Chapter 9 Lukas
nine
Lukas
“Man on, man on!”
I hear the shouts from my defence partner and the slicing of skates into the ice coming hard and fast behind me. Dishing the puck off to Smitty, I brace for impact.
The glass rattles hard, and the shaft of a stick digs into my side where there’s no protection.
Fucking Evans. I don’t even have to look.
“It’s a practice, asshole. Save the stick work for the actual games. Preferably the other team.”
Pushing my helmet back into place, I step around him to skate back into position. He slashes at my ankles but fails to bring me down. Doesn’t he know this is not what you should do in a practice when we’re still trying to sort out who gets cut?
“Just keeping you on your toes. You’re slow as fuck, Piney. Why are you even here?”
Of course he doesn’t allow me to answer that and skates past me, leaving me in his wake.
Coach signals for me to come off and adds a new defenceman to play with Smitty.
“See me in my office after practice,” Coach Nix says as he taps my shoulder, and I nod to acknowledge.
“He’s not doing cuts already, is he?” Youngblood, eyes wide with fear, pleads with me to say no.
“I don’t think so. We still have another week before preseason even starts. You’re safe, don’t worry.”
“You should be, too, though, Piney. That guy is an asshole. You’re the one who keeps us in line and our spirits up.”
“Youngblood, Badger, Soup! Get out there!”
Another line change-up, and the guys scramble to do as they’re told and shift on the fly as players come off.
“Piney, you pair with Burnsy next shift.”
I’ve been through this for twelve seasons at this level.
I know Coach is making notes and might very well be sending someone home today, but I didn’t want to tell Youngblood that.
He’s got potential, and he needs to use his joy of the game to fuel him.
There’s no need for him to worry just yet about whether he’s sticking around.
The current defence pair is approaching the bench for a change. My partner and I do a seamless shift, with each of us claiming our positions as our team forwards enter the offensive zone. Burnsy has been in the league for a few years now, all of them with the Aspens.
His pass to me is crisp and right on the tape. The wingers are covered well, and our third forward is battling to stay in front of the goalie. With no options to pass and a sudden opening in front of me, I draw back and slap the puck through the open seam, hoping for a good deflection.
It’s better than a deflection, though. The water bottle pops off the top of the net as the puck hits the twine, and my linemates throw their arms in the air to celebrate.
“Fuckin’ A, Piney! You still got it!”
Whistles sound, and the end of our ice time arrives. I’m smiling so big I’m afraid of reopening the cut on my chin. It feels good to score. Street hockey, a practice, an actual game—it’s always the same thrill of knowing you put the puck in the net. It never gets old.
In the locker room, Smitty sits next to me as we dress after our showers.
We have time to socialize during our dinner service before another team meeting tonight, and I noticed Coach tapping on a few other players’ shoulders today.
As much as I want to be alone, I could use some company to take my mind off what the news might be.
“Great shot, Piney! What a rocket!”
Smitty dries his hair with a towel and tosses it into the laundry bin.
“I hear dinner is chicken parm tonight. Want me to save you a seat?”
Coach walks through the locker room then. Our gazes meet, and he tilts his head towards the door.
“Yeah, if you don’t mind. I have to make a call and see Landon real quick, then I’ll join you.”
I quickly finish dressing in the team-branded sweats and exit the locker room, heading left to Coach’s office. When he notices me at the doorway, he motions for me to come in, and I close the door behind me.
“Hey, Coach.”
He laughs softly. “Relax, Lukas. This isn’t a bad meeting, so let the stress go. You’re not cut.”
“Ohthankgod.” My shoulders sag with a whoosh of breath.
“Sorry to have kept you worried. It wasn’t my intention.”
“It’s okay. It’s just, well… you know I’m probably in my last year, and I really want to play. So if it’s bad news, I’m not prepared for it.”
“I’ve noticed how you’ve taken the younger players under your wing. Youngblood and Smitty gel well with you, and you’re a good example, Lukas. So, no, I don’t want to send you home. Quite the opposite.”
Coach leans on his desk across from me with a warm smile.
“I don’t think you’ve ever had the chance to be a leader, have you?”
“In what way?”
“Of a team, Lukas. Has anyone ever let you speak up?”
“Um…I…well, I do when asked.” I’m not sure what Coach is getting at. I talk all the time in the locker room and on the bench. I’m always vocal about things for the team.
