6. Josh
JOSH
To describe my job as easy would discredit the decades of hard work, dedication, and sacrifice I’d made, along with all other goalies.
But blocking a puck flying at me at a hundred miles an hour was so innate that I barely had to expend much brain or physical exertion to make it happen. My body just responded.
Due to the endless years of training I’d started from the time I put on my first pair of skates.
Compared to this, all the other noise that came with being a player felt like wading through the trenches.
I didn’t hate the interviews or press conferences. I didn’t love them, but I didn’t dread them either.
At least when it wasn’t Victoria asking the questions.
On the ice, I could easily avoid her.
But the second I stepped off, I was fair game.
I’d never wanted a practice to last longer before.
I didn’t hold my disinterest against any of the reporters.
They were doing their jobs as much as I was doing mine.
In fact, I’d have reason to panic if they weren’t waiting for me.
It either meant no one cared about me and what I had to say, which would mean I should probably look into what exactly a resume was and how to make one, or I’d screwed up so impressively they were scared to ask me a question.
I wasn’t the type to rage after a bad game. I shut down instead, turning silent. I turned reflective and ran through every single second, trying to pinpoint exactly where I went wrong and how I could prevent the same mistakes from happening in the future.
“Henson, switch out,” Coach Abrams called, and I looked to the bench to find Jason Dexter coming to replace me.
He bumped his glove against mine as we passed, and I dropped ungracefully onto the chair next to the bench and took the towel Amelia offered me.
“Looking good,” she said with a small smile. “First practice done. How are you feeling?”
“Fine, good.” I dried my face, then wiped my neck.
“Keep it that way.” She looked down the row. “Colt, let’s look at that shoulder.”
He shuffled down the line and followed her back to the training rooms while I watched Dexter in the net.
“Feel better now?” Coach Abrams stood behind my shoulder.
I shot him a look before tossing the damp towel into the hamper. “What do you mean?”
He handed me a water bottle, and I took a sip as he watched the play on the ice. “Hartman mentioned you were feeling a little off.”
I sighed and pushed down the urge to throw the bottle at the back of Hartman’s head. He was too far away for me to risk not hitting someone else.
“I’m good.”
Abrams crossed his arms, not looking at me but also not speaking. I knew him well enough to know he’d just keep waiting.
“Getting knocked out of the playoffs was hard. I felt responsible.”
“It takes a team to win or lose, you know that. They shouldn’t have been in our zone so much. That’s not something you have control over.”
“Logically, I might know that, but my mind wants to take all the blame.” I took another sip, and he waited. How much more did he want from me? “I wanted to find somewhere to hide out and sulk for a while. I wasn’t in the mood for another huge tournament, yet when Hartman saw me…”
He gave a small nod. As a player for over ten years, he understood. “But you’re okay now?”
“It always helps to get the first practice out of the way. Everyone can shake off their nerves and find their flow.” I twisted a bit to look at him. “I’m good now.”
He didn’t meet my eyes, watching Dexter instead. “Glad to hear it.”
I faced forward and let my smile slip out.
“Henson?” Tyson, our captain, leaned back from the bench.
“Yeah?”
“Team dinner tonight, okay?”
I agreed, as if it were truly optional. We’d been given an agenda with all the mandatory events, from meals, meetings, practices, and even a parade, but team activities decided by us were just as important.
We had to build up camaraderie in record time, and spending time together, off the ice and away from the weight room, was necessary.
“He got us a back room somewhere nice,” Schultz wagged his brows. He just come in and sat on the end of the bench, facing me.
“Okay,” I eyed him; he was acting suspicious.
“It’s going to be fancy.” He leaned in. “A bit romantic, even.”
“What are you doing?”
“Just letting you know that tonight is going to change your life.” He winked, and I leaned as far away from him as possible.
He was weird. Always had been, but this was a new level.
"What's wrong with you?”
“Nothing.” He turned and faced the ice as if he hadn’t just creeped me out.
“Did you hear about some of the mistakes yesterday?” Sanderson called to me from next to Schultz.
“Shut up,” Twiles, one of his Nebraska teammates, groaned.
I smirked, “No, what happened?”
“Twiles here got his protein shake mixed up.” He cracked a smile. “Drank a cake mix instead."
I groaned. “Sick. How long did it take you to notice?”
He shook his head. “One sip was more than enough.”
I chuckled. “So the prank wars have already started?”
“Yeah, Reeves on East already got hit by his own teammates. Got him on the vegan meal plan,” Kitcher, from the Dallas team, added with a smile. “He did not like that.”
“Those are tame,” Schultz joined back in. “They’ll get more interesting the longer we’re here.”
“Great,” I groaned. I’d been the victim of my share of pranks over the years of playing, and I took extra precautions at tournaments like these. There was a fine line between friendly fire and destroyed equipment.
Another bonus of the mid-tier level fame that came with being a professional hockey player was being able to get reservations at restaurants that would otherwise be inaccessible.
“Who made this happen?” Luke asked as we walked through the back entrance of a very exclusive steakhouse.
“Lane had his assistant call,” Hartman teased.
He was one of the very, very few athletes without anyone but an agent. Despite his being Utah’s captain, the face of several companies’ campaigns, and one of the busiest guys on the team, he refused to hire someone to answer his emails or make phone calls on his behalf.
