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Chapter Twenty-Seven

LIKE NO ONE ELSE CAN

~~Levi~~

I slump onto the bench in front of my stall and stare at nothing. I’m a hot mess of frustration, and emotions collide in my head like Ping-Pong balls. I blame myself, just like every other guy in this room. I should’ve done more, pushed harder, fought harder. I should’ve made something out of nothing. I want to be a star. Stars step up. They do unimaginable things. They confront adversity and defeat it. I did none of those things. I realize there’re twenty-three guys in this room, and I’m only one guy. I’m certain every man here is thinking the same things I am and holding himself personally responsible for this loss.

Sure, we’re a team. We all know it takes every one of us to achieve victory. Regardless, I’m still beating myself up.

The locker room is eerily quiet considering we’re all in here. The usual music isn’t playing. Even Yuri doesn’t feel like blasting his country music. I hear a few murmurs. Wild makes an attempt at a joke to lighten the mood, but it falls flat. After that, he retreats into himself and remains silent.

Coach enters and gives a short speech about how we’re poised to make history with the greatest comeback in modern times. We all stare at him, but our body language reflects our defeat. He sighs, realizing he’s not getting through to us and that we need time to process before he can inspire us.

“Tonight, take the time to reflect on your own game. Watch video in your hotel room instead of going out. Our video coaches have made the content available via our team portal. You can cast to the TV in your room. Get some sleep, and let’s start fresh in the morning. Practice is at ten a.m.” Coach finishes his speech and leaves, but even his posture reflects his frustration and anguish.

Once the door closes behind him, we collectively groan as our bodies are bruised and battered, but Gorst isn’t known for going easy on a team he coaches.

No one makes a move to undress. It’s weird. We’re all sitting in silence, staring at the floor and mired in our own regrets.

“Boys, listen up.”

I raise my head at the sound of Ice’s voice, as do my teammates. None of us are in the mood for another lecture, but Ice won’t be denied. As the captain, he’s earned our respect. Ice isn’t known to dish out superficial, meaningless sermons. He speaks when he has something to say.

“I won’t sugarcoat it. We blew it. We lost a close one, not because we weren’t the better team, or they got lucky, but because they wanted it more. They were that much sharper, more precise, more ruthless, while we let our feet off the gas when we needed to accelerate the most, then we got desperate and made stupid mistakes.”

He pauses and takes the time to look each one of us in the eye before continuing. I force myself to meet his steely gaze and not look away. Ice doesn’t appreciate any sign of weakness, and I won’t show him any.

“Do as Coach says. Figure out ways you can improve your own game by watching the video. Use tonight to look back on what could’ve been done better. Wake up in the morning refreshed and ready to get back at it. This is survival of the fittest. We have four games to win, and we can do it if every guy here does his part. I’m pissed. I’m disappointed. I’m berating myself. I’m allowed to do that tonight. But as soon as I wake in the morning, that game doesn’t matter. All that matters is the next one. We’ll take it one game at a time. Reach deep and find another level you didn’t know you had. That’s what the playoffs are all about. The winner does that. The losers watch the winners hoist the Cup.”

Ice does one more sweep of the room before returning to his stall to undress and shower. He’s given us the impetus we needed. Yuri plays his country music, though more muted than usual. The banter in the room returns, though subdued. Showers are taken, suits are donned, and we’re on the bus in no time. I hear teammates make plans to watch the tape with their linemates. I agree to join Landon and Felix, even though I really don’t want to.

I wish we were flying home tonight. I need Junie more than ever. Thanks to the time difference, I’ll call her when I finish watching the game replay. She’ll lift my spirits like no one else can.

A couple hours later, I feel better. My linemates and I identify ways we can improve as a cohesive unit. Even Landon is open to criticism, which is a miracle in itself. This final series is bigger than all of us put together, and egos aren’t allowed.

I return to my hotel room after midnight and immediately call Junie. I’m positive she’ll be waiting for my call. She answers on the first ring.

“Tough game. I’m so sorry. What a heartbreaker.” She commiserates with me, and I think she understands my pain, even though she’s never played hockey.

“That loss was brutal.” I’m not going to pretend it wasn’t. This is Junie. I can be me with her.

“I’m so sorry.” Her pain is as raw as mine. I feel her stinging sorrow as if we’re in the same room, and our shared grief comforts me in a way only she can.

I pause to think about what that means. The Levi of only a month ago would be horrified by how much I need her steady support. I’d be fighting my weakness for her and backing off as I’ve done in the past. Only this time, I don’t want to put up walls. I want to embrace everything she has to offer and take a chance on a future with her because a future without her is unfathomable.

“I wish you were here.”

“I wish I was too.”

We’re silent for a moment, each lost in our thoughts. My insecurity raises its ugly head, and I wonder if she’s wary of our increasing attachment or dedicated to a new life with me? She doesn’t sound like someone balking or afraid. I’m making excuses because I’m not sure I’m strong enough to withstand the storm.

But I have to be because the alternative is life without Junie in it, which is unimaginable.

“Levi? Are you okay?”

“As good as I can be.”

“I know you. Are you beating yourself up about the loss, as if only you could single-handedly save the team?”

“Probably.”

“I have news for you, buddy. There’re five other Sockeyes out on that ice with you, along with the other lines and defensive pairs. One guy cannot win or lose a hockey game by himself. It takes all of you.” I hear the sympathetic smile in her voice.

“I know that, but I put enormous pressure on myself to prove that I’m an up-and-coming star in this league.”

“Forget about yourself and your aspirations. This is the finals. Time to put all that aside and be a good teammate rather than attempting to elevate yourself because you believe no one else can do it. You’re good, and you will be a star, but none of those thoughts have a place here. Time to be a teammate who doesn’t care about personal glory.”

“Am I putting my personal glory ahead of the team?” I’m surprised at her assessment. I’ve never seen it that way. All my life, I’ve been the go-to guy on whatever team I’m on, the one who’s depended on in a crunch. It’s hard to shrug that off and realize I don’t need to carry this team on my back. We’re crammed full of talented players with more experience than I have.

“You might be out of habit.”

She knows me too well. “Probably.” I concede that she’s right because I am doing that without realizing it. I’ve been accusing Landon of that very thing while setting a selfish example for him.

“Cut yourself some slack. You’re a rookie in a situation you’ve never been in before. Trust in your teammates. They’re as capable as you are, and they want this as badly as you do.”

“You’re right, as always.”

“Damn straight.”

We share a laugh, and I feel better, as if I’ve got this. I finally see what so many others have tried to tell me, yet Junie is the only one who’s gotten through to me.

“What would I ever do without you?”

Junie is quiet for a moment, and I fear I’ve overstepped, perhaps let my guard down too much. “I ask myself the same thing.”

I smile into the phone. My self-doubt is wrong again. Junie and I are on the same page and about to turn to a new one, if I allow myself to trust in what we have together.

I can place my faith in her as surely as I can be a good teammate for the next four games.

A few months ago, I was spooked by almost blurting out that I loved her.

Now I know I do.