Page 12

Ruben

I sat in the big SUV that was hired to drive all staff to Reno for today’s game and forced myself not to text Max. We’d spoken throughout the week, and I was happy that tonight we’d get more time to see if the connection we felt last week was more than me being concerned about his injury.

“Doc, did you hear what I said?” Coach asked.

“No, sorry, what was that?”

“I’m going to put Hofstedder in for the second period. I don’t want to take the chance of Vanel being injured before we’re able to get another alternate.”

“He should be fine. His knee might be a little tender, but it wasn’t seriously injured,” I said and knew he’d be thrilled to know he’d have a chance at playing. And I realized I looked forward to seeing him play as long as they didn’t make him a target again.

“What do you think?” Coach directed his question to Dexter who had been grinning the whole trip. I wasn’t sure if he was that happy to be done playing or if he hated riding the bus with the players. Either way he looked happy.

“Hofstedder proved he can take the heat. The Strikes are having too much trouble within their team. I doubt they’ll be able to score on us with either goalie, plus it’ll help him get more experience the more he plays.”

“I know you went through the same thing starting at third-string and not getting much play. But I think we should start letting them play when we can. It’s good for all of us,” Coach said, and I started to realize more and more why he was so popular with the team. He cared about them all, and not just from a game perspective. He wanted them to grow and achieve more than just sitting on a bench their whole career.

“I don’t mind them getting to play at all. Actually, I agree with you, and I wish I’d been given the same opportunity. It’s terrifying when you’re thrown out there as a last-minute sub and you haven’t been able to get any experience on the ice in a real game. Good idea, Coach.”

“I’m still looking for a third-string goalie. I talked with one, but I don’t think he’s ready yet. How about you? Any luck?” he said to Dexter and the two of them went off on their own conversation. I grinned to myself, happy that Max would get the chance he wanted.

An hour later we were pulling up to the back of the arena. The bus had already arrived and most of the players were already off and inside. We walked over to the side where they were unloading equipment and waited for what we needed. “I’ll get it, Doc,” Brian said.

“I’ll see you inside,” I said and walked with Coach to the locker room.

“I want you to keep an eye out for injuries. If you spot anyone who you think is injured worse than they’re letting on, I need you to tell me. We can’t risk losing anyone,” he said.

“I will. So far everyone who was injured last week is doing well.” We stepped into the locker room, and it was as loud as it was last week. All of them were excited about playing. My eyes went right to Max who was also looking at me and gave him a little nod while he tried not to smile. I was so fucked. We hadn’t even done anything beyond kissing and he’d been on my mind all fucking week.

“This way, Doc,” Brian said, and led me out to the box the team would use while they played. I looked around and was surprised the Silver Strikes arena looked so much older than ours. We’d been lucky as a new team to be able to play in a brand-new arena, but this was Reno. They bet on everything here, and I thought they’d put some of that money into their arena.

As we were setting up what we’d need immediate access too I watched as the Strikes warmed up, and it was more than obvious how much hate they had for each other. There didn’t seem to be one person on the team who cared about playing. The coach sat in their box scrolling his phone, not even paying attention.

“They’re not much of a team these days,” Brian said.

“Why do they keep playing together if they all hate each other so much?”

“Sometimes there isn’t another choice,” Brian said, just as the Titans came out and circled a few times before everyone took an area and started stretching.

“Our guys look pretty good,” I said, making Brian roll his eyes. “Well, they do.”

“They do, but anyone looks good compared to these clowns.”

Coach Thomas walked out on the ice and started shouting commands and directing them to do drills. Some of the guys protested, but most of them just did it without complaint. He walked a little closer to us and said, “Be ready. I might be wrong, but I think it’s going to be a fight again today.”

“Can’t we have a game where they just play?” I asked, knowing it was a stupid question.

“Then it wouldn’t be hockey would it.” He grinned and went back to yelling at the players. Max was warming up with Vanel and I hoped he survived this one in better shape than the last time. I watched a moment as he did the splits and stretched way past what I would have been able to do and didn’t seem to even strain. Yep, I was definitely in trouble.