Page 11

Chapter 11

AMBER

Zack and I talk late into the night. It’s strange, because I wasn’t expecting to spend the night on his couch, but I found myself looking for excuses to continue the conversation. I wanted him to stay there on that couch with me forever.

I opened up to him a lot, too. Our performance coaching sessions are always very one-sided by nature, so it felt good to be able to share things about my life. I talked about college in San Diego, and how much I miss the sun, and how worried I am about my sick grandma.

The way he looks at me is so sweet – it takes me aback at first. He is fully engaged with what I have to say, and he asks questions at all the right times, proving that he’s really listening. And he’s willing to share personal things about himself, too – telling me about past teammates, funny anecdotes that we’d have no reason to discuss during a session.

When he finally goes to bed, I lie there staring at the ceiling. Our conversation was unlike any I’ve had with him until this point. Finally, there was no animosity, no anger, just two old friends reconnecting as adults. Although the way I feel when he looks at me… it’s a little more than friendly.

I force myself to ignore that thought. It’s not productive, and I don’t want to ruin the good thing we have going. We’re finally connecting, and that’s good. It doesn’t have to mean anything.

In the morning, Zack walks me back to my place and waits with me until the building manager shows up. “You really don’t have to do this,” I tell him.

All he says in response is, “I know.”

I’m glad I get the chance to pop into my apartment so I can shower and change before heading back to the Jefferson Blades facility. I’d hate to show up in yesterday’s clothes, especially since I’d be showing up with Zack. I can’t have people making assumptions about the two of us. Especially because nothing happened, and nothing is going to happen.

Still, I find myself thinking about the way he looked at me last night. And this morning. And really every time we talk. I feel like he’s showing me parts of himself that rarely see the light of day. His clear blue eyes aren’t shuttered when we talk anymore, and he doesn’t avoid my attention.

A knock on the door pulls me from my thoughts. “Dr. Morrison?” A young man pokes his head into the office. “Can I come in?”

It’s Donatello. I’ve been so distracted, I didn’t realize it was time for my first session of the day. “Of course. Please take a seat.”

He does, lacing his hands together in his lap. I really like Donatello. He’s young, barely out of college, a little shy, but witty. He’s polite, and I can tell he wants to do well for his team. “Let’s start by talking about your history with the Blades,” I suggest. “Tell me how long you’ve been with the team and any impressions you have so far.”

Donatello gives a nervous laugh. “Well, I just got drafted in June.”

“Congratulations! So this is your first year playing professional hockey?” I make a few notes. My approach with him will be different than the others who had a disappointing last season. Donatello needs the confidence to feel like he fits in with the others and deserves to be playing at this level, which is a different ball game. Or hockey game, I suppose.

“Yeah. I was a seventh-round pick, but I signed a three year contract.” Donatello smiles proudly when he tells me that, and I smile back.

“That’s great! Can you tell me a little more about what it’s been like playing for the Blades so far? Even though it hasn’t been that long.” I make sure to encourage him to keep talking, not wanting to give him any excuse to clam up.

Donatello hesitates for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “It’s different than it was in college, for sure. I played for Boston, and everyone there was trying to stand out and be the best in the hopes of making it pro. But on the Blades, it’s like we’ve made it.”

“What do you mean by that?” I pause in my notetaking to give Donatello my full attention.

“There’s just a good sense of community here, you know? A brotherhood.” He nods, thinking it over. “Yeah. We still push each other, but at the end of the day, we’re a team. And the team comes first. It’s not so much of an individuality thing.”

“So you feel that there’s less competition between the players here, and you like that about the Blades.” I use the parroting technique to make him feel heard, and it’s effective.

Donatello’s face breaks into a wide smile. “Exactly!”

I’m pleased that I’ve managed to make him feel validated. “Great. Next question. How do you feel you fit in with the Blades? Are there any players that you’ve connected with more than others, or look up to in a meaningful way?”

“I think since Griff and I were drafted at the same time, we’ve sort of bonded as the rookies,” Donatello says, naming the Blades’ newest center. Then after a pause, he adds, “And Zack Colt is pretty cool. Him and Jason always seem to know what to do, and they never lose their temper.”

Interesting. I’m not too surprised to hear Zack’s name come up after what I’ve observed on the ice, but it’s nice to have confirmation of what I saw through body language. “Do you feel that Zack and Jason are good leaders?”

“Yes, absolutely.” Donatello nods emphatically. “All of our captains are awesome.”

“Good to know,” I say with a smile, writing it down. So the Blades’ confidence issues don’t necessarily stem from their leadership. Which evidently includes Zack. “How about team morale?”

Donatello continues to tell me more about his short time with the team, and I’m surprised how often Zack’s name comes up. I know he’s a good player, but he is also a good teammate and a natural leader. Donatello tells me how Zack is always the first one to volunteer to help a rookie learn a new move, how he corrects without being too harsh, and generally feels like everyone’s cool older brother.

I hear similar feedback from the other players I speak to. Nobody has anything bad to say about Zack. At least, not as it relates to the game.

His name also comes up when some of the guys mention team dynamics off the ice, and how they wish he would join them on nights out after some practices and games, but he always declines.

That’s very interesting, because I assumed that Zack would be the type of guy to go out drinking and picking up girls. I mean, he’s fit, he’s an athlete, he’s gorgeous, and he’s got that brooding demeanor that some girls are really into. It seems almost silly for him to let that go to waste. All he’d have to do is step one foot into a bar, and he’d have women throwing themselves at him.

Yet he seems to avoid those situations, confirming his “not dating” status comment to Mike the other night. I wonder why? The ducks are not in a row…

I take a break between sessions to take a walk around the facility. I need to get my blood moving. I get so stiff sitting in my desk chair all day, and I’m still getting the lay of the land here.

I find myself by the gym, which is immediately identifiable by the smell that wafts down the hallway. I’m curious about their setup, so I go up to the door and peek inside.

There’s an impressive array of machines, most of which are in use. It must be a weight training day, because it looks like the whole team is in there. My eyes skim over the crowd and land on Zack at the bench press.

Good Lord! My whole body immediately feels warm and numb at the same time. He’s wearing a tank top and gym shorts, so most of his body is on display.

I’m not sure how much each plate weighs, but I’m impressed by how many he has on that bar. His muscles bulge and flex with every movement as he lifts the weights, a sheen of sweat covering his body.

He heaves the bar up a few more times before letting it clatter down to rest on the rack. Then he sits up, resting his arms on his knees, breathing hard. His eyes meet mine through the glass of the door.

I freeze, turning bright red. Zack’s mouth lifts in a little smirk, still looking right at me. My legs finally start working again and I hurry away.

It’s embarrassing that he caught me staring, but how could I not? I fan myself as I rush back to my office, but the image of Zack lifting the weights is replaying over and over in my head, making it hard to cool off.

I’ve done a pretty good job so far of convincing myself that I don’t feel anything for Zack Colt. But this feeling inside me can’t be denied for much longer.