Chapter 12
TWELVE
AUSTIN
“Listen up,” Coach Dunn said, then whistled when half the guys in the changing room failed to shut their mouths. It was a week after the night at the Navy Pier, and we were preparing for our first preseason game against Detroit. “Matthews is acting captain. Taylor and Harris are alternates.”
A lump settled in the pit of my gut. Perhaps I should be pleased to be named Alternate Captain for the game, but Matt had been given the C. Did that mean that he was currently Dunn’s top choice for the role?
Matt looked surprised, and he grinned when Jesse slapped him on the shoulder and made a quip about celebrating later with tequila.
I rolled my eyes and hissed, “No tequila for you.”
We all knew what happened when Jesse drank tequila. Or, at least, we’d heard stories. I really had no idea how he’d come to wake up buck-ass naked in the dean’s office of a nearby college, but I wasn’t sure I wanted to know either.
“Now, Detroit will come out hard.” Dunn’s voice pulled me from my musings.
“They’ll have heard about the changes within the team and will want to prove that they don’t matter.
I want you to hold steady on defense and let them wear themselves out for the first period, then we’ll ramp it up in the second. ”
There was a chorus of, “Yes, Coach.”
“Get changed and warm up.”
I turned to my locker and traced the outline of my name with my fingertip.
It was a home game, and I was curious to see how many people had turned up.
I also couldn’t help wondering how Jane was managing.
Today, she’d be standing with the other players’ partners in a personal capacity rather than a professional one.
I hoped the women—and lone man—would be welcoming.
I donned my gear, taped my stick, and made sure everything was in order. Once the others were also ready, we headed out into the stadium. I blinked as the lighting changed and squinted around at the seating. The stands weren’t full, but there was a better turnout than I’d expected.
Anxiety flitted through me. Had the spectators come to cheer us on or because they hoped we’d be as disastrously entertaining as usual?
We skated around the rink a few times, gathering speed as our muscles warmed, then we began to loosen up our bodies.
Coach Dunn called for us to start drills, and Nick, Jesse, and I grabbed a puck each and took turns shooting at the goalie, Mitch Davenport.
When he was properly warmed up, we started three-on-one drills.
Coach had us change drills. Pucks flew all over the place. I just hoped it didn’t look as chaotic to our audience as it did from the ice.
When the game began, Jesse faced off against Detroit’s center. He won the puck and passed it back to Matt.
It all went downhill from there. The game was a fucking catastrophe.
We held out for the first period against their onslaught—Coach had been right about them coming out hard and fast—and for a few minutes, I began to think maybe we could win this thing.
But then Jesse got wiped out by an opposing player and, as he limped off the ice, Drew let the guy responsible know exactly how mad he was with his fists and a litany of swear words.
Drew got a penalty.
Detroit slipped a puck past Davenport right before the end of the second period and then scored twice more in the final.
We lost 3-0.
The mood in the changing room was sour. It was almost like the fact that we’d held out so well in the first period made the loss of the second two that much more painful. I whipped off my top, dropped it on the floor, and lowered myself onto a bench, so I could unlace my skates.
One came off and then the other. I stripped off my socks, peeled down my pants, and was onto the underlayers when Coach Dunn called for our attention.
“Look alive, men,” he said, scanning the room, no doubt noting the scowls on our faces. “Don’t be so down on yourselves. Yeah, we lost, but it was only a preseason game, and it didn’t count for anything. This is the perfect time to lose, so we can learn and do better when it matters.”
Assistant Coach Willets entered behind him, holding a clipboard with several sheets of paper attached to it. “Let’s hear the positives. Coach Dunn and I will give you ours, and then we want to hear one positive thing and one thing you can work on from each of you.”
Groans echoed off the walls.
Dunn chuckled. “It won’t be that painful, I assure you. From what I can tell, you boys weren’t previously allowed to talk about anything important, but that isn’t happening under my watch. Provided you can speak with respect, then I’ll always want to hear what you have to say.”
“I’ll start,” Assistant Coach Willets said, tapping his pen against the top sheet of paper on his clipboard.
“You did exactly as we asked with maintaining a strong defense in the first period. There were moments when we could see how well you’ll work together once you have a little more practice as a team.
