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Nope. No way in hell.
My teammates were yelling around me, shouting calls, and taunting one another. I wasn’t paying attention to that. I had my gaze locked on the puck, trying to predict where it was going to be, and how I was going to intercept. To take control. Of the puck, of the game, of my goddamnfeelings.
When I first saw Jessa, my reaction had been entirely animalistic. Hell, I was obviously attracted to her, and I could see the way she was looking at me. She’d felt it, too, that weird littlezapthat had surged between us, an instantaneous connection that had knocked the air entirely out of my lungs seeing her in the kitchen.
This was stupid. There was no way I could besmittenright now. I didn’t have the time to date. I wasn’t in a place to date when the only thing on my mind was making sure I played like a total champ so I could get called up to the New York Serpents for my NHL debut.
I wasn’t supposed tostillbe in the AHL. That wasn’t the plan. It also wasn’t in the plan to get an almost series-ending injury my first season, and to stumble over my skates for the following two seasons. But I had worked hard during the off-season, and that hard work was hopefully about to pay off.
“DEFENSE! DEFENSE!” Coach Wilkens hollered from the bench.
I knew he had his arms crossed and he was gnawing on a piece of cinnamon gum, already pissed with how we were playing. Some of my teammates were rusty, having traded hockey sticks for golf clubs during the off-season, and it was showing. But I hadn’t. I spent more time on the ice than off it.
I felt like I was skating circles around my teammates after I peeled my mind off Jessa, quite a difficult feat. I buckled down and focused on the puck, predicted the movements, and took control.
Worn and tired after a ninety-minute practice, I ignored the childish locker room chatter around me and showered. My right shoulder ached, a pain I wanted to overlook as much as my teammates chirping, and I silently groaned as I dug through my bag to find my kinesiology tape roll empty.
“Shit,” I muttered to myself, tossing the package in the garbage.
“What’s up?” Anders knocked his shoulder against mine, increasing the stabbing pain that surged through my extremity into my back and chest.
“Out of KT tape,” I replied, leaning slightly away from him. “Going to stop and grab some on the way home. You cool with that?”
Anders shrugged, and a grin slowly spread across his freckled face. “Grabbing lunch with Rook. Was going to see if you wanted to come, but I guess your shoulder is bugging you.”
The reality of him nudging against my once-injured shoulder made his smile slip away.
“Nah,” I said quickly and stood. “Thanks, though.”
I slipped past my teammates and pushed through the door into the hallway, groaning at the sight of my grandfather with his hands stuffed in his pockets.
“What the hell were you doing out there?”
“This is a closed practice, Pops.”
He shrugged. “Door was open, so I came on in. Doesn’t seem closed to me.” My grandfather fell into step with me. “You’re playing like an asshole. You know that?”
“Thanks for the encouragement.”
Grandpa Stanley leaned forward to open the arena door for me, and he followed me out into the humid summer afternoon. “I’d encourage you to do a better job.”
I stopped walking and breathed a slow sigh. There was a reason I’d chosennotto stay with the family I still had in Hartford. Namely because my grandfather’s biggest enjoyment in life was telling me what a crappy hockey player I was. It was his annoying way of trying topush meto be a better player. He was my biggest fan, and my biggest critic.
“Pops…” I began, but he raised a hand to silence me.
I stared at his weathered palm, hardened callouses across the top from having some sort of tool in his hand daily for sixty years.
“You want your big break? You don’t get it being a puck hog. You know this, Zachary. Be a team player, show off your skills, and keep your head in the game, damn it.”
“Are you done?” I quipped.
“For now,” he rebutted.
We stood in the parking lot, glaring at one another for a few moments before he took a careful step forward to pull me into a hug. My shoulder screamed, a burning pain I wished would just go away.
“I love you, Zachary.”
“Love you too, Pops.”
