Page 34 of Unrivaled Love (D.C. Renegades #2)

Bryson

Two Left Skates

I slide into the front seat of the car and slump back.

My arm aches from waving at the parade and my cheeks feel tight from smiling constantly. But I made it through relatively unscathed.

I did it.

It’s over.

The parade was a blur of faces but Jo’s touch on my arm kept me steady.

The rally was noisy but I kept it together with Jo standing just offstage.

The hour of talking with friends and family at the party was tough. It felt like being trapped on a penalty kill in your own zone and not getting an opportunity to change lines. I started to keep my eyes on the exit like it would flash a sign telling me it was time to go.

Jo got pulled away by her sister at the end of the party and I watched them leave together. She sent me a text saying Al was giving her a ride home. And while I want to be alone, I want to be alone with Jo. Somehow she’s an added presence that would ease my over-stimulated nerves.

A knock on the passenger side window startles me and I look over to see Crosby motioning for me to unlock the door.

"Hey man," I say as he sits down.

"Wanna take me back to the hotel?" He asks as he looks over his shoulder.

I turn and see Duncan chatting with a group of people and Felix approaching with Aiden and Harper not far behind him.

"Sure, you sick of the crowds, too? "

"Yeah, and I want to see if there are any single rooms open. Felix booked us in doubles and I don't really want to hang at the bar while Dunc hooks up."

"Fair." I say with a chuckle and pull away.

"How'd it feel being the center of attention today?" Crosby asks. The way he says it makes me wonder if he's worried about his day with The Cup next week.

"It was exhausting to be honest. My face fucking hurts from smiling."

He laughs. "Yeah, that's why I'm glad I'm not doing a big thing."

"You're not?"

"Nah. There’s a photo opp with my dad at the LA Arena in the morning and then I get to take The Cup to a local rink that has grown the sport of hockey in an underserved neighborhood. I rented it out for the day and The Cup will sit on the rubber while I get to skate around with kids."

"That sounds awesome."

"You can do it next time."

"Next time?"

"When we win again." Crosby says it like it's a sure thing.

"Right." I mutter.

"You’re still in your funk." Crosby informs me.

I push a breath out of my puffed cheeks. If any of the guys are going to get it Crosby will. Talking this out with him might do me good.

"I fucking broke at the BBQ last night."

"What do you mean?"

"After Cap had me say a few words my ears started ringing and I ran upstairs to try and breathe right again."

"Shit, I'm sorry man. That is the scariest feeling. How'd you get out of it?"

"Jo."

"Good. "

We let the radio do the talking for us for the rest of the drive to the hotel. Crosby can be quiet at times which I appreciate even if I’m never the quiet one when we’re in a group. When I pull up to the entrance I put the car in park.

I wipe a hand down my face and sigh. "I just, I don't know how to get back into it." I admit before Crosby gets out.

"Into what?" He says as he turns to me.

"Into winning. I worked my whole fucking life to get here and now that I have it's like all the drive has drained out of me."

I breathe heavily releasing the frustration I’ve held inside for too long.

"Why did you start to play hockey?" Crosby asks after a beat.

I think back to being a kid and my dad fitting me into my first pair of skates. One of my friends from school said he was going to play hockey and I wanted to do it with him. Dad took me to the second hand sports equipment store and we got my first pair of skates.

I let out a laugh.

"What?" Crosby asks.

"I started playing because my friend was playing. My first time out on the ice I had two left skates."

"Really?"

"Yeah. We got them used and it wasn't until the instructor pulled me aside and had me wave my dad over that we figured it out."

"You didn’t quit?"

“No way. Even with two left skates I stayed for the whole lesson. I loved it. We got a better fitting pair and I kept going back."

"Maybe that's what you need to do then."

"What?"

"Try skating on two left skates again."

"I don't think my old ass bones could handle that. Our poor training staff would have to spend weeks massaging my foot. "

"Or Jo could!" Crosby crows and I laugh. "But seriously,” he continues, “this season is going to be different. We've got to start at 0-0-0 again. The locker room will be different. But, we have to lead with love for the game or we won't get anywhere."

I nod my head. "Yeah, that makes sense."

"’Kay I'm gonna try to get another room. We'll see you for lunch tomorrow before we fly out. Are you headed back to D.C. with us?"

"Salt Lake City for a couple of weeks first."

"Alright. See ya later man."

"Bye Crocs." I say, using Crosby’s footwear preference as his nickname.

On the drive back to my house I keep thinking about two left skates. I review the highlights of my lifetime spent playing this game. My chest fills with anticipation and the familiar pre-game rush floods my system.

