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CHAPTER FOUR

RYAN HARRIS SEEMS to think that Louie has to be his best friend simply because they joined the team at the same time.

Since Louie isn’t a dick, he lets Ryan be nervous in his general vicinity and gently tells him that it’ll all be fine. His general vicinity means the stall next to his because apparently someone in the Cardinals organization also thought they have to be best friends.

“—don’t know why this feels so weird,” Ryan is saying, fumbling with his practice jersey. It got caught on his pads somewhere. He’s about an inch taller than Louie, his mousy brown hair cut in a kind of mullet-and-undercut-marriage that shouldn’t work but somehow does. And he talks. A lot. “I guess it’s because I’ve never played on another team before. Like, in the NHL at least. I’ve played on other teams, but it’s been a while. It’s like… I don’t know any of these guys.”

“You know me,” Liam says. He’s on Louie’s other side. “Don’t be dramatic. It’ll all be fine.”

“I’m not being dramatic,” Ryan says and unsuccessfully tugs at his jersey.

No, he’s not being dramatic. He’s scared. Louie has been there. When he got called up for the first time, he was terrified. Terrified of doing everything wrong, terrified of being put in the lineup and fucking up, terrified of not being put in the lineup and returning to Springfield without even stepping on NHL ice.

By now, he’s not lying awake at night anymore, wondering if he’ll score his very first NHL goal tomorrow. He’s done that and he’s been called up a few more times between then and now. Louie isn’t new to this. Sometimes he wishes he was.

Not being new at this just means that he’s failed too many times.

He reaches out to pull Ryan’s jersey into place.

“Thank you,” Ryan mutters.

Liam shoots Louie a smile, then he waddles away to get on the ice. Louie wanted to be out there five minutes ago, but listening to Ryan’s laments distracted him.

“One of the PR people… she said she wanted me to talk to the media after practice and—” Ryan groans. “What if they ask me—”

“Listen,” Louie says, because he knows the media dance and he’s talked to those guys before, “you’re happy you’re getting a fresh start. You love Hartford. You’re closer to home now. You loved hitting the ice with these guys for the first time. You can’t wait for the game tonight. Your mom is coming. She’s so happy. You’re looking forward to helping this team win some hockey games.”

Ryan frowns at him. “How did you know my mom is coming?”

“I didn’t,” Louie says. He shrugs. “I just figured she was coming when you said you were from Pennsylvania. Somewhere close to Philadelphia, right? It’s not that far.”

“Are your folks coming?” Ryan asks. “I mean, your dad—”

“No, I don’t think so,” Louie interrupts. “It’s not like it’s my first game. Honestly, we don’t even know if I’m making the lineup.”

“Eh, you will,” Ryan says and gently punches Louie’s upper arm.

Louie… doesn’t know what to do with that. Ryan doesn’t know him and probably hasn’t seen him play because Louie spends most of his time on AHL ice. Their paths have never crossed. “You don’t know that,” Louie says. He doesn’t like hopeful platitudes that are in no way rooted in reality.

“Dude,” Ryan says.

“What?”

Ryan, going red-faced in real time, waves him off. “Nothing.”

“No. What?”

“You tried to make me feel better and now you’re being a shit about me doing the same thing?” Ryan shakes his head. “You will make the lineup.”

“Fine,” Louie says, resigned. “I will.”

When Ryan talks to the media after morning skate, he tells them exactly what Louie told him to say. Ryan’s face is flaming red the entire time, but he makes it through.

Afterwards he turns to Louie. “Dude.”

That seems to be his favorite word. “Yeah?”

“Can you do that every day?” Ryan says, pulling off the rest of his gear. “Tell me what to say to them? You seriously saved my ass.”

“It’s not hard,” Louie says. “Just don’t tell them anything real.”

Nick Rivera, who is in the stall next to Ryan, was apparently listening in because he snorts. Nick practically invented never telling the media anything real. Watching his interviews was where Louie learned how to make it out on the other side of a media scrum without making a total fool of himself.

“Well, my mom is coming,” Ryan says with a shrug.

“Yeah. But did you really want a fresh start? Are you actually happy to be here?”

Ryan shrugs again. “I’m trying.”

That startles a laugh out of Louie. “Good for you.”

“It was just kind of sudden,” Ryan says.

Nick looks away. He clearly doesn’t think it was sudden. Louie doesn’t think it was sudden either. Some teams will forgive a slip-up, some teams will forgive way more than a slip-up, depending on who you are and how good you are at hockey, but Ryan may have not been a priority in the first place. Maybe they’d already been thinking about trading him. Hard to tell now.

Louie won’t say any of that to Ryan’s face.

