I’ve got this. We, the Nighthawks, have got this.
Grabbing my suit jacket from my bed, I pull it on, feeling my body center and enter a sort of Zen that I always find pregame. It won’t be until I step on the ice that I come out of this. From this point forward, I’m blocking everything out.
CHAPTER 5
SHAY
The guy talking to himself on the bench is the first player here, but I beat him, having been at the rink for almost an hour. Thirty minutes of which was convincing myself to come inside. I might have faced that fear, but I’m damn near in the farthest seat from the ice below.
I still have a long way to go before I’ll be able to stand beside it for hours, if I ever even get to that point.
My Apple Watch has repeatedly told me my heart rate is too high, but I’m literally sitting still, so there’s not much more I can do about the anxiety riddling my body. It’s about to get even worse because I told Andy I would meet him in the tunnel in five minutes, and thanks to the badge around my neck that he gave me, I can go anywhere in the arena.
A burst of air wafts up at me from the ice, the all-too-familiar cold breeze locking my body into place, my eyes slamming shut.
It’s not supposed to be this hard.
I grew up on the ice, spent my entire life in a rink. If that’s all I know, then why does being here feel so impossible?
Maybe if I had just gone back to the rink right after my accident happened, my mind wouldn’t have built this fear up into the monster it is today.
Pushing up from my seat with shaky arms, I take a small step toward the stairs and another, making my way slowly down to the main hallway and heading downstairs to meet with Andy.
One step at a time, Shay.
My hand grips the railing like my life depends on it as I finally find the bottom, turning away from the arena and stepping into the hallway.
Phew. I exhale a big breath, feeling better already now that I’m not facing the ice. Although it’s going to be damn hard, being a goalie coach when I can’t even get near said goalies.
Quietly, I find the elevator to the rink level, scanning my card that’ll allow me access to that floor. I emerge into an identical hallway like the upper floors. Well, minus from the food and beverage carts. This is for staff only.
If it wasn’t for the raging anxiety, I would feel a lot of pride in this moment, but right now, it’s overshadowed by the fear thumping in my ears.
“Shay,” Andy calls out, pulling my gaze up from the ground as I walk. “There you are.”
I swallow hard, looking up to find him and a very pregnant woman smiling at me. “Here I am.”
“You look great,” he compliments me, but it does little to help.
“Thank you. You too,” I tell him, wondering if the universe helped us practically match in burgundy suits or if it was pure coincidence.
“This is Hunter. She’s the other goalie coach.” Andy introduces us, and I smile, offering to shake her hand as I approach and stop a couple feet from them.
“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Shay.” I cringe. “Which you probably know since he just said it …”
Hunter chuckles lightly, breaking my building tension. “Don’t be nervous. This will be great. I know you’re going to be a perfect addition to our team.”
Well, that makes one of us.
“Thank you. I’m going to try.”
Andy gestures toward the tunnel leading out to the ice, and I swallow hard, my heart rising in my throat. “She’ll be shadowing us for a little while, making sure it’s what she’s looking for before committing fully.”
“Totally understandable,” Hunter agrees, spinning on her heel and leading the way.
My hands twitch, desperate to claw at my throat, as my skin grows tighter and tighter, slowly suffocating me as we near the cool air. Goose bumps break out across my shoulders as we step into the light, mere feet from the bench.
It’s fine. I’ve got this. I’m doing just fine.
