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Game time. Finally. I watched Jon settle into the face off. I knew this game would be full of tension. The hit I'd taken had sparked an unfinished quarrel between the two teams. From my spot in a private box, I could zero in on everything that was happening. As much as I wanted to look for the angel, I couldn't take my eyes off the ice.

First a defenseman had the puck, taking it wide. My eyes flicked, following the small black circle. I predicting the movements of the Leafs players as if I was playing them myself. Pass up the left, intercepted by Olli Maatta. Pass from Adam to Jon. Jon trying to take it up the ice. Heavy check into the boards by a Leafs player. Leafs forward in possession, taking it right back down ice. Pausing in right circle, setting up, shooting. Glove save by Robin, dropping it around the back of the net for Duncan.

When the line change came, I knew the shift by heart. It was my line. Adam and Connor Murphy on D, Patrick Kane on right wing, Alex DeBrincat on left wing, and Kirby in my spot. My spot. Those were my guys, who I clicked so well with. Now Kirby was in my spot, taking all that glory for himself. I hoped my teammates crushed the Leafs like little bugs. They were the reason I wasn't down there right now.

I watched Kirby sailing across the ice, dropping a puck from the air and carrying it up towards the net. The Leafs players were all over Patrick, preventing any passing. Kirby tried a quick pass to Alex, but the puck went wide and flew around the crease. I watched the tiresome back and forth of the lines, neither team gaining ground. The remainder of the first period crawled by at a snail's pace. I was anxious by the amount of dirty hits that hadn't been called. We'd dealt a few of our own, but not nearly as many as the opposition. The score was still zero to zero. I hoped we'd get onto the leaderboard after the first intermission. At least now I had a few minutes to sit back and relax. Maybe I could wander to the souvenir store and see if anyone recognized me. I doubted anyone would. I was just a rookie, not as recognizable a face as Patty Kane or Jon Tazer. I'm not even sure they had my sweater for sale yet. Didn't hurt to try, though.

I pushed through the crowd, most people blissfully unaware of who I was. Funny, you'd think all these Blackhawks fans in one place would generate at least one person who recognized my face. Especially when my face was on posters. Maybe it was because I wasn't wearing a single stitch of Blackhawks attire. I could be a Leafs fan for all they knew. A few eyes lit up when they saw me, but no one stopped my leisurely walk.

Every time I saw a blue and white jersey paired with blonde hair, my eyes immediately searched the face of its wearer. It was never her. It was silly, being so hopeful for a girl I'd probably never see again.

To my surprise, the store in the United Center carried my jersey. The white number one seemed to sparkle under my name. I lingered by the racks, soaking up the look of my sweater. Before I left the store, I nodded to the cashier. The older woman winked at me, knowing exactly who I was. I was in the middle of purchasing a soft pretzel when commotion from the rink finally signaled the end of intermission. I headed back to my box, warm and fresh pretzel in hand.

Jon took the starting face off again, sending the puck flying backwards to Duncan. Our defenseman sent the puck up the left side of the ice, resulting in an icing call. I let out a sigh at the sound of the piercing whistle. This time, Zach Smith took the face off in the circle by Robin. He lost it to the Leafs forward, scrambling to find position as the puck was wrapped around the net. I slid to the edge of my seat, holding my breath as the puck danced dangerously close to a perfect scoring opportunity. Robin's poke check sent the black circle flying away from his crease. I relaxed, silently thanking the incredible skill of our goalie.

The second period went much like the first. No scoring, but plenty of rough hits. I had no doubt a brawl was set to break out. The boys were tiring. And fast. Kirby and Adam's rotation got a chance out again, replacing the third line. I was glad to see Dylan Strome on my line instead of Kirby. The relief made me guilty, but the ambitious and competitive side of me wanted nothing more than to be higher ranked than my fellow rookie.

