31. Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-One
Kevin
This Monday’s morning skate is my favorite kind of practice — light, focused, nothing heavy. Just systems work and maintenance.
I hit the ice feeling good. Better than I have in weeks.
Sarah's at the rescue this morning — Mondays are her work-from-home days, so she went in early to grab paperwork.
Ranger's with her. And for the first time since Dave's call back in October, I'm not allowing my mind to be full of contract shit.
I made Sarah a promise at The Oasis. I'm going to move heaven and earth to make sure Austin knows the worst mistake in this team's history would be trading me.
Time to keep it.
"Looking good, Sunshine!" Liam calls out as I skate past him. He's stretching against the boards, looking surprisingly alert for this early. Unusual. No one will ever accuse Crash Callahan of being a morning person, so I’m not sure what kind of alternate universe I’ve entered. "You get laid last night or something?"
"None of your business, Crash."
"That's a yes." He takes a puck off the wall and tosses it in my direction. "Good for you, man."
Aiden skates over, stick across his knees. "We doing entry drills or you two gonna gossip like it's Wing Wednesday?"
"Can't it be both?" Liam asks. "After he and Sarah basically made out at the Oasis, I'm kind of invested in Sunshine's love life."
"No. Invest in us not getting our ass kicked by New York tomorrow.
Then you can play relationship counselor.
" Aiden skates off, but calls back to Crash without even looking back, "Not that anyone would want relationship advice from you, fucker.
You talk a big game for a guy who hasn't gotten laid since that girl from the bar in Calgary.
She wanted Sunshine and took you as sloppy seconds. "
Coach blows the whistle before Crash can defend his manhood. We line up for breakout drills—defensemen working on clean exits from our own zone, forwards timing their routes for stretch passes.
I pair up with Graham for the first rotation. He's solid, reliable, never flashy but always in position, and I love that I can always trust him not to chase the puck into bad situations.
"On your left," I call out, chipping the puck up the boards.
Graham picks it up clean, pivots, sends a hard pass to Tyler streaking up the middle. Momo takes it in stride, dekes around an imaginary defender, and snaps a shot that Josh has to stretch for in net.
"Nice try, Mo!" Josh calls from the crease.
We run it again. And again. My edges feel sharp, my passes crisp. Everything's clicking.
"St. Clair, Devocque — switch!" Coach calls. "Graham, take a breather."
Matty Devocque skates over, younger than me by a few years, up from the minors in San Antonio this year, hungry to prove himself. He's third-pairing but he's got good instincts.
"Let's go, Sunshine," he says, tapping my shin pads with his stick.
We run the drill. I chip the puck to Matty, and he makes the smart play — simple pass up the boards to Aiden. No flash, just solid defensive hockey.
"Good job, Devocque," Coach calls.
On the other side of the ice, I can see Liam working with the forwards on their own rush drills. He cuts hard to the middle, dangles through some traffic, and fires a no-look pass to Tyler for an easy one-timer that Josh barely gets a piece of.
Completely unnecessary. Absolutely vintage Crash.
Even from here, I can appreciate it. Liam's chaos, but damn it, he makes everyone else better when he turns it on. Forces us to think faster, react quicker, trust our instincts.
"Transition drill!" Coach shouts. "Three-on-two. Defense, stay disciplined. Forwards, create space."
I pair with Graham again. Tyler, Liam, and Aiden come at us three-on-two. Aiden's got the puck, Liam's flying up the left side, Tyler's trailing as the third man.
"Take Crash," Graham says quietly. "I've got Sticks."
I angle Liam toward the boards, cutting off his passing lane. He tries to go wide, but I stay with him, use my reach to poke the puck off his stick.
Graham picks it up clean, sends it back up ice.
"Nice job, Sunshine," Coach calls. "That's textbook gap control."
We run it fifteen more times. My legs are burning by the end. But it's the good kind of burn. It means I'm doing my job.
"Looking sharp out there, St. Clair," Aiden says as we skate toward the bench for a water break.
"Thanks, Cap."
He lowers his voice. "You figure out your contract situation yet?"
I glance around, make sure no one's listening. "Working on it."
"Good. Because we need you here. I need you here." He squirts the water bottle into his mouth. "Whatever it takes, man. This season's already special, you can feel it. I think next year is going to be something even more. Need you here for it."
The whistle blows. Back to work.
We finish with some power play and penalty kill work. I'm on the second PK unit, which means I'm killing time while the first unit runs through their systems. But Coach rotates me in for a few reps, working on our box formation and breakout timing.
