Chapter Thirteen
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
MAX
Raising my stick in thanks to the crowd, I skate off the ice and begin walking down the lane into our home team dressing room. The roar of the arena follows me until the thick doors close behind the last of the team.
Sweat is pouring down my face, and taking off my helmet feels good for a brief second before I’m blinded. With an outstretched hand, one of the assistants throws a clean towel in my direction.
“Thanks, man,” I say in their general direction and head for my locker. That was a brutal game. We got the win, but it was a tense and physical overtime to get there. I can already tell tomorrow, my shoulder will be sore from all the hits I took.
Fucking Chicago always sends their goons after me. I humbly admit that I am one, if not the , best player on the Toronto Nighthawks and am used to players targeting and crowding me on the ice. For some godforsaken reason, Chicago seems to be the most aggressive. I always have to mentally prepare myself for these games. I can’t let these assholes get in my head.
Minkenov especially. He’s the definition of a slimy asshole and never plays a clean game. The public knows how much we hate each other. We don’t hide it and have gotten into some brutal fights on the ice.
Even off the ice, he’s the scum of the Earth. But I can’t let myself think about that right now.
Coach walks in, his black hair in disarray, shaking his head. Running a hand over his dark beard, he locks eyes with each player before moving on to the next. It’s a tense silence as we wait for him to say something.
“You all were a bunch of bobbleheads out there tonight! Watching the puck pass you and moving as fast as molasses! The only corn nut on this team actually paying attention was Sidney, and he was just sitting on his keister in net! You dummies got real lucky tonight.”
The rookie, still not used to having a coach who doesn’t swear and finds unique yet devastating names to call us, stifles his amusement with a towel. I catch his eye and give my head a tiny shake. If Coach doesn’t think we’re taking his comments seriously, we’ll pay for it. Either in the gym or during drills.
“Daws, get that shoulder checked out before you leave tonight. That scum bucket Minkenov got you good since you were in la-la land, and your puck handling was juvenile. Get it together, or get off the ice next time. Mason! What the ever-loving heck happened to your brain in the second period?”
Coach’s words fade into the background as I start to take off my gear. He’s right—I was distracted at the beginning of the game and not at my best. Too focused on Minkenov and his punchable face. My team and the Toronto fans deserved better than that.
The locker room slowly clears out. A couple of the boys along with Coach go off for the post-game press conference, and the rest of us slink away silently. No doubt thinking about the game and what we need to do better as the season progresses.
Oliver takes a quick look at my shoulder and tapes me up for additional support. I’ll have to ice it for the next twenty-four hours, but that’s nothing new. Some part of my body is always bruised or needing extra TLC.
As I’m leaving our team area and heading for the parking lot, Mason joins me. He doesn’t say anything at first, just walks step in step with me.
“You going out tonight with the boys?”
“No. I have that documentary series starting tomorrow. Need to go home and get my beauty sleep,” I jest.
“With that mug? You’d have to sleep a decade to be pretty, Daws.”
I elbow him in the side, causing him to dance away from me and walk at a distance.
“Shut up. I’m gorgeous, and you know it.”
Mason makes a quick gagging sound but chuckles and continues to walk with me.
“Can I grab a ride back to the apartment with you?”
I nod but send him a confused look. “I thought you and Jess were—”
“We broke up,” he says quickly. “Last night, actually. She wasn’t happy with how much I travel, and apparently, I don’t pay enough attention to her when I am around.”
“She is aware you’re a professional hockey player, right? Travel and training are part of the job.”
“Oh, she knows. My credit card statement lets me know she knows. But I guess the money wasn’t enough to keep her around.”
I lose my breath as we step into the cold and bracing night air. I stop walking. My bags are heavy, hanging off both shoulders, and the suit I’m wearing feels tight, but I push that physical discomfort away to address something more serious.
“Would you want to?”
Mason notices I’m not beside him anymore and turns.
“Want to what?”
“Keep her around? Knowing that one of the main reasons you’re together is because she likes your money.”
For a long moment, Mason doesn’t say anything, indecision on his face. Then with a big, long sigh, he shakes his head.
“No,” he says, defeat and a tiredness I can relate to in his voice. “No, I never liked knowing that was the reason she stayed around. It’s just…I thought we could make it work. It was nice to have someone to go home to and escape the pandemonium.”
We start walking again. The city buzzes with activity around us. There are shouts and blasting horns, music from a pub down the street. Yet, Mason and I stay quiet until we’re almost at my SUV.
“I guess I just thought I could save the relationship by moving in, and not even that gesture seemed to make her happy.”
“But were you happy, man?”
Looking over at my friend and teammate, I see the realization hit him. Even in the dim light of the parking lot, I see the blink of acknowledgment.
“No, I guess I wasn’t. Not really.” He yanks open the back passenger-side door and throws his bags in. I do the same on my side. When we’ve both settled in our seats, Mason starts fiddling with the seat warmer. “What about you? Are you happy?”
The question catches me off guard. As I pull out of my spot and maneuver out of the parking lot, I think over his question.
I am a happy guy. Not much gets to me, and if it does, I’m pretty good at communicating my feelings and shit like that. The only black spot on my consciousness was Sabrina, but that’s been resolved now too.
An image of Sabrina the last time I saw her comes to mind. Her legs tucked under her, relaxing on my sofa. She looked good. It was a side of her I so rarely see, and I’m hoping there are more moments like that to come in our future.
“I’m happy with the way the season is going. And I’m happy about the fact I have a pizza waiting back at the apartment with my name on it.”
“Seriously, Max. Do you think you’re happy?”
“Yeah, I am.” I pause, a smile spreading over my face as I picture the days to come. “But I think I’m about to be fucking ecstatic soon.”