It was weird, but then again, so was he.
His wife did help keep him organized, but they both denied her involvement as well.
I wasn’t sure how he did it. I barely had a schedule to keep, but even I had an assistant. She was remote and mostly handled my social media platforms and emails, but I wasn’t sure what I’d do without her. She kept me from getting overwhelmed and allowed me to focus on training and playing.
Hartman was either a superhuman or didn’t sleep. Those were the only options I could think of after years of knowing him.
Maybe he was a vampire.
“When do Madi and Kendall get here?” Amelia asked as she and Abrams took the seats next to me.
“Not until this weekend. They watch enough practices at home,” Schultz explained, while glancing over the menu.
“Are any of your wives or girlfriends coming?” I asked the group.
Most nodded, and a few answered as two servers entered the private room to take our drink orders.
It was times like this when I wished I had someone to fly in. I could get through the regular season without noticing how lonely my life was, but the Olympics and this tournament were different. I wanted to share these experiences with someone.
But not just anyone.
That was the real issue. If I simply wanted company, there’d be no shortage of willing women.
Unfortunately, I was surrounded by the Pride, the single greatest group of wives and girlfriends in all of sports.
Not officially, but I was fairly certain they’d earned that title.
I couldn’t bring around a casual friend with them keeping guard of the guys on the team. It wasn’t what I wanted, either.
But with how fast my life sped by, there was little time to jump onto dating apps, let alone meeting someone out in the wild.
That left blind dates, and while I entertained that option for a few months when I was a na?ve rookie, I no longer fell for that trap. Most felt like humiliation rituals, and no, I will not even think about them again.
Unless the perfect woman fell from the sky, I was fairly certain I’d remain single until retirement. Not that I minded that too much.
Less distraction. Less heartache. Less responsibility.
Which would be fun if I were the type of guy to take advantage of all of that.
Unlike Schultz in his bachelor days, I never felt the call of the wild. I didn’t like going out and partying. I wasn’t capable of stringing along a woman, let alone more than one.
Huh, now that I thought about it, I was kind of a loner.
I lived alone.
My only friends were my teammates.
My family lived in New England, so I rarely saw them outside of the games they attended.
In my limited free time, I either worked out or played video games with the other single guys.
I needed hobbies. Ones outside of hockey and my apartment.
“Josh?” Amelia elbowed me, and I glanced at her. “Water, okay?”
“Yes, please,” I gave the waitress an apologetic smile. I hadn’t realized she’d spoken to me.
“You okay?” Amelia asked quietly as the rest of the group discussed their plans for showing their partners around the DC area once they arrived.
“Yeah,” it came out automatically.
She snorted. “Try again.”
See, the Pride women went above and beyond their roles.
Even as a team trainer, she didn’t need to engage.
But that was how they trained them. The Pride were experts in dragging out information and confusions.
They were magicians at forcing revelations and had an impeccable track record of seeing signs before any of the men.
If only they were as great at matchmaking as they thought. Almost all my blind dates came from them, and each was a disaster.
One included ice cream vomited on my limited edition Jordans.
Nope. Not thinking about the dark times.
“Feeling extra single at the moment.”
She nodded slowly. “I could see if anyone knows any single women in the area.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”
The corners of her lips quivered before she broke out into a grin. “I wouldn’t. The second they knew there was a chance of setting you up, there would be carnage.”
“Blood in the water,” I agreed.
“It’s only because we love you,” she teased.
“Addi set me up with a ventriloquist,” I reminded her.
“She was also a doctoral candidate. It's not Addi’s fault she didn’t know all of her secret hobbies.”
I shook my head. “She knew. She also knew of my fear of dolls. So that was targeted.”
One step into that woman’s apartment, wall to wall shelving of her collection of dummies, vintage and modern alike, and I ran from the building.
Some say there were tears. Others say there was screaming.
I denied both.
Again, I will not think back to then!
“It really wasn’t.” Her smirk gave her away.
“I’m just grateful we have Henson on our side.”
My name caught my attention, and I looked down the table to where Mario Sanchez from Seattle was tilting his glass in my direction. “Everything you did during the Olympics aside, I’m pretty sure you were the reason Utah made it so far post-season.”
“Hey,” Schultz called with mock outrage. “It was a team effort.”
Dexter scoffed as he shuffled past. “He did everything he could to keep you guys alive. If he could have scored too, he would have.”
I was speechless. It was one thing to hear your own teammates talk you up, but a fellow goalie, especially a competitor, was rare.
Hartman dipped his head, “You’re right.”
“Did you see that block?” Sanderson pointed across the table to his fellow right-wing, Colt. “I thought your shot was going in. There was no way for Henson to even see it, but he threw up his elbow like his spidey senses tingled.”
I chuckled with the rest of the table.
“Playing with you, instead of against you, is quite the treat,” Powell said.
“It’s an honor,” I replied. “And just as much of a relief to not have to block you guys either.”
Abrams caught my eye and gave me a small nod, as if saying, “See, nothing to worry about.”
It was an unexpected reassurance. I’d been in my head, and without knowing, they said exactly what I needed to hear, maybe not in so many words, but they trusted me.