Page 38 of Any Second Now (Fort Collins Blizzard Hockey #2)

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ATTICUS

“ G et your asses moving, gentlemen! Summer is over. Almost.” Coach Jackson projects so impressively from on the bench, it’s like he’s got a bullhorn. “Time to get yourself in gear for hockey. And it’s obvious some of you have been eating too much, drinking too much, and sitting on your asses.”

I growl. It’s still freaking July. But I don’t say it out loud in case it brings Coach’s wrath down on me. As if he hasn’t been lying around and drinking and eating too much? Just because his career doesn’t hinge on how fit he is doesn’t mean he can throw it in our faces.

Well, I guess it does, actually.

Real practices don’t start until pre-season in September, but most of the team steps up their workouts and skates throughout August in preparation. This practice is mostly informal. Not all the players are back or even participating in the upcoming charity event .

We’re on the ice doing two-on-one drills with rotating partners.

I attack with Kellen and we attempt to get past Lachlan to shoot on goal.

Augustus, our goaltender, stands guard at the net.

He looks relaxed and tan after a summer at the beach with some of the other guys.

I bet they went for leisurely jogs on the beach every morning and played golf in the afternoon.

That’s what I should’ve done this summer. Gone to the ocean and got a tan and worked on my surfing skills.

Not let myself fall for Raleigh.

I shake my head to get the repeating I love her out of my head, and instead focus on my next pass to Kellen. After I get him the puck, I skate ahead, but Lachlan knows this play, so when Kellen goes to pass back to me, Lach’s right there and hits the puck past us to clear it from the net.

There are no smiles from Lachlan today. He’s focused and stony-faced, channelling his heartbreak into hockey. That’s the healthy way to handle it. Take it out on the puck.

I, on the other hand, am far too distracted. I can’t focus. I can’t think straight.

My father texted me again yesterday. I’m not a fan of him keeping in touch since Lucy’s not been responding. And this time, when I responded, there was no sarcasm or snark. I told him I needed a break from him.

Because I don’t want a reminder of who I am by nature. I don’t want to see him or talk to him or watch how he treats women. Even if I can’t have Raleigh, he’s not who I am going to let myself be.

And that feels like quite the revelation.

It feels good to understand myself a bit more, but it doesn’t help my current heartache.

I kind of want to kick Lachlan’s ass for even suggesting Raleigh be my dating coach that first day we all hung out at Black Diamond.

He was enthralled with his girlfriend and determined to play matchmaker.

Maybe if that hadn’t happened, Raleigh would’ve moved on, just using Fort Collins as a brief stopping point since Lucy was out of town for another month.

Maybe I wouldn’t have kissed her that night while we were watching the zombie movies.

There’s a twist in my chest. My heart? My belly? Maybe I just need to throw up. Or maybe it’s heartburn.

We skate around to the back of the line and rotate partners so I’m with Harley. His face is a blank slate, and he nods at me while we wait our turn to shoot at Augustus.

“You okay, man?” I ask Harley. He definitely does not look okay. He’s not been acting okay.

He nods. “Fine. Feels good to be back on the ice.” It sounds like he’s talking through gritted teeth.

I think his breakup might have cleared his entire body of any emotions. Permanently. He’s never been the outgoing extrovert, but he at least chatted with us, laughed at jokes, engaged with the guys. Now he’s a robot going through the motions.

“I know what you mean.” It does feel good to be back on the ice and around the team. Hockey season means something huge and all-encompassing to focus on. It’s not just our job, it’s who we are.

This time, I get the puck back to Harley and he manages to sail it past Jasper. It almost goes in, but Augustus makes an impressive save with his glove.

After another ten minutes of this drill, Coach sets us up for a passing drill where we’re all positioned around the ice with the goal of keeping the puck moving in a continuous motion, mimicking the intense pace of passing during a game.

There’s not much time to think. And for that, I’m grateful.

The best part of today’s practice is the fact that I’m pushing myself hard and my body feels one hundred percent ready. Those twinges in my groin that lingered over the summer are gone. Even the phantom ones.

We end the practice with a twenty-minute intense scrimmage. We always take these seriously, but especially during preseason—or pre-pre-season, as this is—because Coach Jackson and sometimes other people from management are on the sidelines assessing us.

But this time, halfway through the scrimmage, Coach Jackson mixes up all the lines in a way that makes me feel sick.

They pull Barrett up to the first line as left wing—even though he normally plays right wing, my position—and move Harley down to second line. Then they move the second line left wing down to third line and swap that dude… it’s a lot of movement.

