I grimaced and braced myself for the news. Up until I’d seen the devastated expression on Axel’s face, I’d been confident I’d made the team, but that very confidence eroded with every passing minute. My preseason play was as good as any rookie’s, and better than many of the veterans’ performances. I’d done everything asked of me by the coaching staff, laying my heart and body on the line to make this team.
Getting sent down wouldn’t be the end of the world and only meant a player needed more development time, but I’d wanted to be one of those guys who didn’t have that happen. Besides, in my way of thinking, I was already behind most of my peers. I’d played four years of college hockey and had sat out an additional year for an injury, which equated to more development time than most of the players in rookie camp. Five years spent at the college level. In some ways, maybe I’d been stupid to go that route, but at the same time, I knew in my heart I’d done the right thing for me. The injury had shown me I had what it took to come back and deal with adversity.
Drawing in a deep breath, I steeled myself for whatever was to come and opened the door.
Coach Gorst glanced up from his computer monitor and waved me toward a seat. “Be right with you, Easton.” He tapped on his keyboard for a very long, excruciating minute. I studied his face, but he gave nothing away.
Gorst was relatively young in the world of NHL coaches. I doubted he was even forty yet. When he’d been hired by the Sockeyes four years ago, his coaching methods had been progressive and unorthodox. With the success he’d had, including winning the Cup last season, many other teams duplicated his approach to coaching.
He was fiery, tough, and had high expectations. He was known for his ability to get the best out of his players by capitalizing on their strengths and improving on their weaknesses. He emphasized basics, such as good skating and using your edges like a figure skater did. He even employed figure skaters to teach the finer points of skating.
I’d been the model student for Gorst’s teachings, never complaining and always giving 100 percent, yet here I was, worried I might not make the team. I clasped my hands in my lap, gripping them so hard that I was cutting off the circulation. Loosening up the viselike hold, I took a few deep, calming breaths.
And waited.
Gorst looked up and pushed his chair away from his desk. He rose and crossed from behind the desk to sit next to me at the small conference table in his office. There were a few short raps on his door, and he shouted, “Come in.”
Team captain Isaac “Ice” Wolfe entered the room and took a seat next to Gorst. His face wore its usual stone-cold expression. He’d earned his nickname. I couldn’t recall him smiling once during our entire training camp. Usually, he was scowling.
“Easton, your stats are some of the best in the nation for a rookie. Hell, even for a veteran.” Gorst’s words almost seemed rehearsed.
Did I hear a but in there? I tamped down my growing excitement and forced a neutral expression on my face. Now my fingernails were digging painfully into my palms, but the pain didn’t distract me from this man who would set the course for my future with his next words. I glanced at Ice, who scrutinized me intently, as if gauging any signs of weakness. His scrutiny only amped up my nervousness. I was sweating now. If they kept me in suspense much longer, sweat would be trickling down my brow.
“You’ve become a valuable member of this team in a surprisingly short time,” Gorst continued, then gave Ice a nod. Being valuable had to be a good thing, didn’t it?
Ice cleared his throat. Was I hallucinating, or was there a ghost of a smile on his face? “I’ve watched you develop throughout training camp. You keep your head down, work hard, don’t cause any problems. You’re a good teammate, and I’d be proud to play beside you.”
“Thank, uh, thank you.” I was fucking going to faint. I put my hands, palms down, on the table to steady myself as my world began to tilt and lurch like a carnival ride badly in need of repair.
“Welcome to the Sockeyes.” Gorst ended my torture and stood. He held out his hand. I hauled myself to my feet and shook his offered hand. They were smiling, both of them, and all the tension poured out of me.
“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” I was gushing, but neither man appeared to mind.
Ice shook my hand next. His grip was strong and sure. “Congratulations, Big E. You earned it.”
I opened my mouth to say thank you again and snapped it shut. Ice was a man of few words, so I nodded instead.
“Do you have any questions for us?” Gorst asked.
“Uh, not right now. I can’t think of any.”
“Good then. Stop by personnel and fill out the necessary paperwork. We’ll be seeing you on the ice.”
I’d been dismissed, and I wasn’t about to overstay my welcome. I hurried for the door, tripping over a chair leg in the process, and flailed my arms to get my balance. Reaching the door, I let myself out without looking back. I was too elated to be embarrassed.
I wanted to race down the hallways shouting out my good fortune to the rooftops. Instead, I forced myself to walk slowly to the elevator. I hadn’t planned it, but seconds later, I stood in the empty locker room in front of the stall with my name on it. My stall. I was a Sockeye. I was a professional hockey player.
The first thing I was going to do was make an appointment for one of those fish tattoos all the guys sported. Then I was calling my mother and my two hockey-playing brothers.
Tonight, I was celebrating.
For a moment, my joy was dampened when I realized my best buddy on this team, Axel, wouldn’t be celebrating with me. I’d still invite him, of course. He was young. He’d make it. Guys got traded, or injuries prevented them from taking the ice. Not that I’d wish an injury on anyone, but that shit did happen.
I dialed my mother. Mom was as excited as I was. Mom had been the consummate hockey mom after my dad had died and she’d been forced to raise us on her own. She’d gone to every game when we were kids, not an easy feat considering there were three of us, but she managed to juggle her responsibilities and support us at the same time. She was a computer programmer and made pretty good money.
My brother Zane was starting his third year in the league. My younger brother, Max, played junior hockey and lived at home. Mom would tell Max.
After I hung up with Mom, I called Zane. He answered on the first ring as if he’d been waiting for my call. “Well?” he said, not giving me a chance to say hello, how are you, or fuck you.
“I’m a Sockeye,” I blurted out. Zane let out a whoop, enjoying this moment almost as much as I did. I heard him say something and then heard clapping.
“Where are you?”
“I’m having lunch with some of the guys. We’re all happy for you.”
“I did it. I really did it. I’d worried so much my choice to go to college might screw with my ability to make a team, but in the end those five years didn’t hurt me one bit.”
“You made the right choice for you, E.”
“I did,” I said proudly. I could’ve followed in Zane’s footsteps and gone the major-junior route. Things had worked out great for him. Now they were working out for me.
All those hours of practicing, playing through injuries, and sacrifice culminated in this moment. I’d worked my entire life to be here and allowed nothing and no one to stand in my way.
Caroline point of view
It’d been a month since I’d gotten the devastating news from the DNA test. I hadn’t talked to Easton yet; instead I’d worried myself into an absolute frenzy of fear, dread, and loathing of my own shortcomings. I conjured up all kinds of scenarios in my head, and most of them weren’t good. What if Easton didn’t want to know his kids? Even worse, what if he took me to court for custody? I’d never have enough money to fight him legally. What if? What if? What if?
No matter what, I knew I had to tell him. My life had been put on hold until I told him, as had Fran and Howard’s. They weren’t leaving me for their well-deserved retirement until we’d resolved this. And what would be the resolution? Once Fran and Howard left, there was nothing to keep me here. I had so many questions and zero answers.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
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