Hockey is jazz. Sometimes there is a tune and a rhythm to follow. Other times it's chaos but, it's chaos I can manage.

When I pull up to the house I don't stop. Instead I drive over to Jo's and walk up to her front door after placing a phone call.

***

"Are they at least going to make me the chocolate peanut butter cookies?"

"I don't think L.J. wants to fire up the entire snack counter tonight."

"Shame." Jo says and I smile. She agreed to come with me to the rink. I haven't skated in a few weeks and I think that's part of my problem.

During the season I spend as much time in my skates as I do my shoes. Usually in the off season, I skate a bit each day and then work out and read the rest of the day. This summer the routine has been thrown off by celebrations and appearances .

Crosby is right. I need to get back to my love of the game.

I'm going to start by skating with Jo.

L.J. Harris has owned the local rink in town my whole life.

His kids are helping him out now and I called one of them to let us in tonight.

Jo had skates from high school at her parent’s house and mine from college were in the garage at home.

They're dull, they're molded to the feet of a 21 year old, and one of the laces has shredded but when my toes pinch into the boot my body and soul align. This is it. This is the feeling.

I help Jo tighten her skates and then hold her hand while she stands.

"If I hurt myself out here you have to explain it to my coaches."

"I won't let you get hurt." I tell her as I step backwards onto the ice and hold her hand. As soon as both blades slice into the surface she turns to me and then takes off, jerkily marching and trying to gain speed. "I can't protect you if you run away, Killer!"

I easily catch her and wrap her up in my arms. I lean forward and kiss her under her ear and slide my hands to her hips. Together we push off and glide like we're a figure skating pair and a memory surfaces out of nowhere.

"How old were we when we took figure skating together?" I ask.

"Twelve maybe? It was in middle school for sure."

"Do you still have that tiny little skirt you wore?" I ask as I increase our speed.

"Ha, no. But you know how to buy clothes for me now so you can go find one. We'll role play The Cutting Edge ."

"Oh, so now I'm a washed up hockey player?" I tease as I turn her so I'm skating backwards and pulling her along with me.

"I'm obviously the ridiculously talented Olympic prospect."

"Yes, you are." I look her in the eyes and she smiles.

Her confidence grows and her skating becomes less robotic as the time passes. Aimlessly circling the ice with her feels like a luxury. I owe Crosby a pair of crocs for asking me about when I started skating. It brought my headspace back to the fun of the sport.

"I haven't just skated around in years." I tell her as she tries switching from forwards to backwards and wobbles a bit. Bringing Jo here tonight was a brilliant idea. She’s glowing and I want to bend her over the boards but I’m an adult and can control myself. For the most part.

"I don't think I've gone out to just kick a ball since I was a toddler." She smiles, proud of herself, when her second attempt to switch directions is much smoother. "But, that's what being a professional athlete is. The sport you play for fun becomes work."

"I think I need it to be fun again."

"Games aren't fun?" She asks as she continues to perfect her technique.

"Games are pressure." I say as I ride my edges along the blue line. "Practice is work. Games are about the outcome. And that was fine. I fucking thrived on it. But now, I dunno."

"Why did winning The Stanley Cup turn off your drive?" She asks, finally looking up from her feet at me.

"I don't know. It's like I got run over by a train carrying all the past work and expectations."

"Ouch." She jokes and I scoff. "What would happen if you took a year off?"

I freeze. The idea of actually stepping away from the game never occurred to me. Could I do that? Do I want to?

"I dunno." I answer honestly.

"Fair. I bet you'd have to pay back your salary or something." She skates over to me and pushes me back until I bump into the boards. "But, is that what you want? To quit?"

"No." The word comes out strong and solid. Jo smirks.

"I didn't think so." She slides backwards and continues. "You're a hockey player Bryson, always have been, always will be. And you're not just a player, you're a most valuable player. Your performance in the playoffs was a thing of beauty."

"You watched?"

"Of course, I did.” She shrugs. “I had to make sure you weren't getting too far ahead of me in the achievement department."

"I see." I smile and start skating, pushing her backwards. "So, it would actually be in your best interest if I quit, wouldn't it?"

She shrugs. "It wouldn't hurt if I suddenly became the winningest athlete in town."

"Well Killer, you better be ready to work." I smile. Jo Hamilton is absolutely the piece I've been missing. "I bet I can score more goals in one game than you can the rest of your season."

Her eyes grow wide. "Oh, you're so fucking on Svoboda." She holds out a hand to shake.

I grasp it and then pull her to me. She shrieks with laughter and I devour her joy with a kiss.