“Not much you can do about it now,” is what he does say. It feels kinder but too harsh at the same time.

Ryan nods, pulling a face. Before Louie actually met him, he would have sworn that Ryan is one of those perpetually sunshiny people. And maybe he is. Life just shoved a cloud in front of him and flicked on the rain switch.

Louie almost wants to give him a hug, except he’s not a hugger and Ryan Harris won’t change that.

Nick shoots them another look, then he wanders away toward the showers.

“I don’t think he likes me,” Ryan says.

“You’ve been here for two minutes,” Louie says. “Calm down.”

“You calm down.” Ryan sticks out his bottom lip. “I just…”

“What?” Louie says. He hates it when people don’t finish their sentences.

Ryan shrugs.

So Louie leaves him be. Like he said, Ryan got here what may as well be two minutes ago. He needs some time to get to know everyone and learn what the guys’ quirks are. Nick, he doesn’t say much. Liam says a lot. Yoshi is everyone’s dad, which isn’t necessarily a captain thing, he just has four kids and he probably doesn’t bother switching off Dad Mode anymore.

Santa is more like a mom. He told Louie to put on a hat when he left for the rink this morning. Santa’s wife Bee chirped him into next week for it while Santa grumbled about below-freezing temperatures and having promised Liam that he’d take good care of Louie.

When Louie gets back from practice, unlocking the door to Santa’s house, his phone buzzes with a text .

From: Dad

Are you playing tonight?

Louie sighs. He is very much not playing tonight. Coach pulled him aside after the game, said, “Hathaway, you’ll get your chance, but not tonight,” and that was that.

That’s why he doesn’t hope. He shows up, does his best during practice, and then it’s up to Coach. Today, he clearly didn’t do enough.

Louie takes a deep breath before he replies.

To: Dad

not tonight no

From: Dad

That’s too bad. Your mom wanted to come watch you play.

Oh, great. Like he wasn’t feeling shitty enough already. Mom wanted to come watch him play. They would have driven down here from Boston.

To: Dad

next time? i’ll probably be here for a bit

Then Louie locks his phone.

“Hey, you’re back!” Santa comes shuffling into the hallway. “How was your first— oh. What’s with the face?”

Louie holds up his phone to answer that question. He’ll let Santa draw his own conclusions because he doesn’t like talking about his dad. People know Martie Hathaway. Born in Boston, drafted to Atlanta, traded to Ottawa, where he met Louie’s mom, who’d just left Montreal for a job there. His dad decided to leave after ten years—Louie barely remembers living in Montreal—to play for his hometown team. Boston is where Louie grew up. If anyone asks, that’s where he’s from.

“Look,” Santa says, “I would suggest holding the puppy to get rid of the look on your face, but—”

“Dave, don’t bug him about the puppy. He doesn’t like dogs,” Bee shouts from her office.

“I don’t not like dogs,” Louie says, palms up. “I’m willing to say hi.”

Five minutes later, Louie is on the couch with a Labrador puppy sleeping on his chest. Way better than that villainous wiener dog. It doesn’t keep his dad out of his head, though.

Louie’s glad he’s not coming. He would have loved to see his mom, but when his dad watches his games, Louie always gets an itemized list of things he could have done better afterwards. Sometimes he wants to ask Bastien if he gets the same treatment, but Louie’s afraid he won’t like the answer.

Bastien doesn’t do a lot of things wrong. Bastien was drafted by the Bears two years ago and made the NHL roster this season. Bastien scored a hat trick in his third game. Bastien will probably be a Calder nominee.

When you look at the pictures from Louie’s and Bastien’s draft days, Dad’s smile is way bigger in Bastien’s. Because Bastien was drafted eleventh overall. Louie was the very first pick in the second round. The Cardinals traded for that pick. They really wanted him.

But he’s still a second-rounder and Bastien is—well, he’s Bastien.

Louie isn’t even playing in the NHL.

He’s watching NHL games from the press box with the injured players and the other healthy scratches.

During the first intermission—they’re losing, even though Ryan Harris went and got his first assist five minutes into the game—Louie takes a look at the upcoming games. He just talked to Petrov and he’s clearly week-to-week, so if Coach Beaulieu doesn’t decide that he hates Louie personally, he’ll be here for a while.

They have tomorrow off. Louie knew that because he’s been invited to attend Ida Hellstrom’s hockey game in the afternoon and to have dinner with Liam’s family in the evening. Practice on Sunday, game on Monday, then they leave town on Tuesday for two road games.

Those are followed by three home games. The third one is against the Minnesota Bears. Great. So Louie will either be playing against Bastien, or he’ll watch him play from up here.