The second period buzzer went off. I saw the frustration on the faces of my teammates. They were giving their all. We wouldn't be caught again falling to the Leafs. I waited anxiously in my seat, ignoring the second intermission festivities. My knee bounced as I stared off into the distance. I could imagine the locker room right now. Coach talking to us, some interviews taking place, and just overall reenergizing ourselves. Kaner getting stretched out, Jon sitting with his head down, focusing and mentally preparing himself for the third period. Robin cracking his knuckles and glaring at everyone. My thing had always been pacing a hole in the floor. My heart ached to be with the men who were my brothers and my teammates. How much longer could I endure without doing the thing that generated the most drive and controlled my life?

Third period started off with a bang. A Toronto forward, Mitch Marner, speared at Robin. In defense of Panda, Andrew Shaw went after the forward. I cursed Shawzy for picking that match. Mitch was bigger than our winger, though Shawzy was feistier. I didn't have much to fear. Dennis Gilbert joined the scrum, defending Shawz with all his weight and height. Our taller defenseman threw a nasty right hook towards one of the Leafs forwards that had rushed in. The hit left the player dazed and cheers of the crowd deafening. The game quickly turned into a brawl. I knew Jon was down in the midst trying to separate players pointlessly. I caught sight of his number pulling guys off our players. I couldn't help but feel pride in the boys for showing up and presenting well. The crowd around the rink was explosive. Leafs and Blackhawks fans alike were pumping the air, cheering and shouting encouragement. I sat back, smiling slightly.

When the scrum was finally broken up, Kaner's line came out in place of the previous one. It was like the fight had invigorated my team even more. I'd never seen Stromer move so fast before. He chased the puck down the ice at blazing speed, followed on the side by Patty. And just like that, there was a perfect pass that lead to a perfect opportunity. I wasn't the only one to jump to my feet, yelling for joy. Patty Kane, good ol' Doc. He'd done it, he'd scored. Like water, he'd slipped through the defense, creating a perfect path for Stromer to pass to. Now we were winning. With eight minutes left to the period, I was confident we could hold the lead. Maybe even increase it.

Minutes continued to tick by, both teams fighting for possession. My eyes flicked across the ice, watching the puck and the players. I mumbled words under my breath, just like what I'd say at practice or on the bench. My concentration never wavered as the minutes turned into seconds. When the final buzzer sounded, I let out a whoop. What a win. I wasted no time getting down to the dressing room. It was time to celebrate.

I found the locker room blasting the AC/DC song we'd recently started to play. After every win, the song was pounded from the speakers, shaking everything. Normally I'd mind the head-pounding music, but this circumstance was different. I relished in the noise, taking in the grinning faces of my teammates. Andrew found me in the doorway, pointing a still-gloved hand in my direction. I was just able to make out the For you, kid that escaped his bloodied mouth. Mitch had split his lip, sending blood down his chin and giving our winger a bit of a crazed look. I nodded solemnly in response before breaking into a grin.

I stayed out of the way, dodging the flying jock that came from my left. I assumed it had been thrown by Alex, or maybe Dylan. Either way, I wanted no parts of the article of clothing. Especially after it had been worn for a whole game.

Coach found me leaning against the wall, watching the mayhem of the circular locker room. He smacked my shoulder with a stack of paper before assuming his position in the center of the room. He dropped the papers onto the folding table in front of him, squinting slightly and looking around the room. The music lowered as we felt his eyes. Voices hushed. No one could quite read the scrutiny of his gaze. Before nerves could rise, Jeremy broke into a grin. The room gave a collective sigh.

"What, boys? Didya think I'd chew your ears off? Good game, boys. No practice tomorrow." The team gathered cheered. There was no relief like hearing those words from the mouth of our coach. Before he left the room, Jeremy dropped close to my ear.

"I want you in my office for a moment." I was surprised.

"Now?"

"Yes, now. Soon as you can." I nodded, my smile dropping.

I followed him after a moment, giving my teammates a fleeting glance. It seemed like only Kirby noticed Coach's exchange with me. His eyes were dark, eyebrows drawn together above them in a fierce line. Sorry, Kirbs.

