Page 6 of Two for Charging

“Yeah, of course. She’s going to Vancouver.”

“So?”

“So.” Matty repeated the word with the inflection people used when they thought Chris was being slow. “Vancouver’s on the other side of the country. We don’t all have fancy NHL charter planes.”

“I would pay for your flights.”

“I don’t want you to. Anyway, college will be full of girls. Better this way.”

“But—”

“Look, I’m gonna be late. Why are you calling?”

Chris frowned, bereft. He’d thought Matty would end up marrying Tabitha. Not anytime soon, when they had both finished their educations, but they seemed so solid. Chris had gone to bat for them with his parents when his dad complained that she wasn’t Italian and then again when his mom found out they were having sex at age sixteen.

“Chris?”

“Oh, right. So Phil’s going to be a coach this season, not a player. Means there’s a spare letter in the locker room. Who do you think should get it?”

Matty sighed, a blast of noise and static in Chris’s ear. “Well, it’s definitely not you.”

Chris nodded to no one. “Right. Yeah, that’s what I said. Have fun on your date.”

“Wait—” Matty started, but Chris hung up the phone.

He leaned back in the seat. Matty and Tabitha breaking up. Visits home would be so different now, with only Mom, Dad, and Matty waiting for him after games. No one to change the topic at the dinner table when Dad got going about how Chris ought to settle down with a nice Italian girl if Matty wasn’t going to. No one to kick Matty under the table when he called Chris an idiot.

And things would be different in San Francisco too. As glad as Chris was that Phil would be staying with the team, he wouldn’t be on the team. He would be sitting with the coaches on the plane, going over tape, and discussing strategies. He might eat breakfast with them, but it would be unprofessional for him to join them at bars in the evenings. This meant it was down to Tom and Jax to keep an eye on Howie when he got wasted and started word vomiting about the history of ice skating as a sport or, worse, literally vomiting. They’d also have to smooth things over when tension boiled up between Mooney and Hayes. And they’d have to plan team bonding events and make sure those plans weren’t derailed by the team’s internal conflicts or by Vanderbilt’s habit of slipping off to the bathroom for some coke. Tom and Jax could do it. Chris knew they could. They’d taken care of him when he’d gotten wasted last year. But they couldn’t handle it all alone. Even at their best, Tom and Jax couldn’t keep their eyes on a team of twenty. Chris would have to help.

He took a deep breath, just like the team’s sports psychologist Michelle had taught him when he first went to see her because it turned out skating in front of thousands of people was really stressful. In for three seconds, hold for five, release for seven. And again. And a third time.

Different didn’t have to mean bad. Last year, things had been pretty bad with Coach Trout, who had ramped up practices until they were harder than some of the games. He’d yelled a lot too. Chris didn’t mind that part. He’d rather have a coach yell at him about what he did wrong than not improve. But he knew Hayes had a hard time with it, and maybe having Phil as a coach would make it easier for him to get along with everyone.

Or maybe it would make things worse.

Deep breaths. Chris could do this.

When a loud knock sounded against the passenger seat window, he shot up in his seat. He’d closed his eyes at some point without realizing it. What a dumb thing to do.

Luca stood next to the car, one fist pounding against the window, the other shoved into the pocket of his tight jeans.

Chris fumbled for the unlock button, and Luca slid into his customary seat.

“So,” he said. “It is strange that Ben and his nephew are still living here, no?”

Chris tried to laugh it off but found he couldn’t. “Didn’t he say his apartment was being renovated last year? Maybe it took longer than they thought.”

“He also said he was a hockey coach.”

This time, Chris managed to laugh. “Right.”

For a while, they sat in silence.

Luca twisted in his seat to look at him. “The A—”

“What did you think of Lindy?”

The look Luca skewered him with was full of pity. “She seems to be a wonderful person and a competent coach.”