Jett
Despite having nightly conversations with Harrison, Jett was still playing terribly. He didn’t know what kind of mental block he was having, but it didn’t improve for the rest of training camp, or even into his preseason games.
Coach Adams pulled him aside after every game and made sure he knew thatstatistically,he could play better. And coming from the quiet and mathematical guy who never got angry, that was like taking a puck to the face.
His agent wasn’t helping his mood with her near-constant calls about everything from commercials to photoshoots, and that was his least favourite part of playing for the NHL.
Skating on the ice, getting into fights, scoring goals—those were the fun parts. It was the celebrity side to the game that he hated. He always felt awkward when he had to pose for a camera because the photographers liked to talk about how hot he was like he wasn’t standing in front of them, and it pissed him off.
His schedule was a mess since the Sunbursts lost the cup by one game last season. It spiked his team’s popularity, which had already been in the top ten, to the top five. Jett’s NHL ranking had climbed into the low numbers, which always brought new fans and opportunities.
And new…issues.
Jett now understood why Harrison hadn’t been interested in meeting him. The number of times he had been asked about Harrison was driving him crazy. Everyone wanted to know if they were childhood friends, neighbours, or rivals. There was an insane amount of comparison, which Jett found unfair since Harrison hadn’t played one NHL game—he hadn’t even had a chance to step onto NHL ice.
But because of their game over the summer, where Harrison led his cousin to victory, rumours were circling. Jett dodged every question as best as he could, but it wasexhausting.
Harrison was the only part of his day that made him feel better. Sometimes he locked Ryan out of the room just so they could share time alone, and more often than not, those conversations continued until Jett was sure Harrison was asleep and safe.
He couldn’t sleep himself unless he was certain Harrison was in his bed and not contemplating hurting himself. There hadn’t been another attempt, and Harrison admitted that the episodes didn’t happen often, but Jett still worried.
They flirted sometimes, and Jett quickly discovered how much Harrison liked to dirty talk, but he was fine with their decision not to do another video call. He was happier talking about what he was doing, the books he was reading, or how his day went, instead of having phone sex.
He felt closer to Harrison every day, but sometimes it felt pointless because he wasn’tthere.
“I’m going to visit my parents,”said Harrison, the night before Jett’s opening game.“I won’t be able to call you tomorrow night, but I’ll be watching your game.”
The last shred of hope inside Jett died, but he quickly swallowed his disappointment. “That’s alright. I’m in Calgary anyway, so the time difference will make it difficult. I’ll text you updates and we can talk tomorrow, if you want.”
Harrison sighed.“Fucking Calgary. Sébastien Blanchard still has a spot on the Colts and he’s a giant dick. Keep your eye on him.”
“He doesn’t bother me,” said Jett. “Wolfy loves picking fights with him. Blanchard forgets all about me until I’m scoring behind his back.”
Harrison hummed.
“I hope it goes well with your parents,” said Jett. He didn’t want to end the call, but he needed to rest before the game. “If you need me, you know where to find me.”
“I do,”said Harrison.“Try to enjoy the game. I know you’ve been struggling lately, but I hope it means something when I say I like watching you play at your best. So, get your shit together, Fraser. I’ll be cheering for you.”
And even though Jett still ached in his soul, he felt a little better.
“My first goal will be for you.”
Harrison laughed.“Okay, Romeo. Settle down now.”
Jett laughed with him and said goodbye, trying to ignore the loneliness creeping into his bones as he threw the blankets over his head.
Pregame nerves didn’t stop him from catching a good night’s sleep. He had woken that day feeling good, and began his pregame ritual of drinking a six-pack of Gatorade. As long as he got them all down before the puck touched the ice in first period, he was safe, but he had switched things up this season.
“Blue?” Ryan asked, watching Jett finish his third bottle after their workout. “Don’t you normally drink red?”
Jetthaduntil he spotted the electric blue colour in the store that day and was reminded of Harrison’s eyes. That had to be good luck, and since he wasn’t as superstitious as some of the other guys, he didn’t care about making the change.
His good mood carried him to the locker room that night. And for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was in the zone.
He finished his final bottle as he sat on the bench and listened to Ryan give his speech.
“I know last season will be a tough act to follow, but if it taught me one thing, it’s that we’re capable of making it to the end and bringing that cup home.”
