Page 33 of Home of the Brave

“Definitely salt to the wound,” Schultz agreed.

Finally, they understood.

“She really didn’t talk to you once at the Olympics?” Schultz asked.

“Nope.”

“How?” he asked. “She ate with us all the time.”

“She was focused on the women,” Hartman pointed out.

“But to never talk to our goalie? That’s weird.”

“It is,” Hartman shook his head. “I’m sorry, Henson. It really sucks, but look at where you are now. Look how far your career has come. Isn’t that the best payback for her article?”

“I guess.”

“It’s the best proof you could possibly have,” Schultz joined in. “You won the Stanley Cup, represented and won gold in the Olympics, and here you are now at a once in a lifetime event. I think that sufficiently proves she was wrong about you.”

“Exactly, you don’t get those accolades because managers and coaches feel bad for you. It’s because you’re an incredible goaltender who deserves to be here.” Hartman patted my back. “Focus on the team and enjoy the moment. Press is a necessary part of that, but Schultz and I will try to deflect as much from her as we can.”

“Yeah, we’ll make sure the other guys give her plenty of interviews so she can’t get mad.” Schultz bumped his shoulder against mine. “Now that we’ve cleared that up, can we get food? I’m starving.”

“Yes, please.” I pushed away from the table and headed back into the hall when heavy footsteps echoed.

“Have you seen Taz?” Tyson yelled as soon as he saw us.

“Before practice,” Hartman answered. “He left with the rest of the Stripes team.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“He thinks he’s funny.”

“He was the one who sewed your jersey?” Schultz asked.

I tried to keep the smile off my face, but the sight of him struggling to push his head through before practice will live rent-free in my mind forever.

“It had to be. We all arrived together, so it wasn’t someone from our team, and he was taunting me. Saying he was going to mess with me.”

“He would have had time,” Hartman chuckled, “but I didn’t know he was also a seamstress.”

“Seamster,” Schultz blurted.

“What?” Hartman asked.

“A male sewer is a seamster,” he explained.

Tyson shook his head. “Apparently, he has a few tricks up his sleeves.”

He headed toward the exit, and we slowly followed, sharing smiles but not wanting to get caught laughing at our captain.

9

VICTORIA

Ididn’t realize my hands were trembling until Cambrie put her palms over them and flattened them on the table.

I glanced around, suddenly remembering I wasn’t alone, and people could definitely witness my breakdown if I didn’t pull myself together.