Chapter 8 #2
Am I putting all of that at risk if I keep chasing Maya? This isn’t the time to split my focus. Being drafted from the NCAA is a slim chance at best, yet it’s way better prospects to reach the NHL that way over going the free agent route.
I have been skating my ass off in games, especially against Vermont last weekend. In fact, I played incredibly every time it was my shift on the ice. We won in a shutout, and I’m not going to lie, I wanted to win it for her because she wished me luck. Even if she wasn’t there to see it.
If I can win while she’s on my mind, it’s okay, right?
“Doesn’t have to be a bad thing,” I reason under my breath.
There are guys on the team who have girlfriends. They find the balance, like Keller used to say to me and Cameron as rookies. He and his girlfriend—now fiancé—made it through okay, so maybe I have nothing to stress out over.
There’s never been a deeper connection to worry about before.
I’ve worked so hard at keeping girls as a surface level thing so I’m not distracted from my goals.
Screwing that up now when I’m so close to the goals I’ve been striving for could be the end of everything. It hasn’t been an issue until her.
I never expected a girl to catch my eye, least of all Donnelly’s sister.
Maya turns me into a man possessed. Obsessed.
The only thing I’ve ever been obsessed with is playing hockey.
When I’m around her, there’s nothing I won’t do to earn her gorgeous smile. Then when she’s not around, I hear her voice, imagine her sarcastic eye rolls that ignite something warm and thrilling within me. She’s constantly on my mind.
And half the time, it’s like she barely acknowledges that I exist.
A soft laugh leaves me. I set my stick aside and massage my forehead. What the hell am I doing?
The shuffle of feet on pavement draws me out of my thoughts.
Neil Cannon pauses in front of the short pathway leading up to the house, eyeing me.
The retired NHL player is a local legend.
He comes to all of our home games and usually takes a walk about this time.
Some of the guys think he does it to keep an eye on the players coming back from practice. He stops sometimes to offer his advice.
After another moment of scrutiny, he turns down the path and takes a seat beside me on the porch steps with a gruff, crackling hum. Neither of us speak until he sighs.
“I don’t have all night.”
“Uh.” I’m not clear on what he means.
“Talk,” he grumbles without making any move to go. “Better be quick, or I’m leaving you to sort out what’s on your mind for yourself.”
“Oh. Okay, right.” I clear my throat, pushing my fingers through my hair as I search for where to start. “I’m just out here thinking about a lot of stuff.”
Cannon snorts. “You don’t say.”
His crabbiness is a staple around town. He’s got a hard shell to him, but it doesn’t put me off. If anything, it sets me more at ease and gets me to open up.
“Yeah. A lot’s changing and the pressure’s on. This is my last year to make it in the draft. I’ll be above the age requirement before next season.”
“You’re the team captain this year, I hear. Lombard drinks with me down at the sports bar.”
“Yeah. I wasn’t expecting it, to be honest. I thought Reeves would’ve made a better captain.” I scrub my face. “And I just need to stay focused. This is when it counts most.”
“But you’re not focusing,” he surmises.
I duck my head when he levels me with an expectant look, lifting his bushy gray eyebrows. Sliding my lips together, I pinch the zipper on my duffel bag to tug it back and forth.
“I am, it’s just—there’s…a girl.”
“Uh huh. Always is.”
“Usually it’s not a problem, except I can’t stop thinking about her.
” Warmth prickles through my chest. It’s strange to unload like this about feelings.
Especially to him. “I never expected there to be anything in my life that could possibly rival my concentration on hockey, and I don’t know what I’m doing. ”
Cannon narrows his eyes. “Holding back never did anyone any good.”
I blink, nodding at his advice. It gives me a new perspective I hadn’t considered. I’ve always drawn a line in the sand between me and the girls I’ve been with. No sleepovers. Keep it casual. No repeats if they think what we have is going anywhere, because I don’t let it go further.
But none of them have ever made me crazy the way Maya does. It was easy to hold back with them.
With her, I feel like I’m fighting against a whole team to skate towards the goal.
“Like game seven of the Stanley Cup the year before you retired where everything was riding on that win. Down in points until halfway through third period. Your hat trick tied it up and you won in overtime with a wicked assist.”
Cannon grunts in acknowledgement. That game solidified him as one of my favorite players. I look up to him. Hell, I picked my number because it was his.
“When it’s all on the line, you make it count,” he says.
The heaviness sitting on my shoulders lifts, leaving me lighter. “Thanks.”
“Sure, kid.” He rises to his feet with a restrained groan people his age make whenever they get up, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “Buck up. I don’t want to see the Knights get your asses handed to you again on the ice.”
A laugh huffs out of me and I squeeze the back of my neck. “Yes, sir.”
While watching him continue his nightly walk, something Dad used to say to me filters through my thoughts.
The players that seem like they have it all are the ones who put the work in, on the ice and off it to achieve their goals.
At the time, I didn’t think much of it beyond remembering when to rest my muscles and when to put my all into practicing, but now it rings a little differently.
Having it all could mean I don’t have to draw any lines in the sand when it comes to Maya.
The thought is dangerous, taking root as soon as it slips through my mind.
I picture her as something much more than a casual hookup.
Coming to my games wearing my number to cheer me on, celebrating my wins with me at The Landmark, eating dinner with me and the guys followed by breakfast the morning after.
All things I’ve never had with any other girl—an actual relationship.
I have Mom to talk to. My little brother, Asher, although he’s too young for topics like this.
Coach and the assistant coaches. My boys.
But it’s not the same. Sometimes I get hit square in the gut with how much I wish Dad were still here with me instead of the hole left behind in my heart after we lost him in the accident.
Five years isn’t enough to make the grief of losing him go away. It will probably always hurt that I lost my dad too soon. I try to be strong for Mom and Asher. It’s my job to take care of them now.
If he were, I think he’d be proud to see how far I’ve come, how hard I’m working to achieve what we both believed I could. Proud of the man I’ve grown to be. He’d want me to have it all.
Including the girl.
The corner of my mouth tugs up with a renewed sense of drive. Hell yeah.