We also have a focus for our next game: figuring out how to move the puck up the ice. ”
A couple of players snorted. The forwards could choose to take his comment personally, but considering we hadn’t scored any goals, we didn’t have a leg to stand on.
We knew we could score because we’d done it before, but if we wanted to have any chance of improving our standing from last season, we’d have to get a whole lot better at working together.
“My turn,” Coach Dunn said. “Can we all put our hands together for Davenport? Yes, some goals got in, but there were a whole lot more he kept out.”
There was a smattering of applause.
“Your fitness was good.” He crossed his arms over his burly chest. “We need to coordinate better, but no one has let the team down in their willingness to put in the work. Harris, your turn.”
I felt the corner of my mouth lift, betraying how pleased I was to be the first person asked. “My positive is that I feel more in sync with my line mates than I did last year. My thing to work on is getting the puck past the opposition’s defense and into the goal.”
Dunn nodded. “Taylor?”
Taylor offered up his two comments, and we worked our way around the room one person at a time. No one was overlooked. I couldn’t say the mood was good by the end of it, but the angry muttering and tension had certainly diminished.
Dunn and Willets left us to finish changing, with a request for Matt to join them in fielding any questions from the press since he’d been the acting captain.
I couldn’t help but wonder whether the coaches had been impressed by him, and if another one of us would be tested in the role for the next game.
I finished undressing, showered, and donned clean clothes to leave.
Jane was waiting outside, along with the other players’ partners.
Taylor’s wife, Maribel, was beside Jane, with her son propped on her lap, chatting to her as if they’d always been friends.
For all I knew, they could have been. I’d never paid much attention to whether Jane had friends among the players’ partners.
We waited until the press interviews had ended so Matt could join us, and then we headed to Rinkside, the bar and restaurant nearest to the stadium.
In previous seasons, a handful of us had made a habit of going there after home games to debrief, but it seemed that this year, everyone was determined to come along.
We were shown in by wide-eyed waitstaff who managed to find space for us along one wall, despite us having turned up at the last minute without a reservation.
I felt a little bad for them, but they put their game faces on and got to it.
I supposed that having the local NHL team stop by after their very first game was worth whatever extra trouble we caused.
We ordered food and drinks. The drinks came quickly and, unfortunately, it didn’t take long for the younger players—and a couple of older ones who should know better—to get rowdy.
Our game was replaying on a screen above the bar, and three of the rookies started a review of everyone’s mishaps and moments of brilliance, growing more and more outspoken with Jesse egging them on.
Beside me, Jane was no longer making conversation but instead watching everyone with those big dark eyes as she wrapped her hands around a pint of beer and drew circles in the condensation with her thumb.
I leaned closer to her. “How was it watching with the others?”
“Fine. I sat with Maribel and her little ones. She was grateful for the extra help with the kids. Luis is super cute. Very shy.”
I imagined she could relate to a shy kid better than most. “They weren’t… I mean, no one was rude to you because we’re together now? They did know, right?”
She nodded. “I think everyone has heard, but they were nice enough, same as always. None of the guys have given you any trouble, have they?”
“No.” It surprised me, actually. Nick, of course, had guessed that it was fake because of our conversation the other day, but as far as everyone else knew, it was real.
I’d expected at least one of them to give me a hard time about taking advantage of an employee, but so far, they’d all been strangely accepting.
“Quiet down,” Mitch called to the rookies.
“Quit grumping, old man,” one of them teased, earning a scowl and a glare.
“Seriously, the last thing we need is for Coach Dunn to get word that we’re causing problems.”
Mitch had a good point. Unfortunately, at that moment, Jesse got knocked over on the screen and Drew went after the guy responsible.
Along the table, Drew sneered. “I should have hit him harder.”
Matt shoved his chair back. “You shouldn’t have hit him at all. What the hell were you thinking?”
Drew’s solid frame practically vibrated with rage. A bit of an overstated reaction. Someone really ought to get the guy into anger management classes.
“I was thinking that those assholes tried to take out one of the least shit people on this team and they needed to realize we weren’t going to stand for it.”