Chapter 5
Ghosts to Lay to Rest
Justin
The buzzer sounded, marking the end of the third period. Game four, first round, playoffs. The Blaze had just been swept, and here in our arena the crowd was shocked silent.
The postseason was over for us. I dropped my head and almost clocked myself with my cast while trying to scrub my face.
Nothing I could do to help with this season.
The broken hand was a result of repressed anger, and I had to make sure I didn’t do anything that stupid again.
I hadn’t just hurt myself, but the whole team.
If I had been on the ice in the last game of the regular season, I’d have been playing with Cooper and he might not have hit the boards and broken his leg.
I could take the blame for our top defense pairing being out of play, watching the game in the team’s box.
But the flu that had decimated the forward lines wasn’t on me.
Still, for the second year in a row, the Blaze were eliminated, this time in April, not June. The last time was me as well—
“JJ!”
I jerked. Cooper dropped into the seat beside me. He’d been talking to some of the management guys in the back of the team box and somehow hobbled over on his crutches without me noticing.
“Sorry. Up in my head.” Was that better than shoving everything down? According to my team-assigned therapist, almost anything was.
Cooper leaned his crutches on the seat beside him. “That’s what I want to talk to you about.”
“I’m working on it, I swear.”
He nodded but his gaze was on the ice. No one lingered. The winners were celebrating in the visitors’ locker room. Our teammates had escaped as soon as possible, and fans were exiting the building as quickly as they could.
“Next year is going to be different,” Coop said to the empty ice. He’d said that last year too, but a lot of things were out of his control.
“It will. I’ve promised Jess, and the team is up my ass. I have to report in regularly. I’m talking to a therapist they lined up. Next year I won’t do anything stupid.”
He turned to me, and this was it. Coop hadn’t gotten on my case about punching Alek yet, but there’d been a lot going on, including my grandmother’s death.
“I understand why you’d be pissed that Alek was dating your sister behind your back.”
I rubbed my left hand through my hair. It was probably standing on end, since I was overdue for a cut.
Coop’s hand twitched, as if he barely stopped himself from straightening it.
“It wasn’t just that.” I paused, choosing my words.
“It’s not his fault what his parents did, but the name brings it all back, you know? And it wasn’t just that we lost money.”
He nodded slowly. “I thought there must be more.”
I gave him the short version of what happened: losing all our money, skipping university, breaking up with my girlfriend.
Cooper’s brow furrowed. “That’s a lot.”
“The Sharleen debacle had its roots in that too.” My New York marriage and scandal page divorce was no secret.
Cooper shifted in his seat to look at me straight on. “But you’re okay with Jess and Alek together now?”
I dropped my head back, staring upward. “I’m working on it. Jess is happy, so I have to stop being an ass.”
“Yeah, you do. We need you next season. But not the guy who clocked his teammate in practice.”
My fists tried to clench and the right one twinged. “I’ve buried a lot of shit for years and thought I was good. Apparently that’s not healthy, and neither Jess nor the team are going to let me avoid dealing with it.”
“That’s what I need to hear. I’m making plans, and you’re part of them.”
Cooper was the best friend I had, outside of my twin. But I needed to hear what he had in mind before I committed myself. He was a natural leader and charmer. I was quiet, happy to be out of the spotlight. We complemented each other, but we were very different.
Coop steepled his hands together. “I’ve talked to management.
This team has a solid core. Last season, making the finals proved that.
This year, we kept that core together and it was bad luck that ended our playoff run tonight.
Ducky’s injury, my leg, the fucking flu wiping everyone out.
I want another season with this group to go all the way. ”
Management were running a business. They couldn’t afford sentimentality, and the fans would want to see something in the fall to make them believe next season would be different.
Cooper looked over his shoulder at the suits in the back. “I’m setting up a two-week retreat for the team.”
I blinked. “What?”
“I’m pulling in all the favors I can, from the team, friends, sponsors, all the people I know who work with athletes. We’re going to get the best in training, nutrition, and mental health. Plus, the retreat will give us a chance to bond. We’re going to make next season the one we get the Cup.”
“When?” Right now guys would want to head home, wherever around the globe that might be, and lick their wounds before considering next year.
“July. It’s not going to be easy getting everyone together, but I’ll do whatever I can.”
