Chapter Five #4
"You've settled in well. Ryan and Luca communicate constantly. Listen to them. They're making your transition easier, but I also expect you to contribute. Don't become a passenger because you're learning a new system. You've got the instincts to create offense. Trust them."
"I will, Coach."
Coach turned his attention toward the rest of the forwards.
"The first line showed flashes of exactly what I want this season. Your puck movement improved every period we practiced together. Keep building on that chemistry because good lines become dangerous when they stop thinking as individuals."
Ryan glanced in my direction and gave a small nod before turning his attention back to Coach.
I returned it instinctively, realizing how much easier he'd made my first practice.
He'd communicated constantly throughout every drill, pointed me into open ice before I recognized the opportunity myself, and never once made me feel like the outsider stepping onto the program's top line.
Plenty of established players might have resented a transfer arriving and immediately skating beside them, but Ryan seemed interested only in building the strongest line possible.
The success of the team clearly mattered far more to him than protecting his own status, and I understood why Coach had trusted him with the captaincy.
Coach spent several minutes discussing details from the morning before dismissing us with instructions to report back for video analysis after lunch.
The instant the whistle sounded, the atmosphere relaxed.
Players moved toward the benches, conversations replacing the intense concentration that had dominated the ice throughout practice.
Oscar was already teasing Ryan about one of the saves he'd made during the final scrimmage, insisting the captain's shot had looked far more impressive in Ryan's imagination than it had in reality.
Ryan answered by threatening to score five on him tomorrow, which only encouraged the rest of the team to join the conversation.
I climbed over the boards and removed my helmet, running one hand through my damp hair before reaching for a towel. As I wiped the sweat from my face, I found myself glancing automatically toward the far end of the rink.
Jack was gone. Disappointment surprised me with its intensity. I told myself he had work to do, yet the arena felt a little emptier without him.
I was halfway through removing my gloves when movement near the Zamboni entrance caught my attention.
Jack had returned and was standing beside the equipment area listening as Graham Foster discussed something displayed on the tablet between them. Graham pointed toward one of the storage racks before making another note, and Jack nodded in acknowledgment.
Jack's attention turned toward the players leaving the ice. The instant our eyes met, his face brightened. It wasn't a broad grin or an overly familiar greeting, just a genuine warmth that made it feel as though he was pleased to see me.
I found myself smiling back as I stripped off my gloves and helmet before making my way toward the boards, waiting until Graham had finished speaking before stepping closer.
Jack excused himself with a polite gesture toward Graham and reached into the pocket of his hoodie for his phone.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
Jack shook his head before typing a short message. A second later he turned the screen toward me.
Congratulations on your first practice.
"Thanks. It felt good to finally get on the ice with everyone. Ryan and Luca made the adjustment a lot easier than I expected."
We stood watching the last of the players head toward the locker room.
The silence wasn't uncomfortable. If anything, it seemed surprisingly easy, neither of us feeling any urgency to fill it.
Jack didn't appear self-conscious because he couldn't speak, and I found myself forgetting that our conversations would always be a little different.
His expressions and the occasional message on his phone said everything that needed saying.
I glanced toward the locker room before looking back at him.
"I know you've probably got your own schedule to keep, but..." I hesitated briefly, wondering if I was moving too quickly. "Would you like to have lunch with me after I shower and change?"
Jack's eyebrows lifted in obvious surprise.
He paused before his fingers moved across the screen, and when he held up his phone, the brightness in his eyes told me his answer.
I'd like that very much.
Relief spread through me so quickly I couldn't stop smiling.
"Great. Give me about twenty minutes?"
Jack nodded.
I picked up my equipment bag and started toward the locker room before glancing back over my shoulder. Jack was still watching me, and he gave a small nod before turning back to help Graham.
As I disappeared down the hallway, one thought kept repeating itself.
For the first time since arriving at Evergreen, I wasn't thinking about hockey.
I was thinking about Jack... and wondering how twenty minutes could feel like such a long time to wait.