Chapter 24
Chapter twenty-four
Reid
“I haven’t seen you and the rook in here super early the last few days.
Did you finally convince him to lighten up on the extra sessions?
” Topher asks and I feel the smirk teasing at my mouth.
It’s not that I talked Luka into not pushing himself too far, we’ve just been working out most mornings in another more .
. . naked way. But I’m not telling him that.
“Yeah, he’s learning to pace himself,” I say instead.
“Great. So, can we expect him to give us any new trick plays this weekend? He hasn’t really been pulling those out lately. My nieces are obsessed with the short videos of him online.”
“What?”
“The short vids. You know, those videos people create by splicing together different clips and overlaying popular music and effect trends.”
“I have no clue what more than half of those words even mean,” I laugh, and he pulls out his phone and steps closer.
“This is one my niece Tiff shared yesterday,” he says, and I take the phone.
“Sexy and I Know It” is playing as the video jumps between different angled shots of Luka moving through his puck-toss trick play.
Tiny hearts and other symbols, along with comments like “So hot” and “My new favorite player” float up from the bottom of the screen.
“Wow, they really love him, huh?”
“Yeah, the rookies seem to be pulling out all the moves this year; that Flash kid for Boston is just as popular with the younger generation.”
Not just the younger generation, it seems. Half of these people’s profile pictures look closer to my age.
But it’s consistency that wins games, not flash and dazzle.
We basically handed the other team a goal when I fucked up that trick play he convinced me to try, and the media were all over it.
They didn’t know it was a failed attempt at a trick play at the time, though.
They thought I just lost control on my way around the net.
I’m not sure which is worse. The word retirement keeps coming up over and over.
Are they right? Should I be thinking about what my life looks like after this sport already?
No. I’m thirty, and in my prime. Retirement is years away.
“I’m not sure this sport needs players trying for the next big flashy trick play,” I say, passing back his phone.
“Well needed or not, they’re here now. Keep that nose safe. If you have any trouble breathing, let me know.”
“Sure thing,” I say, and he turns his attention to his phone, smiling at the short vids playing as he walks away. I guess I know how he feels about these trick plays.
The videos do make it seem like something super exciting, with the different angles and the music and the purple and blue light they added over it, but when we get closer to playoffs, and the media start reporting on how many times we handed over the puck because of a failed attempt at a flashy play, those videos won’t mean much.
I get home, and Luka’s car isn’t there, so I shoot off a text to check that he’s still coming over. We play tomorrow, so it’d make sense to get a good night’s sleep, but what better way to ensure that than coming here and letting me blow him before bed?
REID: Hey, just checking if you’re still coming over? I’m grilling steaks, FYI.
I head inside and find both boys in the living room, faces buried in their phones.
“Have you guys seen those short videos of hockey trick playing things?” I ask.
“Yeah, they’re like constantly popping up on my socials,” Benji replies.
“They’ve been around for a while now. How do you think we knew about Luka before he was drafted?” David asks.
“I guess I figured it was from watching the college games,” I say and they scrunch up their faces.
“We watch you, Dad Bro. Everything else comes from the feeds,” David laughs. “Why, did someone post one with you in it?”
“I wouldn’t know if they did. I basically only use this thing to text and make calls, you know that.”
“We know,” Benji adds, climbing up from the lounge. “So why the sudden interest in the short vids? I know a guy who’s a killer at making them. I can get him to do one of you if you want. Hey, if you try that trick play of Luka’s again and nail it, I’m sure he’d be up for it.”
“That’s not going to happen. My trick play days are loooong behind me,” I say, and then my phone chimes. “Speaking of Mr. Trick Play himself.”
A message pops through from Luka.
LUKA: Be over soon. I got caught up with Alex and a few of the guys. I like mine bloody BTW.
Alex is one of the player development coaches who works with us in small groups or one-on-one sessions, focusing on puck control, catch-and-release, and a bunch of other things. It’s not just for rookies either; I’ve attended my fair share of sessions. No one’s too good to sharpen their hands.
REID: I didn’t know you had a session with him today. I think your skills are top tier right now.
LUKA: Aww, thanks. Yeah, he just wanted to see some of the plays I’d been working on to maybe get some of the other guys involved. Whatever gives us an edge, right?
REID: I thought you were stepping away from the trick play stuff.
LUKA: When did I say that? I thought you were open to me trying something special if the opportunity arises.
Did I agree to that? I don’t remember agreeing to that. What I do know, though, is I can’t handle this conversation over text.
REID: We’ll chat later. I need to get cooking before the boys start a revolt.
***
“Hey, wow, that smells great,” Luka calls as he walks through the door fifteen minutes later.
“I made mac and cheese,” David calls back.
“He made it the regular way, following the instructions to the letter, so it should be edible,” Benji adds.
“I’m in the kitchen,” I yell, and a second later, Luka appears in the doorway holding an extra-large sunflower.
“Have you ever seen anything so big?” Luka asks.
“That’s what he said,” I chuckle, and he shakes his head, coming to my side and pushing up on his toes to kiss my cheek as I finish the last of the steaks. Benji likes his extra well done, so I always cook it last as the others rest, loosely covered on the counter.
“I was passing my flower shop and saw these and just knew I had to get you one. Where should I put it?”
“How about in the middle of the vase, that way it can loom over the smaller ones like a god.”
“Yes, the sun king hath returneth,” Luka replies, sliding it into the middle of the bunch. “Want me to do anything?”
“No, everything’s practically done. So . . .” I begin, trying to sound all casual. “Alex wanted to see some of your plays?”
“Yeah, he grabbed me after our morning skate. Some of the guys asked him to work with them on some special moves. I guess they want to get into the spotlight a bit more this season.”
“You know what gets you into the spotlight?”
“What?”
“Playing smart and getting into the playoffs on reliable skills not flash.”
He smiles, but it’s the one he uses when he’s not actually happy but wants you to think that he is.
“I guess the trainers think there’s room for both reliable skills and a bit of flash. But we agreed to keep work at work, so maybe we should save this conversation for the rink.”
He’s right, we did agree to that, but apparently my brain didn’t get the message because the next thing out of my mouth is, “When those flashy moves lose us the puck and the game, what then?”
Luka stands and holds up his hands.
“Look, I think maybe tonight was a bad idea. We’re both tired, we’ve got the game tomorrow, so we should probably get a good night’s sleep.
I’ll see you at the rink,” he says as he walks out of the kitchen.
I watch him leave, transfixed on the doorway, wondering why the hell I didn’t just keep my mouth shut.
We had a good thing going; we had a deal to keep our work and our extracurricular activities separate, so why did I have to push?
“I think it’s done,” David says, startling me out of my haze, and I look down at his smoking, charred steak.
“Oh, shit, sorry,” I say, switching down the flame and moving the steak to the chopping board. “Do you think it’s still okay?”
He reaches over and picks it up with the tongs, tapping the side of the steak on the chopping board with a tap tap tap.
“Yeah, no. Even Benji doesn’t like it that well done. Do we have another one, because I’m not sharing?”
“Luka couldn’t stay, so I’ll toss his on for a bit longer.”
“That sucks. Everything’s cool with you two, right?” David asks, poking the top of the breadcrumb crust on the mac and cheese. It splits, and burning-hot cheese sauce coats his finger, and he shoves it into his mouth.
“Yeah. We’re good,” I say, hoping to hell that isn’t a lie, because I feel like I only just started this thing with Luka, and I’m really not ready to let that feeling go.