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Tom, our general manager, beat me to the open seat next to Coach Young. The two of them obviously had things to talk about and dove right into a hushed conversation.
There are only two large seats per row, so I couldn’t squeeze in and interrupt even if I wanted to. Bruce or Colby probably would, but the thought gives me that itchy feeling. Confidence on the ice is one thing, but confidence in social situations, I’m lacking. I would just make everything awkward.
I can find another time to speak with coach. Hopefully before our game tomorrow night. Meanwhile, I pull out my iPad to watch game footage from our last few games and see if I can pick out the issue.
Until Bruce slumps down in the seat beside me with an exaggerated sigh.
I ignore him, then he sighs loudly again a minute later. Closing my eyes, I remind myself that building relationships with my teammates is part of my job as captain. And if our chemistry on the ice is off, maybe the first step is working on off-ice relationships.
Opening my eyes again, I look up at Bruce and offer him a smile. “How’s it going?”
Bruce blows out a breath, sending his long blond waves flying upward. “Fine. How’s married life, Cap’n?”
I smile, trying not to let the fact I already miss Amber and Nella show on my face. “Great. Amber’s healing well from her procedure, and Nella is sleeping like champ.”
Bruce smiles back, then looks away. “I’m the only one alone now.”
My eyebrows shoot up. Bruce always seemed content to do his own thing, dating and all that. “You’re not alone. You have all of us.” I gesture toward the seats around us, the plane filled with his teammates.
“Mitch and Andie get married in a few weeks, then Colby and Noel tie the knot after playoffs. And I’ll be the only unmarried guy in our group,” he whispers like he’s embarrassed… as if he’s telling me he has herpes or he can’t pronounce the word espresso correctly.
“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” I whisper back. “I thought you liked being single.”
He scoffs. “Nobody likes being single. We’re all looking for the one, aren’t we?”
Leaning my head to the side, I study him. He appears very serious, more serious than I’ve ever seen him before.
“I’m sorry it’s bothering you,” I say, trying to remember the comforting things that are socially normal to tell someone. Things people have said to me over the years. “But you do have all of us. We have your back. And you’re a charmer, Bruce. You’ll meet the one soon enough, I’m sure of it.”
He perks up in his seat. “You really think so?” he asks, his voice still hushed. “I think it’d be kind of cool to have a wife waiting for me back home.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, I really think so.”
He finally looks down at my iPad screen and notices the paused video of our last game. “What are you looking at?”
I slide my tongue along my front teeth, thinking before answering. “Our season started so strong. We won against some of the toughest teams. Honestly, I really thought this might be our year to go all the way, to win the cup. But now, we’ve lost three games in a row, it’s not one person’s fault, but all of us, I think.” I pause, scratching my chin. “Every team has losses, but it’s something more than that. There’s something bigger going on, but I can’t put my finger on what it is. And I’m desperate to figure it out.”
What I don’t add is that I’m terrified I’m the problem. I’ve completely changed my life, which I’d choose again and again, but I’m not great with change. It upsets the delicate balance I’ve created for myself to thrive. What if that’s all out of whack now, and I can’t get the balance back? What if my autism finally ruins my career.
No. I refuse to believe that. If I found balance once, I can find it again, this time with Amber and Nella.
Bruce nods. “Play the footage. I’ll help.”
The following evening, we win our game in Anaheim, but it’s not a satisfying win. Anaheim is not a top-tier team, and we didn’t even win in overtime—we went to a shootout. But it’s a win, so I’ll take it.
As I step onto the jet for our flight from Anaheim to San Francisco, I quickly take the seat next to Coach Young. Tom always sits next to him, so he gives me a funny look when he walks past this row and takes a seat in the row in front of us instead. Bruce sits beside him, so I hope he’s ready for a chatty two-hour flight.
“Hey, Remy,” Coach Young says when he finally looks up and notices it’s not Tom in the seat beside him.
“Coach,” I say, nodding my head. “We need to talk.”
The engine of the plane whirs to life and we take off down the runway.
Coach Young waits for the plane to level out before speaking. “You’re right, I’ve been meaning to pick your brain, but our schedule is so hectic while traveling. I assume you want to talk about our losses?”
I nod again. “I know we won last night, but?—”
“I hear you. I wasn’t satisfied with that win either.”