"St. Clair, you're getting too aggressive on the puck carrier!" Coach Gagnon shouts. "Stay in your lane. Trust your partner."
He's right. I'm cheating toward the puck instead of protecting the middle. Bad habit when I'm overthinking.
I reset. Run it again. This time I hold my position, let Liam challenge the puck carrier while I take away the passing lane.
Better.
"That's it. I'm seeing the discipline I want to see."
Practice wraps about thirty minutes later. We're all sweating, breathing hard, feeling good about the work we put in.
"Good skate, boys," Aiden calls as we file off the ice. "New York tomorrow night. Let's get two points."
The locker room empties fast after practice. Guys peeling off gear, hitting the showers, making lunch plans.
I shower quick, then head to the gym. Need to work through this energy before I do anything stupid.
The gym's already got a few guys — Josh on the bike, Graham doing mobility stretches, Tyler attempting pull-ups with form that would make our strength coach cry.
I load up the bar for deadlifts. Start my first set.
"Well, look who beat me to the weights," Liam says, appearing next to me with a foam roller. He drops to the ground, starts working his quads.
"Someone has to lead the team to the Cup."
He deliberately won't look at me. "How's Sarah?"
I glance at him. Cheeky bastard. He's not looking at me, just focused on the roller.
"Good. We had the ultrasound Friday."
His hands still for a second. "Yeah? Everything okay?"
"Heard the heartbeat. 160 beats per minute."
Liam goes quiet. Keeps rolling but there's something off in the silence. The chirping stops. Just like that.
After a beat, he speaks. "So, when are you buying the ring?"
I nearly drop the bar. Rack it carefully. "What?"
"Ring, Sunshine." He looks up now with a grin that doesn't reach his eyes. "When are you buying it?"
"I… The contract situation—"
"Fuck the contract." He stands, tosses the roller aside. "Don't wait for perfect. Man, just don't wait."
I look over my shoulder, almost reflexively, to make sure Quinn hasn't come into the room for some reason.
Aiden walks over, towel around his neck. "We having a meeting?"
"Just telling Kevin to get his shit together and buy some jewelry," Liam says.
"About time." Aiden leans against the squat rack. "You told Sarah you'd move heaven and earth to keep Austin from trading you. So do it."
"I'm trying—" I think he's accusing me of something.
"Are you?" Aiden crosses his arms. "Or are you waiting for someone else to fix it?"
He's definitely accusing me. "I can't just walk into Carl's office—"
"Why not?" Liam asks. "What's stopping you?"
"It doesn't work like that."
"It works however you make it work," Aiden says. "You need to say whatever needs to be said. To whoever needs to hear it."
Liam snorts. "Yeah, Sticks. Real good at taking your own advice there."
The temperature in the room drops about ten degrees.
Aiden's jaw tightens. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing." Liam's already walking toward the weights. "Absolutely nothing."
I look between them. Something's there. Something neither of them is saying. And neither of these fuckers are going to take their own advice and say it out loud.
Aiden turns back to me. "Look, I'm not implying I have all the answers.
But I know what it looks like when a guy lets opportunities pass because he's waiting for the right moment.
The right moment is now, Kevin. I told you I need you here next season, but Sarah needs you here more. Your kid needs it. Make it happen."
Across the gym, Josh stops pedaling.
We all turn to look at him. He's just sitting there on the bike, hands on the handlebars, staring at nothing.
Then he gets off. Walks over.
"You love her?" Josh asks me, more serious than I’ve ever heard him — and I once shared a room with him on a road trip while he filed some amendment to his income taxes.
There's only one answer to the question, and while I don't quite know what's going on here, I do know the answer. "Yes."
"Want to marry her?"
"Yes."
"Then what are you waiting for?"
I really feel like a room full of guys who live and die by contracts and trades and all the exact same things I do should understand what I've got going on. "The contract—"
"Isn't an excuse." Josh looks me dead in the eye. "Taylor was healthy. Perfect health. One morning she had a headache. Six hours later she was gone. Brain aneurysm."
The gym goes completely silent.
"I don't do this," Josh continues. "I don’t give advice.
When have you ever heard me share my shit?
But you guys already know most of it. And this…
Sunshine, you need to hear it." He steps closer.
"I had plans. We were going to have more kids. Buy a house. Have a life after hockey. Then one Tuesday she took a nap while Landrie slept and she just didn’t wake up. Every single plan I made? Gone."
My throat's tight. We all know Josh lost his wife. But he never talks about it.