So Gallantly Streaming (Stars, Stripes, and Hockey Nights #8)

Chapter One

Dash

“I’m sorry,” Kevin says, defeat and sadness leaking from his voice, saturating the entire room in a dismal sort of despair. “I wish I had better news.”

I’ve never seen my agent this dejected before. I’d almost say he looks…depressed.

And it’s not even his career we’re talking about.

“Yeah,” I huff, shoving a hand through my messy hair. “You and me both.”

Coach clears his throat. “We’ll be sad to see you go, DiFranco.”

I press my tongue to the inside of my cheek and nod.

If I’d been asked before this moment if losing my hockey career to an injury would make me emotional enough to cry, I would’ve laughed it off. Yet I’m so choked up, I can hardly form words.

This feels like the end of a very long, hard-fought era. And I’m man enough to admit I’m sad to see it go.

Kevin clasps his hands across his stomach, leaning back in the chair next to me. “I hate to bring this up but, God forbid, he gets put out on injury during the season, will he be entitled to a severance?”

“According to the team manager, yes.” Coach’s grim smile does nothing to assure me. But it’s not the lack of money or not being paid what my contract states that worries me. It’s losing my career…my identity. The thing that makes me…well, me.

“I won’t get permanently injured.” I finally manage to speak through the pain.

“Lynette says with enough ice and heat before and after practices and games, plus the exercises she’s recommending, that I’ll be able to maintain full mobility in my shoulder.

I might not be able to last another few years in this game, but I can at least last the season. ”

Both my agent and my coach stare at me.

“I mean it,” I say with more force, straightening in the chair. “I won’t be put out midway through the season.”

“If you go too hard, you could risk permanent injury,” Coach reminds me.

“I won’t.”

Kevin smiles. “I’ll make sure he babies it.”

Sure he will. If anything, he’ll only pester me about keeping up with Lynette’s regimen, so I can continue playing.

“Good.” Coach rests his elbows on top of his large desk and leans forward. “Now that the hard news is out of the way, I have some exciting news to share.”

My ears perk. Could this have something to do with me retiring after this season? A special sort of send-off, maybe?

“I received a call this morning.”

When I continue to stare, eyebrows raised, Coach expounds.

“Coach Badaszek wants to recruit you for an All-American tournament in DC. He’s looking for the best of the best to represent the Stars, a team comprised of players from the western United States.”

My heart thumps a little harder in my chest. “Coach Badaszek? From Nebraska?” The man was an incredible hockey player back in his day and must have at least thirty years or more in as an esteemed coach.

“That’s right.” Coach grins. “He wants you on defense in DC, DiFranco.” He pauses, probably giving me time to catch up with all this news being thrown at me. Then he adds, “It’s the opportunity of a lifetime.”

Kevin asks Coach a question about the tournament, but the rushing in my head drowns out all other noise. Questions, possible scenarios, and a host of what-ifs cloud my mind. I’m losing the career I’ve loved for so long. But I’m not done yet.

I’m still…wanted.

“I’ll do it,” I say, all the breath leaving my chest in a rush. “I’ll play in the tournament.”

Both my long-time coach and agent blink at me. “Of course you will,” Kevin says, a look of bewilderment crossing his face. “Weren’t you listening just now?”

I shake my head. “No. No, I wasn’t. But I am now.”

And with that, I make a silent vow to give this last season, this last hoorah my all. Even if it all ends in a flashing blaze of painful, once-in-a-lifetime grit and smoke.

***

There’s nothing better than a mixture of ice spray and sweat dripping down my face after a hard-fought match on the ice.

Well, nothing except getting called up to play for an all-American hockey team that represents my region.

“I’ll be playing for the Stars,” I say through the phone. “Representing the West.”

Mom squeals. “That is so exciting, Dash! And when will we get to see you play?”

“Game one is July 6th. But I’ll be arriving and staying in some fancy hotel in DC a week or so before then to practice with the team.

I’m hoping I can book a room for you at the same place but can’t make any promises.

The team manager says he’s expecting it to fill up fast.” I scratch the scruff on my jaw that’s rapidly turning into the beginnings of a solid beard.

“Guess I’m the only one from Springtown that received a call, so not sure if I’ll know anyone else. ”

That was a dumb statement. Of course I’ll know people. But I may not have any close friends there.

“Well then, it’s a good thing you make friends so easily.” The motherly pride in her tone can be felt from hundreds of miles away.

“Yeah.” I chuckle. “Thanks, Mom.”

I’m usually pretty outgoing. And I have been described as a “golden retriever” type by my book-obsessed sister, Danae.

But that’s mostly only in situations where I’m comfortable.

DC isn’t a familiar playing field, and I’ll be a part of a totally new team specially set up for our country’s 250th anniversary.

Representing the home I’ve made here and the people I love—it’s a big deal.

Even discussing it all with Mom on the phone has an uncharacteristic nervousness thrumming through my veins.