“Are they keeping the team together?” After this embarrassing sweep I’d been expecting changes.
“They’re considering it. They’ve got till the draft at the end of June and free agency July first to decide. But I have to make sure I’ve got the best case to support my pitch. And part of that is making sure the team’s workhorse isn’t going to flip out again.”
I let out a long breath. I’d promised Jess, and Cooper wanted a similar guarantee. The team was watching me closely. I would do whatever they asked to make up for my mistakes.
“According to this guy I’m talking to, I need to face the things I’ve been avoiding. Jess and I need to go through what my grandmother left in the house. That’s going to bring up some of my past. I’ll talk to my parents, and maybe my ex.”
“Sharleen?”
Not my ex-wife. “Mia.”
“Mia?”
I nodded. “The one I broke up with before going to New York.”
With the time I’d had to fill since I broke my hand, I’d focused on what had gone wrong in my life. Ugly feelings I thought were long buried had surged out and propelled my fist into Alek’s face—or helmet.
There wasn’t a lot I counted on in my life, but in hockey I’d found a place I belonged.
Where I was valued by my teammates and they’d put up with me even when I was a moody fucker.
I wanted to win the Cup. I wanted to be a part of hockey even after I was done playing.
I needed to do well enough next year that I wouldn’t be forever known as the guy who punched a teammate at practice.
“If I can do anything, you know I’m here,” Cooper said.
“That goes both ways.”
“Management says they’re waiting for reports on your recovery before they make decisions for next year.”
“I’ll be out of the cast by the draft and free agency.” The cast would be coming off just before the end of June when those things would happen. I tilted it, already looking dingy from the mass of ink covering the surface. The whole team had signed it.
“They’ll be planning before then.” He huffed a breath.
“I have some pull, but my broken leg and your hand leaves a lot of ifs for them. Just, do whatever you can to make them happy. Our bones will heal. But right now your head is the biggest hurdle I’m facing in my arguments to keep the team together. ”
“I promise. I’ll do whatever I can.”
“Thanks. I trust you. I want what’s best for you, you know? And if something is bothering you, get it out. Release the poison. Be healthy, mind and body. Despite how I sound, that’s more important at the end of the day.”
“But winning the Cup might be the best medicine.”
He grinned back at me. “I totally agree.”
“Thanks for doing this.”
“Not a problem,” Fitch said from the driver’s seat of the rental car he’d picked up at the Vancouver airport. “If I hadn’t, the team would have sent a babysitter with you, and that might have led to punching someone again.”
They’d wanted to send an aide to the condo to help me out or keep an eye on me after a minor accident with a bread knife.
I checked the bandage on my left wrist. There was no bleeding, so the stitches were holding.
It was a simple accident. Well, not so simple since it was difficult to figure out how I’d managed to slip the knife down to my wrist, but it was an accident, not a call for help.
It certainly didn’t mean I needed round-the-clock babysitting.
I’d managed to avoid the aide in Toronto because I’d been about to fly out. But the team was hiring someone to come every day to Grandma’s house while I was there. If I hadn’t promised Cooper I’d do whatever the team asked to help his plan succeed, I’d have fought against it.
Still, Fitch was going above and beyond to get me to PoCo.
He was spending most of his offseason in California.
He’d promised to stay a couple of days till the team got their person arranged and then was heading south to see his family.
Until we both had to return to Toronto for Cooper’s camp in July.
“I appreciate it.” Between baring my soul to the therapist and having eyes on me every day, I was going to be hitting my tolerance limits for sociability.
Fitch took the turn the GPS requested. “I’m not in a hurry to get to California.”
“Because of the playoffs?”
Fitch rolled his neck. “That doesn’t help. But since I’ve never won the Cup, I’m used to that.”
I nodded, not sure if he wanted to talk about his real reason. I didn’t like to talk about myself, so I assumed other people didn’t either.
“It’ll be nice to see my family, of course,” he said, making another turn. We were getting closer—I recognized this Tim Horton’s.
Fitch had been traded in from Edmonton last offseason. Next to Cooper, he was as close to me as any of my teammates. We were both from the West Coast, both divorced, no kids. I still didn’t know him that well. Except that his family was obviously different than mine.