Page 37 of Actions and Reactions (All It Takes #5)

For example, right now, as I look at the faces around me in the hotel restaurant in Philly, I remember how it was during the playoffs last season, when the whole gang was together and we were on a roadie.

Dinners were lively events. We used to linger at the table and shoot the shit for an hour at least.

Now . . .

Well, now I’m clocking in early, hoping a good night’s sleep will help me play harder tomorrow—ironic, I know.

And I’m wading in that irony when I hear Jules’s voice behind me.

“Eagle, wait up.”

I keep the elevator door open for him.

“What’s up?”

He doesn’t answer right away but walks in and presses the button for the floor we’re all staying on to close the doors.

“Can we talk in your room?” He doesn’t look at me when he asks, only at the little display showing the ascending floor numbers.

“Sure.” I mean, what else can I say?

This is clearly something important, and just like he’s always there for us, I’m always going to be there for him.

An awful thought strikes me when the doors open and he follows me down the left hallway. He’s thirty-one. He’s already achieved so much, could it be he?—

I interrupt that thought, because it’s just too bleak, and instead open the door for him, then I walk in and slam it shut.

“You’re not retiring yet,” I proclaim like I know what the fuck I’m talking about.

“No, I’m not,” he says instantly, but he’s so agitated, he rubs both hands over his hair. “But we both know that if we want this season to end like the last one, we’re going to have to make some changes.”

“What?” What kind of changes?

“I just can’t stop thinking about it.” His words come out fast as he takes a big step toward me. “What if we move the lines around?”

“What, we become the second line and Spiderman, Milkman, Twocox, Brick, and Bates go up?”

“No, no.” He shakes his head quickly. “What if Mater and I go to second, and Bates and Milkman to first with you, Benny, and Fire?”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” I shout at him. He’s Jules fucking Dupont, he can’t play second line. “It’d be easier to bring up Brick, Spiderman, and Twocox, and send Fire and me down to second, Jules.”

“You’re thinking traditionally,” he says like an accusation.

“Of course I fucking am,” I counter. “You’re the best player on the team, in the whole fucking league , and Mater is the best D-man we have. You two have to stay in first. ”

“Laney has been drilling into our heads for years that things don’t have to stay the same to work, Eagle.

Think about it. If tomorrow night I’m not on the ice when the first puck drops, Philly’s gonna be as confused as you are.

And even if other teams see it and know it’s happening, they’re still not gonna know what the fuck is waiting for them. ”

“Uh, yeah , cause you haven’t played second line since you were ten probably.

” His wince tells me everything I need to know.

“Never,” I deadpan. “You have never played on second line. Of course.” I have to shake my head at him.

“Look, I know you’re trying to get the team to feel like last season, but that’s just never going to happen because we’re not the same team. You and Mater need to lead us forward.”

“No, that’s just it, we don’t. We have to push you guys forward. Pairing Mater with Brick will give the kid a lot of firsthand experience to get him used to doing things faster.”

I guess I see his point, but... “We can’t play a line we’ve never even practiced, Jules.”

“Sure, it’ll be shaky during the first period, but after that you guys will get in sync, and so will Spiderman, Twocox, and me, but we need Bates and Fire to get used to being paired up, and we need Brick to level up.”

I think about it for another minute, and I hate to say it but I fucking see the damn logic of it all.

“Have you told Laney?” I know he hasn’t but I have to ask.

“No, I want us to go tell him together.”

“Why not with Mater? ”

“Because I want you to play center and Milkman to be left forward.”

Now that really is the last fucking drop.

He wants me to anchor the first line, to lead this team.

For the whole game tomorrow, at the very least. And those are not really big shoes to fill , those are gigantic, mammoth-sized shoes.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” I whisper.

The asshole only nods and smiles encouragingly, like that’s gonna do me any good.

Coming back from a seven-day roadie, the only thing I want is my bed.

It never disappoints.

It’s perfect—soft but firm enough, my bamboo sheets keeping me at the perfect temperature, my pillows molded perfectly for support.

And the best thing?

There’s no morning practice after we fly into town late, so I can enjoy my beautiful bed for as long as I want.

I’m awake, though I don’t know what woke me up, but I need my rest. The last two weeks have been insane, and thankfully we have a two week stretch where we’ll only have home games, so I’ll be able to catch up on sleep as much as I ever can during the season.

Laney loved the idea of shuffling things around, and as predicted, everyone was confused by it—us included .

But Jules, damn him, was right.

We got our feet under us by the second period of that Philly game, and we’ve managed to keep the efficacy of the first line by some miracle, but best of all? The second line has stepped up in a big way.

We’re now no longer in danger of losing our winning record, we have some cushion, and I really believe?—

“I know you’re awake.” That deep voice has me springing up quickly as if I wasn’t just waxing poetic over my bed.

He’s... right there . In jeans and a black T-shirt, bare feet. He looks just the same but also not.

I see his smile and then look into his eyes, and there it is, the one thing I’ve been wishing for since I was a teenager.

Before I can second-guess anything, I lunge.