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Me: Just woke up. I’ll be out in a few.
A second later, his response comes through.
Brett: Cool.
Locking my phone, I throw it next to me on my solid black comforter and head for my bathroom, itching to be under the water and clean the sweat off my skin. Sweat usually doesn’t bother me a whole lot; however, waking up in sweat from my nightmares feels an awful lot different from when I sweat at practice because I’m exhausted on the ice.
This feels heavy, dirty. I turn the water on as hot as it’ll go and pull the valve to start the shower. I kick my boxers off and step into the scalding water.
A sigh much louder than intended slips past my lips. I’m sick of dealing with this every fucking night. My shoulders and neck can’t get any stiffer. I want to be able to close my eyes at night, just relax, and get a good night’s sleep. But I haven’t had one in years.
I lather my sponge with soap that has hints of green apple, amber, and musk. As I run the sponge over every inch on my body, my heart begins to calm, and my breathing slows back to normal.
Shutting the water off, I shake my head, trying to get most of the water out before I step out of the shower.
I wrap a soft white towel around my waist, catching right below my hip bones, and walk to my closet. I snatch a pair of SAXX boxers, black joggers, my go-to Nighthawks hoodie, and socks. I slip on the boxers and joggers. Then, I slide my arms through my black-and-white Nighthawks hoodie and shiver as my body cools off after the shower.
My phone dings, and I shake my comforter until it falls out.
Brett: Hurry up, dude.
I slip my phone in my pocket and rush to finish getting myself and everything ready.
Popping the cap on my deodorant, I swipe some on quickly before grabbing my practice bag, putting on my tennis shoes, and heading to the living room.
As I open my bedroom door, he greets me, “What’s up? You ready?”
“Yeah,” I say, feeling numb from the overexertion of emotion from my nightmares.
“You ready for tomorrow?” He smiles as we walk out of our front door.
Competitiveness floods my body when I think about tomorrow night’s game. “We are going to win, no doubt at all.”
Tomorrow, we are traveling to Minneapolis, Minnesota, to play the Mystics. They beat us last season. But that was a crazy time for Kos. He had just found Laura again and discovered he had a son. It wasn’t only his fault that we lost. But it hurt us a lot that his head was out of the game. So, this time, we aren’t getting off that ice without a win.
I smile with the energy of tomorrow already dancing across my skin. Hockey is the only place where I feel right, like me.
“I feel good. I bet Kos is fucking thrilled to be going back,” he says.
“That’s for sure. He’s out for revenge.”
After a quick stop into Dick’s Sporting Goods for a new pair of joggers for Brett, we head to practice, which goes by faster than I would like.
Coach calls us in, and we hustle over to him for his end-of-practice speech.
“Our plane is leaving at eight o’clock. All of your asses had better be in your seats by seven forty, or when we get back, I will make you skate suicides until you puke. Am I clear?” he asks.
“Yes, sir,” we answer collectively.
“Get out of here. Tomorrow, we will whoop the Mystics’ ass.”
“Kos,” I call out so he knows I’m free to take the puck as we fly down the ice.
No defenders are between us and the goalie as Kos, Brett, and I skate into our zone. Brett and I swing wide as Kos brings the puck down the center. Brett drives toward the goal, and Kos passes the puck to me. As Brett wraps around the goal, Kos slaps his stick on the ice on the opposite side of the net as Brett.
I can see the play before it happens. As Brett crosses the threshold of the side of the net, Kos confuses the goalie, calling for the puck. The goalie favors Kos’s side, and I slap the puck into Brett’s stick. At lightning speed, he wraps it right around the corner of the pole and right into the net.
The buzzer sounds, and the arena erupts in cheers as we tie the game one to one. We fly into Brett, chanting words of praise and happiness. The energy is contagious.