Jeremy's office door was partially open, waiting for me. Apprehensive thoughts tugged at my mind. What if this was bad news? I chewed my lip slightly as I entered the spacious office. Jeremy was waiting, leaning on his desk.

"Sit, kid. Not much time before I'm off to do press, so I'll make this quick." He paused, running a hand through his dark hair. "I have the rest of the team off, but I want you at the practice rink bright and early. Eight. I'll be there, so will Mike. We want to work you and get you back to best physical shape. Maybe even better. You need to jump right back into the game where you left off, but be even better. We can also figure out where your head is and decide when to clear you."

"If this is about this morning—" he cut me off, waving his hand.

"Forget about this morning. It just told us what we need to work on. We won't go too hard tomorrow. Bring your skates, and your best. Got it, kid?"

"Yes Coach." He shooed me out of his office, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I ignored the bustling activity in the hallways. I didn't feel like going back to the locker room. Instead, my feet turned towards the lot with the cars. I'd have to wait for Kirby. Again. I sighed.

&&&

At seven ten, I took the car keys from the counter. Hopefully Kirby wouldn't wake up and need the vehicle before I got back. What were Coach and Mike planning for today? I'd been working off ice the whole time with one of the trainers for weeks, but my on ice work might've been terrible. I didn't have much to go off of besides the practice from the previous morning. And we all knew how that had gone.

My head was full of raging questions as I drove through the drizzling Friday morning. I chewed my lip as I pulled into the parking lot of the practice rink. Coach's car was already here, the shiny Mercedes easily recognizable with its custom features. I parked a few spots from the dark car.

With my duffel bag hoisted over my shoulder, I headed inside. The lobby was eerily empty. I could only assume the rest of the rink would be the same. I started down the hall to the locker room, holding my bag so it didn't bounce painfully against my side.

After I'd suited up, I started up the hallway to the ice. I assumed coach would be there. I hadn't seen him anywhere else. I was early by a bit, but that was better than being late. Coach had sat guys out for being late to practices. I didn't intend to be one of those people.

There were a row of sticks by the entrance, directly next to a set of stacked pucks. I scattered the stacks with one hand before selecting a stick. The least I could do was warm up right now.

The ice was fresh and clean. I eagerly slid my way into the rink. I loved the feel of new ice under my feet. It was the best condition for skating.

My legs pumped as I skated around the boards in a few warmup laps. The loneliness reminded me so starkly of how I'd practiced when I was younger. Just me, the ice, and the puck. Now, I wasn't alone for long.

"Stretch yet?" I turned to see Jeremy, sliding towards me on his own pair of skates. He held a stick with both hands, pointing the blade down.

"Little bit. I need more." He nodded, leaving me to loosen my muscles and relax. When I was done, I faced him. He let the blade end of his stick fall to the ice.

"Right. You warmed up with some light work. I want sprints now. Ladders. Just one set for now, want to see how it goes." I groaned internally. Mike's presence caught my eye from the bench. He was watching me carefully, clipboard at the ready. He nodded to me as I caught his eye.

I lined up on the goal line, waiting for Jeremy's whistle. When the blast sounded, I took off.

An hour of sprints, edge work, shooting, and speed conditioning later, I was sore and in a bad mood. I'd performed worse than I would have liked. Nothing abysmal, but nothing like I'd been putting out in the months prior. All hopes of playing in the next day's game were dashed. I wasn't ready yet, and Jeremy knew it. It wouldn't be much longer. Just not yet. I vowed to work on what coach had suggested.

I couldn't read the older man's face as I left the ice. He never showed emotion. It was hard to know what he thought about my sub-par performance. I assumed it wasn't good. Then again, maybe he'd been expecting this. Maybe he'd known exactly how I'd perform on my own. Maybe he'd done this so I would know the truth. I couldn't be sure, but something told me the latter was the harsh reality.

&&&

It took one more week of practices before Mike cleared me. I'd never been more prepared for a game in my life. Our game was in Raleigh, North Carolina. We'd faced the Carolina team back in December, falling to them four to two. I hoped the outcome would be different tonight. I hadn't been there to help my team clinch a victory then. Now, I was back.