But the intention is clear.

Coach is testing different lines.

It’s not that unusual to switch sides during practice to make sure we’re comfortable playing both positions. Sometimes it even happens in a game situation. But moving Harley down to second? That’s not normal.

I’m hoping it’s just for this scrimmage, and not for the season. Why would he mess with a good thing? Kellen, Harley and I are like a well-oiled machine up here.

But Barrett Steele is really good. And young. And powerful. And I’m sure the Blizzard paid a shit ton of money to get him on the team.

And today, he shows his worth. He does a pretty fucking good job sliding into Harley’s spot. He’s faster and more powerful. It’s obvious.

Fuck.

Is Barrett fucking Steele legit ambidextrous? Why the fuck is that kid so good?

Grayson and Elias—the second line defensemen—do an amazing job keeping us at bay. Looks like some of the other guys have been working hard over the summer. Or are at least coming in with determination.

Things might be different this season. I don’t like change. Especially as I’m on the first line with two of my best friends.

The scrimmage ends and Coach Jackson calls us all over.

“Nice work, everyone.” He claps his hands three times. “As you saw, we’re playing around with some of the lines. These charity games are the perfect time to test new lineups and strategies.”

There’s some grumbling from the group, but Coach holds up his hand to stop the noise.

I sneak a glance at Harley, but his face holds zero expression.

I wonder if he’s going to talk to Coach.

Harley’s so close to retirement—still a top hockey player, but it’s hard to compete with twenty-five-year-old bodies when you’re in your mid-thirties.

I let my eyes land on Barrett. He’s got the common courtesy to not be smirking.

I guess I’m lucky Coach didn’t push me down to second line today as I’ve crossed that old-as-shit-for-hockey thirty-year-old line in the sand. Because really, Barrett should be the biggest threat to me, not Harley, as we play the same position.

I’m overthinking all of this.

All I can do is play the best hockey I can.

“I want to go over a few things. This here is the group for Skate for Kids, our upcoming tourney.” Coach gestures to us.

“This is a fundraiser for several different prominent children’s nonprofits, including one that focuses on childhood cancer, so we want to give our full effort. Consider it a preseason game.”

We all nod and there are some murmurs from around the ice. A few guys glance at Kellen, whose young daughter is a childhood cancer survivor.

“We’ll be playing two games. Thursday we’re against Calgary, and Friday it’ll be Vegas. The private plane will leave to come back to FoCo on Friday right after the game, although I know several of you are spending the weekend in New York City.”

Barrett and Lachlan are staying the weekend, and they’re trying to get Harley and me to as well. Why the fuck not? What else do I have to do? Might as well have some fun in the city. Maybe I’ll meet someone to help me get Raleigh out of my head .

But even thinking that disgusts me.

I don’t want to get her out of my head.

I don’t want to kiss anyone else.

I just want Raleigh.

Ah, fuck.

I hate the tightening of my chest when I think about how I’ve lost her.

“That’s all. Flight leaves in five hours. Don’t be late.”

Coach Jackson dismisses us and we all head to the locker rooms for showers.

No one mentions the line mixups.

“How are you feeling out there, Atter?” Kellen asks me as he slides on his sneakers post-shower.

“Good. Healed.”

Kellen casts a side glance at Harley’s cubby. He showered and sped out of here so fast. Barrett and Lachlan followed shortly after.

“I’m afraid everyone’s heads aren’t going to be in these games.” Kellen sighs. “I might have to give a bunch of pep talks.”

I nod. Kellen’s good at that kind of stuff. Better him than me, especially in my condition. It’s one of the reasons he’s our team captain.

Kellen stands and grabs his phone and wallet from his shelf. “You’re doing okay though? Mentally?”

“Course. I feel one hundred percent.” I pretend not to know that he’s really asking about Raleigh.

I don’t want to talk about her right now.

But I won’t be able to avoid spilling my guts to him for long.

We always share a room when traveling, so for the next two nights it’ll be just us for at least some amount of time.

“Right.”

I don’t add more or look at him, but I can feel Kellen’s gaze on the side of my face as I slip on my shoes.

“I’m gonna go hang with Lucy and Ava before we leave. See you in a few hours.”

Kellen leaves to go see my sister and his daughter .

I let out a deep breath.

I’m never going to have what he has. I’ve known my whole life that it’s not in the cards for me.

I can’t wait to hear how Kellen tries to convince me I’m wrong while we’re in NYC.