Chapter 6 #2
The assistant coach skates in with the puck, and the rink goes quiet around us.
The newcomer lifts his head.
Through the helmet I catch a glimpse of his face - his features are a little sharper than most of the guys out here, almost delicate in the harsh arena light.
Our eyes lock for a split second.
There’s a calmness there that throws me off.
No nerves.
No awkward tension you usually see during try-outs.
Just focus.
Then the puck drops and the moment disappears as the play explodes into motion.
Within ten seconds I’m already chasing him along the boards.
He moves quicker than I expect. He’s cutting the angle perfectly as he pressures one of our defencemen near the blue line.
The puck pops loose.
He takes it cleanly.
No fumbling, no hesitation.
Before the defender can recover, he sends a sharp pass across the ice.
Right onto Russo’s tape.
Russo barely has to adjust his stick.
He glances back over his shoulder, clearly a little surprised.
“Nice.”
I circle wide, watching.
Okay.
That was good.
The play resets and we go again.
This time I pick up the puck through the neutral zone and push it toward the slot. The defense closes fast, forcing me wide, and I shove the puck toward the boards to keep the play alive.
The newcomer is already there.
He collects it smoothly, head up.
For a split second he hesitates.
Just enough to make the defender bite.
Then he shifts the puck across his body and snaps a quick shot toward the net.
Chen drops immediately and blocks it clean with his pads.
The puck rebounds harmlessly to the corner.
Chen shakes his head behind the mask.
“Alright,” he mutters.
I glide past the newcomer as the drill resets.
Weird. Who is this guy?
When the whistle blows, practice finally ends.
The hopefuls skate nervously toward the bench while Coach confers quietly with the assistants.
The rest of us gather near the boards.
Russo nudges my shoulder.
“Well.”
“Well, what?”
He nods toward the newcomer.
“Looks like your miracle.”
I watch him carefully.
He’s still standing quietly.
He’s clearly better than most of the people we just saw.
I shake my head slowly.
“Yeah,” I admit.
But where the fuck did this guy come from?
LEONORA
By the time the scrimmage ends my lungs are burning in the exhilarating way that only happens when you’ve been skating at full speed for long enough that the rest of the world disappears. My legs feel alive, every muscle humming with that familiar buzz I haven’t felt in years.
God, I missed this.
I skate slowly back toward the boards as Coach blows the whistle and calls everyone in.
I try not to look like the most excited person in the entire building.
Inside, though?
I’m practically vibrating.
It went well.
Better than well.
I can feel it in the way the drills unfolded, in the quiet looks some of the players gave me when I moved the puck or slipped into position at the right moment. Even Zane Blake - who spent the whole scrimmage skating like he was testing me - eventually stopped looking skeptical.
I keep my helmet firmly in place.
No risks.
Coach skates over to the assistants near the boards and they talk quietly for a minute while the rest of the hopefuls wait awkwardly in a loose line.
This is the worst part.
Waiting.
I grip my stick tighter and stare down at the ice, trying not to overthink it.
Finally, Coach turns back toward us.
“Alright,” he says.
Everyone straightens slightly.
“Thanks for coming out today.”
It sounds very final.
“You all skated well,” he continues, voice calm and professional, “but we’re only looking for one temporary spot right now.”
There’s a small murmur among the group.
Coach gestures toward the boards.
“You’re free to head out.”
Most of them start moving immediately, climbing over the boards and skating toward the locker room.
I start to follow automatically.
“Hey. Lee, isn’t it?” Coach uses the name I’d given gruffly at the start.
I freeze.
He’s looking directly at me.
“Stay a second.”
The rest of the guys leave the ice one by one until suddenly the rink feels much larger and much quieter.
I’m still standing there near the faceoff circle.
Coach skates toward me. He stops a few feet away and studies me, arms folded loosely across his chest.
Then he nods once.
“That was impressive.”
Relief hits so hard I almost sway on my skates.
I keep my head slightly down.
“Thanks,” I mutter.
“We’re in a tough spot right now,” he continues calmly. “Our left wing’s going to be out for a while.”
I nod slightly.
“So, here’s what I can offer.”
My heart is pounding now.
“A temporary place with the team,” he says. “You train with us, play while we need the cover.”
He shrugs lightly. “After that… we’ll see.”
The words take a second to fully land.
I got it.
“That is,” Coach adds, “if you want it.”
“Yes! Thank you!” I keep my voice low and my words to a minimum, but I can hear my own excitement bubbling through.
He smiles faintly at that. “Good.”
I’m almost dizzy with happiness.
I did it.
I’m back on the ice.
Playing real hockey again.
“You’ll just need to meet with the physio for a quick physical exam.”
The words slam into my brain like a puck to the helmet.
“And once that’s cleared,” he continues easily, “you’re in.”
Physical exam.
Of course.
Every player has to pass one.
Basic medical clearance - it’s standard procedure.
Except I hadn’t thought about that part.
Shit.
“Sure,” I say casually, while panic explodes quietly in my chest.
Because skating drills?
Fine.
A scrimmage?
Fine.
But a physical exam?
That’s a completely different problem.