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“Let’s see,” Trent retorts, sounding unconvinced.
Damn him.
Doesn’t he know Laurie is listening?
What the hell is he doing?
“What does Nate do exactly?” Lottie asks, showing how green she is to hockey.
But again, before I have time to teach her, Trent swings in and beats me to the punch.
“Wilder is what you would call a grinder.”
“And what does a grinder do exactly?”
“They are the guys that keep the puck in play,” he explains curtly.
“What Nichols means,” I interrupt, since it’s apparent Trent is useless at giving more than a few bullet points, “is that Nate’s role is to go into the corners to dig out the puck and then set up goals by getting the puck to the team’s offense. He’s responsible for winning puck battles along the boards and delivering crushing hits while focusing on forechecking, backchecking, and creating turnovers. He plays a crucial role in wearing down opposing defensemen and creating scoring opportunities for his teammates. In other words, Nate willingly endures loads of physical abuse by the opposing players just to get the puck in the right hands.”
“Sounds to me like Nate has the worst job on the team. Doesn’t he get hurt?” Lottie asks, and the worry in her eyes reflects the same I feel inside.
“Nate can handle it.”
“Maybe that’s why he’s been seen in the papers lately about his anger problems. Getting paid to get beat up in every game can’t be fun. Could be he’s lashing out at everyday civilians because he needs an outlet for all that pent-up rage,” Laurie says out of the blue.
“Nate isn’t like that,” I quickly defend.
Shit.
If Laurie is already talking like this, then I have my work cut out in regards to undoing all the media brainwashing that’s been done to him.
I can’t have him thinking that Nathan is some kind of barbarian.
“He’s a professional,” I add assertively, leaving him with no room for a comeback.
“That he is,” Trent chimes in, mimicking my stern tone. “Any hockey team worth its salt needs a balance of good offensive players as well as grinders, and the Guardians have both in Donovan and Wilder.”
I could fucking kiss him right now.
“I stand corrected.” Laurie smiles, turning his attention back onto the rink. However, when the crowd begins to boo Nathan anytime his stick touches the puck, Laurie suddenly has more to say on the matter.
“I think your player is in trouble. Seems to me like your star grinder is no longer the fans’ favorite. That’s very telling, don’t you think?”
“It’s the first game. He has time,” Trent refutes.
“Does he?” Laurie cocks a brow. “Seems to me the fans have made their sentiments quite clear.”
“Then I guess it’s a good thing that I’m the GM and not one of the fans,” Trent replies, his lips pressed in a thin line.
“For now,” Laurie mutters, ensuring everyone hears the warning.
I feel Trent’s usually cool and calm composure start to crack under the not-so-subtle threat. Before he has time to say something that will put his job in peril, I discreetly lace my fingers with his and give his hand a light squeeze.
Trent’s back goes ramrod straight, holding onto my hand like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. I focus on his breathing, counting each deep inhale, mimicking the beating of my heart. When his shoulders finally relax, and I’m sure he won’t say anything that may lay him in hot water with the new owner of his beloved club, I pull my hand away.
I watch his lips dip into a frown now that he’s been deprived of my hand. As the first buzzer sounds, announcing the end of the first period, I don’t say anything when Trent makes an excuse to sit next to Rex for the remainder of the game.
Chapter 15