“Okay, here’s the deal, Lukas. This team is getting a facelift all over, right?
They’re doing massive ticket drives, they’ve created a mascot, and they made player and coaching decisions in the offseason.
One was to bring you here. One ultimately brought me here. We’re all striving to make changes.”
“Yeah. There’s a booster club event or something happening Saturday. I’ve never done anything like that.”
“Well, get used to it. Team captains are expected at these kinds of things.”
Coach is smiling, and I’m not sure why. It’s taking me too long to process his words. When I do, I need to grab the back of the chair when my knees wobble.
“Team Captain? Me?”
He laughs at my shock.
“Yes, you. You’re a natural leader, Lukas. The others look up to you, and you’re always helpful but firm. You control the plays without realizing it. You only ever fight when it’s necessary and you have a good head for the game. You should wear the C.”
I’ve never been offered such a role on a team before, and my tongue seems to be tied.
Some men wouldn’t want it, but to me, it’s the honour that comes with it, and to know my coach thinks I have what it takes when my usual role is to throw weight around and fire punches more than pucks? Hell, I’m almost in tears.
Coach offers his hand to me.
“You deserve it, Lukas. Congratulations.”
Taking his hand, I grip it tightly.
“Thank you for believing in me. I’m…I really am speechless, Coach. This is the next best thing to winning the cup, you know? But is management okay with this decision?”
Coach tilts his head.
“Why do you ask that?”
“I’m not a star forward. I use my size and fight more than anything. Not exactly captain material and the face of the team.”
Coach smiles again. He reminds me of a dad speaking patiently to a toddler.
“Lukas…you’re more than that. You have the stats to back it up.
You have enough ice time under your belt.
Just because you fight when we need some old-school hockey doesn’t mean you’re not qualified to guide a team on the ice.
” He steps forward and squeezes my shoulder.
“Management brought you here because they believe in you, and so do I.”
Coach sounds convincing, but it’s been a long time since anyone has believed in me like this. Maybe even ever.
“I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t. Now go eat, and I’ll introduce you formally at the team meeting.”
I leave Coach’s office with a renewed pep in my step and optimism for the year. I’m so excited I could burst.
And I want to celebrate this, so I text the man I think of most often these days.
Lukas: Are you up for celebrating with me tonight?
“Yo, Piney! I saved you a seat!”
Smitty waves across the room at me, and I wave back as I get my plate from the buffet station and load up. As I settle across from him, he leans over the table with a grin.
“The talk is you were in Coach’s office after practice and you mighta been talking about the alphabet.”
I laugh at Smitty’s attempt at code words and shovel food into my mouth to evade the question.
“Okay. I get it. Lips are sealed. That’s fine.” He leans forward again. “I’m gonna make a call before the meeting, but I hope I see you later.”
He smiles, hoping I’ll bite, and I shake my head. “I’ll save you a seat, Smitty.”
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and while I finish eating, I fish the phone from my pants, and all the breath exits my lungs.
Ben: Is celebrating code for more fucking? If yes, sign me up.
Lukas: I’m home early tonight. My place or yours?
Ben: Smooth. I’ll come to yours when I’m done here. It’s probably time I saw where you live. Text me your address. Around 8-ish?
Lukas: Works for me.
Shoving my phone in my pocket, I dig into the amazing dinner the team provided. The rest of this training day can’t be over soon enough.
Still riding high after earning the title of Captain for the Bloomburg Aspens, I pop the tab on a new beer and laugh.
I’m the captain, and while it doesn’t come with a raise or anything, it sure as hell comes with expectations and visibility. I’m up for the challenge of both, and I can’t wait to tell Ben.
All these years I’ve been chasing a championship, but maybe this is what I needed instead. The acknowledgement that I have something in me that a team desires. I’d never thought about it that way before.
With a glance at the clock, my heart rate jumps when I notice it’s almost 8 P.M. and Ben should be here soon. My libido also jumps because I’m suddenly hot all over and craving his taste so much, I put the beer down.
We’ve only had one official date, and while he revealed he’s the team mascot against the rules of his contract, that part made me respect him more. He’s honest from the start, and that goes a long way in my book.
A small knock sounds at the door, and I practically sprint to it. Ripping it open, Ben stands there with wide eyes and looking like the bite-sized snack he is.
His lips tilt into a crafty little grin. “Do you always rip the door off the hinges when you answer it?”
“I do when I’ve been waiting for the person on the other side.”