Usually I felt free at morning practices. Today, I felt the pressure from the coaches and fans. I had something to prove to all of them, after all. That I was as good as I was before the concussion. I felt the multitude of eyes on my back as I stepped onto the ice. Since that morning practice with Coach, I'd realized what I needed to work on and how much work it required. I'd worked myself until I felt confident enough to put on a show in practice to prove I was healed. Now, I just needed to play with that confidence.

Warm ups and the first set of drills were normal. Coach didn't put me in the normal positions, which confused and annoyed me. He was holding me back. I wanted to know why. It didn't look good to anyone in attendance that I was just standing around. It flat out said Coach wasn't confident in my recovered skills to play me in the top lines. I was aggravated. It wasn't until the last set of scrimmages that I got the orders. I was riled up from watching my teammates repeatedly take my place. The result from my temper was explosive.

We were playing a full rink scrimmage. Coach gave me the signal to fall in line with my normal line. I did, sailing over the boards onto the familiar ice. I watched the defense taking care of the puck, ready to fly forward and assist.

Adam cleared it, sending the puck flying to Patrick. My legs pumped, pushing with intense speed up the ice. I was trying to match the winger, trying to get ahead so he had a nice pass. Finally, I was in the perfect position. The second Pat passed me the puck, I took off down the ice. The defenseman were no trouble. I sliced around them, cradling the puck with ease. My legs worked furiously as I broke away from them. I approached Crawford, leering down on him. It was just him and I. A shootout, in its own way. I could read his eyes, where he thought I was going. He was like an open book. When I shot the puck in, he lunged. Where his arm had been milliseconds ago, the puck whistled by. I let myself glide into the boards. That was by far the best I'd done shooting-wise in practices so far this week. Probably even better than what I'd been producing before. I let a breath loose.

I caught Coaches eye. I understood now. He'd been holding me back to get me angry. He'd been slapping me in the face by putting other centers in my spot. He knew it would get me fired up. And he knew how I'd perform when I was angry. His imperceptible nod confirmed my suspicions. He knew I'd been worried about proving myself after weeks off. And he'd helped me show what I was made of. That I wasn't some kid on injury reserve anymore. I was Tyler Dewalt, and I was back.

A loud whoop to my left made me grin. Duncan Keith, the older defenseman I'd slid right past, was gliding up to me.

"Hell yeah, kid. Look out boys, Waltinator's back!" He brought his fist up to bump my helmet. "Good looks out there kid. You're a beaut." Duncs showering me with praises? I'll take it.

The rest of the practice was exhilarating. I felt invincible. The looming game did nothing to bring my spirits down. I was ready for this one.

Jon pulled me aside before Kirby and I headed to get food before game time. Kirby waited, looking expectant. Jon waved him off. I was just as surprised as my friend. Usually when Jon talked to us, it was as a pair.

"You did good today kid. Coach and I have been talking about you this past week. If you keep up that speed and fire in tonight's game, you have a strong chance of starting our next game." My eyebrows rose. John laughed at my reaction. "Why do you look surprised? You have as much playing time as Kaner and I. You have almost as many points this season as Pat and I combined. You deserve a starting position." My face darkened slightly. What would media say? It was just going to project their hopes and criticism even higher. I trusted Jon enough to voice my fears.

"What will press say? You know every outlet will be all over the rookie starter. I'll get a ton of shit."

"I know. And Jeremy and I wouldn't be seriously considering this if we didn't think you could handle it. I know this is daunting, with everyone expecting so much, but you can take it. You're a strong kid, and you have a lot to grow. We'll try you out on the new line this week." He clapped me on the shoulder before turning away. Before he was out of sight, he turned back. "By the way Tyler, how many points is it now?" I shook my head, smiling.

"Fifty-six." His smile was smug at my answer.

"And what's the date?"

"January third."

"And there's the answer to your worries, kid." He left me standing alone, mulling over what he'd said.

He was right. I could handle the pressure. I could exceed the hype. I'd prove to everyone I was worth the effort.