“I’m so proud of you,” Mom says, as if I didn’t already know it.

“I know, Mom.”

Jenksy pushes through the dressing room doors with Gobbs on his heels. They both give me a nod of acknowledgment before tossing their bags down in front of their stalls.

“I gotta go, okay?” I tell her. “I’ll call soon.”

Mom hums a laugh. “You better. Do good at practice.”

“I will. Bye, Mom.”

As soon as I hang up and drop my phone into my bag, Jenksy pipes up. “So. Word on the ice is we’ve got a superstar in our midst.”

Heat climbs up my neck, but deep down, I know I’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about. Getting called up for this team is a huge honor. Something notable I’ll get to look back on when my flash-in-the-pan hockey career is long over.

“How does it feel getting to bask in the presence of my greatness, Jase?” I spread my arms wide, flexing my biceps.

Jenksy, Springtown’s starting forward right winger, rolls his eyes. “I knew you’d let this go to your head.”

“As if it isn’t big enough already,” Gobbs mumbles.

I stand and stretch before starting on my gear. “I may have a big head, but even you can’t deny I’ve got the game to back it up.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jase tosses a balled-up pair of socks at me. At least they look clean. “I’m still waiting on that one v one match you promised me last week.”

Dang, I forgot about that. Guess my mind’s been a little preoccupied since Coach called me into his office to share the good (and bad) news.

“What a way to go out,” Coach had said at the end of our meeting, dark eyes glinting with pride. “You go and you play your heart out. Represent us as best you can. The team and I will be watching from home.”

The term bittersweet falls short of what I felt in that moment. Pride, yeah, but along with the sense of accomplishment came the distinct feeling of loss. I may talk a good game in front of the guys, but none of them know that this will be my last season.

Yet.

As much as I want to play professional hockey forever, I’d rather keep my shoulder from blowing out completely. And the physical therapist says if I don’t say goodbye to my first love soon, a complete shoulder replacement surgery is in my near future.

No thanks.

It’s been two days since my chat with Coach and my agent, but the former’s admonition to play my heart out still bolsters me when I think about leaving for DC.

Or when Jenksy tries to get under my skin.

I glance at the clock on the wall. “Looks like we’ve got a few minutes before practice starts. Want to see who can score the most shots before Coach works us to death?”

Jenksy smiles, hops to his feet, and grabs his helmet. “You’re on, DiFranco.”

***

“Guess I didn’t need to go that hard,” I mutter to myself after getting my shoulder wrapped by Lynette, Springtown’s own physical therapist.

She chuckles, gathering what’s left of her supplies and putting them away neatly in the drawer. “I’m sure you didn’t. But you just can’t seem to help yourself.”

A slow smirk crawls across my face. She’s right. I can’t. Not when it comes to putting Jase in his place.

“You need to take it easy for a bit,” Lynette says. “Or else you’ll be sitting out at the start of the season.”

I wipe the smile from my face. That’s the last thing I want. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll try.”

She raises one gray eyebrow, giving me a look that says she doesn’t believe me.

“I really will. Promise. And if not, then hey…” I hop off the bench and wink. “At least I’ll get to see more of your lovely face.”

Instead of laughing or sarcastically brushing me off like she usually does, she eyes me carefully. “It’s okay to be disappointed, Dash. You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t bother you.”

Her words tug hard at that bittersweet feeling, pull at something darker and deeper.

“I know,” I say with a forced smile. “But just because I feel it doesn’t mean I have to show it. Wallowing doesn’t look good on me. I’d much rather flirt with a beautiful woman like you.”

The nearly sixty-year-old grandma simply shakes her head. She’s used to what she calls my “empty flattery.”

“Come on, you know you’d miss me if you didn’t get to see me every week,” I joke, gingerly slipping my T-shirt back over my head.

“You do know I’ve been happily married for over thirty years, right?”

I mimic being stabbed in the heart and gasp. “Lynette, baby. Why you gotta keep shoving the knife deeper and deeper every week?”

This time, she smiles. “Get out of here, DiFranco. Before I start to take your compliments to heart.”

I scoot by her out the door with a promise to be back soon, all while inwardly wishing I didn’t have a reason to.

On the drive home, I mentally replay my match with Jenksy. Think about the practice drills that caused my shoulder to ache. And it all begins to sink in. The practices, the games, the camaraderie I regularly enjoy with my teammates…after this season, it all goes away.

Maybe it’s stupid to keep getting teary-eyed over losing this career, but I can’t help it. It hurts. And I’m not just talking about my shoulder, though that pain is getting stronger by the day too. I can’t risk injuring it more before DC, either. If I do, I could lose that opportunity altogether.

The sudden urge to talk to Sarah about it all resurfaces. Not sure why, other than whenever I had big feelings to sort out, she was the one I would turn to. But she’s not around anymore. I’ve moved on and so has she. To bigger and better things, I remind myself.

So what if I’m driving home, alone, with only my cat for company.