shuffled from his bedroom to the front door, the cat following in his wake.
‘Hold on, hold on, just a sec,’ he called before undoing the lock and throwing open the door. Sure enough, he found Shelley on the other side, tapping her foot impatiently.
‘Up late scrolling?’ she greeted, a sardonic smirk planted on her face.
Ward sighed and turned away from her, heading toward the kitchen.
‘I’d like to pretend I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he retorted. ‘But to answer your question, no, I was not doing that. And I don’t intend to any time soon.’
‘We’ll see. An occasional jump down the rabbit hole can be relaxing as hell,’ she shrugged, nonplussed. ‘Anyway, congrats for going live on socials. Big move for you.’ She smiled. ‘That picture in the restaurant you posted. It was good.’
‘I don’t get how you even know this stuff. And I didn’t post anything,’ Ward said, going into his pantry to get Pretzel her breakfast. ‘That was Hannah.’
His thoughts drifted to the weekend and as much as he wanted to throw some snarky comment out at Shelley about the whole situation, he realized he couldn’t. The fact was, he’d had fun on Saturday – Hannah had a knack of making everything more appealing and, despite the pitfalls, he had to admit he was impressed by how fast his newfound digital fame had grown. Course, he would never admit that out loud – not to anyone.
Shelley duly finished setting up the mat and some other equipment on the floor of his living room. ‘I threw you a follow too, just so you know.’
‘So did, like, ten thousand other people it seems,’ he replied. ‘Social media is peak stupid. I seriously don’t know why anyone cares about what I have to say.’
The trainer rolled her eyes. ‘You don’t have to love it or spend your life on it. Just use it to your advantage.’
‘So should I follow you back or something?’
‘Your call. But since you’re now a blue ticker, you probably should maintain some level of exclusivity. You know, follow your teammates, coaches, other players, the team’s account and all that. Ward McKenzie’s not going to interact with just any Joe Blow.’
He made a face and handed Shelley his phone. ‘I’m also not an elitist jerk. Pull up your profile or handle or whatever the hell your corner of that crazy world is.’
She did and handed the device back to him.
‘Nice picture,’ he complimented, studying her profile and hitting the follow button. Then he frowned. ‘You have a kid?’
‘Yep, five years old. What, I don’t seem the maternal type to you?’
He looked flustered. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just surprised, that’s all, Johnny didn’t say.’
‘Why would he? But for the record, Zeke is why I do this stuff for guys like you. My baby’s my world.’
‘Sounds like you’re a great mom.’
God knows his own mother had never uttered those words about him, and somehow this added information gave him a whole new level of respect for Shelley. There was no guy in any of the photos so he could only assume she was a single mom.
He didn’t want to let her down. In much the same way he didn’t want to let Hannah down now either.
Ward shook his head and handed Shelley back the phone. Who the heck was this shiny touchy-feely version of himself all these new females in his life were turning him into?
‘Wow. So I’m Instagram official with WildCat McKenzie,’ she teased, throwing her dark ponytail playfully over one shoulder. ‘Though you really should take the time to make some more relevant connections too – like I said, with teammates and fellow professionals. Don’t think people won’t analyze who you’re following and why. Especially women. And judging by the number of message alerts you have, I’m willing to bet some puck bunnies have already slid into your DMs.’
Ward scoffed, then realizing she was being serious, looked back at the phone, clicking on the message icon.
‘Seriously?’ He briefly started scrolling and his eyes widened. ‘This is nuts. I don’t even know what to do with this. Why would girls put themselves out there like that to a total stranger – and before you say anything, I am a total stranger to these women. No matter how much they think they know me because they saw me on the ice.’ He quickly glanced at a photo of a blonde bombshell. ‘Although,’ he mumbled, flashing her a mischievous grin, ‘maybe this thing’s not so bad after all.’
‘Well, I’m no PR expert, but I can guarantee Hannah is not going to like it if you start responding to those messages – or even looking at the photos. They can tell if you’ve opened it, you know. Don’t go getting too click-happy.’
Ward grimaced and dropped the phone like it was a ticking time bomb. This was a whole new world for him and he still didn’t know how to feel about it. ‘OK. Will you just delete them for me or whatever without clicking on them? Or show me how to do it? When we’re done training.’
They both got down on the floor to start their session.
‘So have you decided what you’re going to post about?’ Shelley asked conversationally. ‘Some cat pics maybe?’ She was relishing having fun at his expense.
‘I am not posting about Pretzel.’ He glanced over to where she was now greedily gulping down her breakfast.
‘People love cat content though,’ she continued as he started a set of crunches. ‘Or actually, maybe sharing your training progress would be good? We could shoot something right now. I’ll stay off-camera and record some footage while you stretch and whatever. People would love to see that your head is back in the game. And that you’re working hard to get better – get back on the ice. Panthers fans especially.’
And maybe management too.
Grunting a final crunch, he considered her suggestion. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t done on camera before. And yeah, it would be good for his employers and teammates at least to know that he truly was taking all of this rehabilitation stuff, physical and otherwise, seriously.
‘I like it. Sounds “on brand”, as Hannah might say,’ Ward said with a wink, figuring she would surely approve.