Page 29 of Next Season
“Don’t be stupid,” he intercepted. “I want you healthy, Trunk. You can’t rush it, and there’s no point in trying to ’cause you’re not getting on my ice until you’re cleared by the professionals. If it takes another month, so be it.”
Icy dread trickled through my veins. Another month would be the holidays, and if this went the way I suspected it might, I wouldn’t see any real ice time till late January or February. I’d be rusty and slow, and—fuck, my career would definitely end the way it began…on the bench.
“It won’t take a month,” I bluffed. “The headaches are almost gone and my vision is clearer.”
“Just concentrate on getting better. That’s your only job for now. We miss you, but we’re hangin’ in there. Did you see the game last night?”
“Yeah, it was a good win.”
He whistled, then launched into the finer points of the third-period game-winning goal Childress had scored on a power play.
I hummed and grunted on cue while my guts twisted and wrung themselves out internally. Hey, I could read between the lines as well as anyone. Coach Marsden didn’t have a lot of time to spare, so the fact that he’d personally made this call and didn’t seem to be in a hurry to end it was a positive sign. It was his way of letting me know he was rooting for me.
However, he wasn’t the type to make empty promises. He couldn’t give me what I wanted—a guarantee that my role on the team hadn’t been compromised by my injury. I supposed I needed a magic crystal ball for that.
* * *
Later that afternoon,I was still stewing over Coach Marsden’s phone call. He’d been upbeat and generally positive, but that might have been due to eking out a clutch win against Vegas. I’d been touching base with most of my team before and after each game like a good captain, but I was kidding myself if I thought those rah-rah conversations were enough to keep me in the loop. I felt like an outsider, and I hated it.
I also sucked at reading context. I kind of hoped Vinnie could offer an unbiased opinion. He’d played for Coach Marsden, and he knew most of the guys on the roster. Plus, he had the advantage of being a couple of years removed from the league, so he might have a fresh perspective.
Vinnie wasn’t my first choice for a sounding board, though.
I glanced at the diner as I walked the few blocks from Main Street to Elmwood Rink, kicking dried leaves in autumnal shades of orange on the pavement. Jean-Claude was busy preparing for a large party, and I didn’t want to disturb him. I hadn’t stopped by for a meal in almost two weeks. I didn’t need to. I had a special midnight delivery with complimentary sexy extras.
I was glad we’d decided not to deny we were friends during daylight hours too. That would have been difficult in a place this small. We’d had coffee together at Rise and Grind at least twice over the past week and had met up at the gym for a light workout on Jean-Claude’s day off.
However, we made sure no one was around when I let him in through the side door for an afternoon quickie. And damn, just thinking about the things we did made me feel gooey inside.
Shit. I had to tone that down, or Vinnie would want to know what was up with me. Explaining why I was grinning like a fool while worrying about my professional future would be awkward.
I nudged my sunglasses to the bridge of my nose as I approached the reception desk.
“Hi, there. Vinnie’s expecting me. Would you tell him—”
“Oh, my God, yes. Of course! I’m Erica and I’m a big fan.” She practically levitated as she jumped from her chair and round the desk.
I shook her hand and smiled. “Thank you. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Well, we kind of met last summer, but it was total chaos. We’d never seen so many hockey stars in Elmwood. It was wild and so cool. I have to admit, I wasn’t really a Slammers fan until I saw you all with the kids. You especially. You were so sweet to my little brother. He’s still talking about you!”
My smile probably looked ridiculous by now. She had no idea how badly I needed to hear some positive affirmation.
“Thank you. It was a lot of fun. I hope to be back next summer too.”
Erica beamed. “Yay! That’s awesome! Come with me. I’ll take you inside.”
Elmwood Rink had gone through a major renovation before the official kickoff of the summer camp. I hadn’t seen the original, but according to Vinnie, the new and improved version featured a remodeled lobby with vaulted ceilings, state-of-the-art locker rooms, fresh boards and plexiglass around the perimeter, a high-tech scoreboard, and shiny new stadium seating. It was on par with some of the nicer college facilities in the area.
I thanked Erica when she opened the main entrance door and instantly got that jittery, happy buzz I always did at the first blast of refrigerated air and artificial ice. I sucked in a deep breath, instinctively narrowing my eyes behind my sunglasses in deference to the overhead lighting. But it was surprisingly dim inside.
I lowered my sunglasses slowly as Vinnie approached. “For me?”
He pulled me in for a bro hug and nodded. “Yeah, it’s almost romantic in here, dude. Don’t get the wrong idea, though. I’m a married man.”
“Ha. Ha. Well…thanks. I think I can actually take these off in here.”
I hooked my glasses on my collar and focused on the west side of the rink, carefully pulling my gaze from the rows of stadium seats to the edge of the ice. My eyes didn’t water, and my head didn’t immediately feel like it was going to explode.