Page 7 of Home of the Brave

Having the self-awareness to recognize I was acting like a petulant child did nothing to stop me.

I could have this moment, then I’d leave the locker room with a smile…or at least not a scowl, and do what needed to be done.

There were a million worse things I could be doing. My agent hadn’t signed me up for embarrassing commercials for athlete’s foot or constipation. I wasn’t getting demoted or fired. There would be no physical danger, apart from what I was used to.

Overall, it wasn’t that bad.

A few weeks in the nation’s capital.

Some would consider that a fun vacation. I could visit museums and monuments. Check out other historical things. Like…fine.

History wasn’t my best subject, but I could find ways to enjoy this.

“Josh?” Amelia’s voice reached me from the hall. She stepped through the open doors and smiled. “Good, you’re still here. Hartman said he spoke to you, and I was hoping I hadn’t missed you.”

“Nope, just finishing up.” My pity party. I heaved my bag over my shoulder and crossed the space toward her.

“Our things are by the back door.” She pointed toward the private entrance that led to the parking garage. Wyatt’s bag and another two were waiting to be taken to the airport.

“Thanks.” She fell into step next to me. “Are you ready for this?”

“Yeah, it should be a good time.” The lie sounded passable to me.

She stopped and put her hand on my arm. “This year has been a lot.” She offered a warm smile. We’d grown close when Derek, her husband, was still on the team and I was his backup. In the two years since his retirement, she’d become a good friend.

Maybe it was through her experiences with Derek, or she was just that good at her job as a team trainer, but she could see through my crap and called me on it. I didn’t often confide in her, or anyone, but she seemed to know what was on my mind already.

“No one wanted the season to end that way, but you did your job. You had the highest save percentage in the division, second in the league.”

I shook my head; it wasn’t enough, though.

“We didn’t score like we needed to. Each game we were trailing on shots on goal. That’s nothing you have control over.”

I blew out a breath. “Did Derek tell you to say that?”

“No, but he’s been raving for the past few days.” She smiled and shook her head. “I have to remind him regularly that he’s not a coach.”

“Yet,” I finally cracked a smile. For being retired, he sure was around a lot. Not that anyone minded. He saw things I missed and made sure to tell me. He also pushed us in ways the coaches didn’t—there were things he could say that would get them in trouble.

“Don’t give him ideas.” Her eyes sparkled. “The kids’ league is keeping him busy.”

I laughed with her. A bunch of the guys had kids just old enough to join the mite team, and it became an expectation for us to attend their mini-games when we were in town. It was both adorable and frustrating. Also, the most likely reason for Derek’s new gray hairs.

She stopped and turned to me, looking at me like she was searching for something specific. “So, how are you feeling? Really?”

Had Hartman tipped her off? I dropped my duffel to the ground. She would get the truth out of me eventually, so I caved. “Honestly? A bit overwhelmed.”

She scowled. “Why?”

“Because this is only my second year starting, and I went to the Olympics and now this? Wyatt makes sense. Schultz makes sense. They’re huge names. They have the respect and admiration of fans all over the country. And the other players, they’re the greats.” She nodded. “Then there’s me.”

“You know you can’t have imposter’s syndrome if you actually deserve your position.”

I cocked a brow. “I can’t?”

“Nope, it’s illegal.” She grinned, and I snorted.

“Oh, right.”