Page 32 of Hat Trick
“You are. Which is fine, Riley, but we’re your brothers. We want to see the messy and fucked-up parts of your life, okay? After my mom passed, I was broken. The guys on the team were the only thing that saved me. And I’m not saying you need to be saved. Just… let us be waiting with a life jacket if it starts to feel like you’re drowning, okay?”
His mom was diagnosed with breast cancer, and when she died, he slipped into a trance. He didn’t eat. Didn’t sleep. He went through the motions of playing hockey, but he didn’t reallyplayhockey.
I don’t want to get like that. I don’t want to be so far gone I’m not recognizable. Judging by the sympathetic glances being tossed my way, I might be halfway there.
“Yeah,” I say, bitterness sitting heavy on my tongue. “Okay.”
“Mitchy!” Ethan yells. “I’m adding your ass back to the group chat. You missed a lot of shit.”
“You haven’t missed anything,” Hudson says, and it’s another lie. They’ve all moved on, and I’m sure I’ve missed hundreds of things like birthdays, important moments… Ethan and Grant finally aging out of their ELCs and not being forced to share a hotel room on road trips anymore. “And you don’t have to join the chat again. You know these idiots talk too much. It’s annoying as hell.”
“Might be nice to get my mind off other things.” I gesture at my leg and shrug again. “What’s a few text messages?”
Hudson clasps my shoulder and smiles. “I’m really fucking glad you’re back, Mitchy.”
* * *
I hangout in the tunnel while the PA announcer welcomes the crowd. I can feel the electricity all the way down here, and I know the Stanley Cup ring ceremony before the regular season opener is going to have even more energy.
The guys want a three-peat. The fans want a three-peat. It’s expected at this point, and with the depth and talent on the team, they should be able to get it done even without me.
“Hey,” a voice calls out, and I stop tossing the puck I’m holding. When I glance up, Lexi smiles at me.
She swapped out the clothes she was wearing earlier today during our session for a game night outfit of stretchy black pants, a polo, white sneakers, and a Stars bomber jacket. There’s a light blue ribbon tied to her long ponytail, and it matches the logo stitched on her shirt.
“Hey,” I answer.
“Glad to see you can follow directions.”
“Sure.”
“What’s wrong?”
I look out at the ice and watch my teammates line up. Grant stands next to Hudson, filling the spot where I’d be, and my chest pinches tight. “I don’t want to do the puck drop.”
“You’ve done a puck drop before.”
“As an athlete smiling for a photo. Not as the one doing the puck dropping. It’s usually for important people: kids battling cancer. The people who fundraise a million dollars for charity during the Marine Corps Marathon weekend. Not me, the guy with the bad attitude.”
“Riley.” Lexi walks over and stops in front of me. I don’t like how sad she looks. I hate the wrinkles between her eyebrows. The frown lines around her mouth. “Youareimportant.”
“I didn’t go to war.” I pull off my glasses and pinch the bridge of my nose. I’m irritated. Pissed off. Sick of having all this unwanted attention on me that won’t stop. “I wish everyone would quit treating me like I did something special. I didn’t. I’m alive. That’s it.”
“Isn’t that worth celebrating? People are happy you’re okay.” She touches my shoulder before letting go and tucking a clipboard under her arm. I see the lineups for tonight listed and narrow my eyes. “Let them have this, then you can disappear for a while.”
“Why is McDavidson starting with Hudson? Seymour is the better player.”
“Do you think I’m going to question Coach’s lineup choices?” She snorts. “I don’t want to be on the receiving end of his wrath.”
“Not sure who made that decision. It wouldn’t be my call.”
“Look at you. Maybe you have a future in coaching.”
“Doubtful.” I can barely make it through a session of the summer camp we do with the local kids in August. It’s too chaotic. Made up of too many moving parts, and there’s no way in hell I’d survive a full sixty minutes in the pros. “Don’t think it would be my jam.”
“How are you feeling today?”
“Do you mean mentally or physically?”
