Page 50 of Here We Go Again

“So we can for sure use Sanders with Miles out,” I say.

“Yeah, we can,” Jordo agrees. “I bet coach will move Fly to the first line. Maybe slot Sanders into the second?”

“He’s big,” Carter says. “He might fit better on the third with Westhoff.”

“Do you think Coach will choose an additional captain?” Holly asks.

“He will if Miles isn’t playing,” Carter says. “He’ll want three alternates.”

“Jordo, Holly. You’re up,” Maggie says.

Our conversation fizzles as Jordo and Holly move out of the tent and shake hands with their walking companions.

“Don’t forget to hydrate!” Maggie says. “We’re walking, we’re talking, and we’re hydrating!”

I drop into the camp chair Holly just vacated and put my half-full water bottle in the cup holder.

“You know, I was thinking it might be you,” Carter says, giving me a pointed look.

“What might be me?”

“Alternate captain,” Carter says.

I scoff. “Me? Nah.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s your job.” My twin brother has been captain or alternate captain of almost every team we’ve played on, and I’m totally fine with that. He’s got the steadiness, the ability to keep everyone calm and focused. He’s the one people trust. And that’s the most important part of being a good captain.

“It could be your job too,” Carter says.

I quickly shake my head. “You know that’s not my role.”

“But maybe it should be. You were great with the rookies last year. And you’re always the one keeping everyone chill in the locker room. Stuff like that matters.”

“Having the best locker room playlist does not make me captain material.” I motion to him. “You’re the one people follow.” Then I point back at myself and smirk. “I’m the one they like.”

He reaches over and punches me in the arm. “You’re an idiot. And you’re selling yourself short.”

We chill and enjoy the shade for a few more minutes until Maggie returns with the people here to walk with Carter and me. I stand and drain the last of my water.

Carter is walking with a couple of teenagers wearing t-shirts from Atlanta’s youth hockey league. I’m paired up with a father and daughter, Will and Brianna. Brianna looks like she’s probably in middle school—eleven or twelve, maybe? I’m not a very good judge, but she’s wearing a Jaguars hat and an expression that says she’s very serious about the next fifteen minutes.

When I shake Will’s hand, he makes eye contact and says, “I’m just going to apologize in advance. She plans to be hard on you.”

I lift my eyebrows, then look down at Brianna. “I appreciate the heads-up.” We head out to the track and start walking a few yards behind Carter. “Are you a Jaguars fan, Brianna?”

“Currently,” she says. “But I’m ready to root for my team in the Stanley Cup finals, so if that doesn’t happen this year, I might switch over to the Renegades.”

“Ouch,” I say through a chuckle. “Guess we’d better play our hardest, then.”

We round the bend and approach the nurse team tent, where Becca and Mia have just stood up like they’re getting ready to start walking again. I slow my pace, hoping we won’t get too far ahead. I can’t split my focus when Will and Brianna made a donation in exchange for time with me, but I’d still like to be close to Becca if I can be.

“It’s not just about playing hard,” Brianna says. “This year’s loss at the Eastern Conference Finals had everything to do with the poor performance of your power play. You were seven in fifty-two through the playoffs. That’s only thirteen percent. Your regular season number was over twenty. Thoughts on that?”

I look over at her dad, and he shrugs. He did try to warn me.

“We had to restructure our power play after my injury,” I say. “Without a lot of practice time. But we⁠—”