FOUR
SATURDAY, JANUARY 30
30 DAYS BEFORE THE NHL TRADE DEADLINE
BROOKLYN, NEW YORK
TOP TEAM HEADLINES:
Can a New Coach Save the Bruisers?
Or Is it Too Little Too Late?
—ESPN
WATCH as Hot-Headed Bruisers Rookie Tangles with Surly Captain
—Puckrakers Blog
“Again!” Coach Karl barked from the sidelines.
Leo looked up into O’Doul’s snarling face for the tenth time in as many minutes. They were doing a three-on-two drill, designed to practice those crucial minutes when the team was engaged in penalty killing. He was partnered with Jason Castro, another young forward. All the two needed to do was get the puck past O’Doul and two of his ornery, iceberg-sized henchmen.
They’d managed it a few times already, but not as many as Leo would have liked. And unfortunately, his partner had just flaked as one of their practice competitors bore down on him at top speed. He got the pass off, but it was a weak shot. Leo lunged, caught it with the tip of his stick and flicked it away again.
The puck almost sailed between O’Doul’s legs. But in the last hair’s breadth of a second, he’d closed the gap and nabbed it.
Fuck.
“Nice try, college boy.” O’Doul chuckled.
After some sprints an associate coach asked the forwards for a final sprinting drill. So Leo bore down and turned on all the burners. His thighs were screaming and his lungs burned as he wove past the cones set out on the ice. But he welcomed the challenge. Hockey was an orderly world. Sure, any game or practice had a million possible results. But there were rules, and those who didn’t follow them got ejected. For sixty minutes of timed play, Leo always knew what to expect. Hard hits. Exhaustion. He always got out of it whatever he put in.
Not like real life.
When Georgia had left him, the betrayal had astonished him. He’d loved her as hard and as thoroughly as a boy could. He’d put everything he’d had into it. Then he’d been shoved aside.
But hockey didn’t work that way. If you were the best man on that sheet of ice, you’d eventually prevail. And a good teammate was always valued.
Off the ice, a guy could have his heart broken. On the ice, you lost a game, it sucked. You won a game, it was great. And there was always another game somewhere, even if it wasn’t in the league you’d hoped.
This right here was pure living.
The final whistle blew, and Leo’s first practice with the Bruisers came to a close.
There was sweat dripping into Leo’s eyes as he took a couple of cooldown laps. Leo had skated like a wild man that morning. Not only did he need to prove himself to Coach and the team, but it helped to sweat away some of his frustration. His body was heavy with hard-won exhaustion. And nobody could say that he hadn’t put in a hundred percent.
It wasn’t easy being the new guy. Every time he made a jump in his hockey career, the bottom rung of the ladder was still a shock. In high school he’d thought he was hot shit. Then he got to Harkness College and learned a valuable lesson while getting his ass handed to him at every practice for an entire season, before pulling it together sophomore year. Things went well after that, and he’d worked harder than he ever had in his life. The reward was an excellent run in the NCAA championships his junior and senior years. They won the Frozen Four five weeks before graduation.
Achievement unlocked.
But then he’d signed on to the minor league team, and the process began again. Bottom rung. Big adjustments. He had to prove himself on an entirely new level. Last year had gone well, though. Instead of taking a year to make a real contribution to the Muskrats, it had taken him two months.
This time? He figured he had two or three weeks to prove himself. And if Coach and O’Doul both decided they hated him, even that wouldn’t be fast enough.
The team filed off the ice while Coach stood by the open door with a word or two for each player as they stepped onto the mats. “Glad to see that wrist is strong again,” he said to O’Doul. “Looking forward to working with you,” he said to Castro.
Then Leo stepped up, and Coach’s mouth slammed shut. A tight nod was all he got.
Shit.
Tired legs carried him toward the locker room. There was a big crowd at the practice rink today, and Leo had skated too hard to even notice them before. It was trippy to think that people wanted to spend a Saturday afternoon watching the team run drills.
No player ever got into hockey for the roar of the crowd. You had to love the game itself, because the first fifteen years or so was just you and your competitors. And maybe your parents, who had to drive your skinny ass to the rink in the first place. Not until college had he played in front of screaming fans, and usually he hadn’t even noticed them.
But now there were fans of all ages leaning over the chute where players passed on their way toward the locker rooms. They waved and thrust jerseys and programs toward the veterans, a few of whom stopped to sign autographs and shake hands.
Leo scanned their faces as he dragged his tired body toward the doors. There was only one person who could snag his attention right now—a certain kick-ass tennis player with long legs and wide hazel eyes.
He didn’t know what to think about her sudden reappearance in his life. She’d been so standoffish yesterday. That wasn’t like her. The girl he remembered had a bright smile and an easy way about her.
Letting Georgia go was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. And he’d only been able to manage it because he was sure it would help her be happy again. He hated wondering if she’d become a bitter person since they were together.
If she wasn’t happy, he was going to need to know why.
Leo didn’t spot her in the crowd, though. Maybe she wasn’t needed on open practice days. As the new guy, he had no clue how the organization worked. It was hard to say how long he’d be in Brooklyn. But one thing he knew for sure—he was going to talk to her, and soon. He didn’t want to leave here without knowing if she was okay. The next time he spotted her, he planned to ask for a little of her time.
When he reached the locker room, it was already loud, the guys busy with their smack talk and teasing. As the new guy, he stripped off his pads in silence, replaying the practice in his mind. His effort today had been truly solid. And he’d been having a great season with the Muskrats, so he was in top shape.
All he could do was persevere, and hope the right people noticed.
Silas, the backup goalie, sat down beside Leo. “Hey, you did all right out there. But you weren’t joking. Coach is not your biggest fan, eh?”
“Is it that obvious?” Leo pulled off his skates.