But just having her in my bed, knowing she’s with me—it’s going to be hard to say goodbye to this.Maybe impossible.
I pull myself out of bed, focusing on the upcoming day.I need to get to Cleveland for an early skate, then to a session with Dex.We’re watching how the early skates affect progress, and he promises me he’s been in constant contact with Marchetti about my progress.
As I run through my morning routine on autopilot, there’s really only one thing in my head: it’s late July.
And I’m losing my fucking mind.
I have mere days before my contract expires and I become a free agent.I can’t think about what comes after if Marchetti declines to keep me on with the Crushers.All I can focus on for now is forward motion.
Keep going.Keep trying.And above all, focus.
The hour drive to Cleveland disappears as I repeat that mantra to myself on a loop.
“How’s it feeling?”Dex calls out from the boards.He’s watching me like a hawk as I run through my warm-up drills.I’ve been skating recently, without including turns or sprints.I’ve also been on the ice for my weekly youth league meetups, but that equates to basically nothing at this level.Even after a decade in the league, it still feels odd to be back on a professional-grade rink, under the blaring lights.
“Good so far.”My voice sounds more confident than I feel.My body feels the weight of this progression as much as my head knows what this means.
If I fuck this up, there’s no more Crushers in my future.
I go through my drills, slowly amping up speed.Dex is watching my stride with a flat expression that betrays nothing.
“You’re pushing the acceleration,” he barks out after the next set of drills.“Just let it come.”
I ease off.I take a long, slow lap and let the cold air do what it does best: strip the noise and leave just me, the blades, and the ice.
I can do this.Because this is where I do my best existing.Hockey has always been the thing that organizes the world into something manageable.A rink has rules.The ice doesn't lie.You either execute or you don't, and I can do a million things to control the outcome.
And boy do I love controlling the outcome.
“Crossovers now,” Dex barks out then.I move into crossovers, letting my body take over, the finely honed muscle memory.My blades cut through the ice as my body works.I can feel it in the knee, but it’s strong.I’m not overdoing it.
Yet.
I remind myself to find the balance.Don’t push myself to prove something.Just work within my limits.By the end of the session, Dex is nodding.
"Lateral push is back," he says, making notes."The burst acceleration needs another few weeks.But Keegan—" He looks up."You’ll be ready.I’ll send Marchetti the updates later today.”
I try not to get too excited.There are still a hundred reasons why they could decline to renew my contract and push me into free agency.I can’t let myself believe that Dex’s clearance means a contract renewal.
Once I’m out of my equipment, I go to the gym for my conditioning session.By noon, I’m heading to my condo, where I’ve got my personal chef back in rotation for my protein-heavy lunch.This is the usual August routine—early skate, gym, lunch, recovery, and then free time.But nothing feels usual about this as I await any blip or fart from Neil or Marchetti.
Since I’m not staying full-time in Cleveland yet, I asked Juan, my chef, to deliver my prepared meals on the days I’m coming for the early skates.I find Juan’s neatly labeled containers stacked in the fridge after I enter my condo.As soon as I crack the lids, I can smell the tantalizing aroma of whatever that genius cooked up for me.He cooks for me and a few other guys on the team, so he knows what we need and just how much of it to serve us.He’s a godsend, and that’s one of the things I’m looking forward to returning to.
If my career doesn’t take a nosedive in a matter of days, that is.
As I’m unpacking the food, I call Casey on speaker.She picks up quickly.
“Hello, stud,” she breathes into the phone.
“Mmm.I can be your stud.”I already have a grin a mile wide as her voice sinks into me and soothes the anxiety from my morning.“I think I already am since you came on my tongue.”
She squeals and then bursts into laughter.“God, you’re lucky nobody else was here when you said that.”
“I don’t care if anybody hears that I know how to please a woman.”I want to correct myself—mywoman—but it seems like too much.I pop the lid off the first container—creamy Tuscan salmon over rice.The next container—a colorful salad with too many vegetables in it to count.The next container—a repeat of the Tuscan salmon, because of course I’ll need more than one small box.“What are you up to, Case?”
“Just filming,” she says brightly.“Another video took off last night so I’m recording some response videos.I just can’t believe how well these are doing!”
“I can.”I set the phone down and pop the salmon dishes into the microwave.“Did you get the monetization stuff figured out?”
