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“You don’t suck.”
“The article Deeley read says otherwise.”
“Stop reading that trash.” Zanetti sat on his left. “It’ll get into your head. And hey—we’re only three weeks into the regular season. There’s still lots of time for you to turn things around.”
“I just want to feel like I’m contributing.” Eli rose and pulled on his pants. “But I haven’t scored a goal since the pre-season.”
“Care for some unsolicited advice?”
“Of course.”
“First of all, stop reading trash articles. Nope,” Zanetti snapped when Eli opened his mouth to argue. “Just do it, Eli. Cold turkey. And second, stop saying yes every time someone asks you for something. The season’s barely started and you’re already worn out from all the charity appearances and engagement activities and social media reels the PR team wants you to film. Remember what Hughes told you last season? You’re allowed to say no.”
Sure. In theory. But Coach Madolora had taken a chance on him by calling him up from the minors last season, and Eli wanted to make him proud. And that meant showing up not just for his coach and his teammates, but for the fans as well.
Everyone wanted a piece of him, but that was okay—there was enough of him to go around. He’d learned that last season.
Although he’d actually been able to find the back of the net last season.
“Right.” He nodded to show Zanetti that he’d heard him and buttoned his shirt. “But sportscasters sure were quick to label this season a sophomore slump, huh?”
“Eli.” Zanetti flicked his arm.
“Ow.”
“Stop. Reading. That. Bullshit.”
“Fine, fine. Jeez. Hey, what’d you get me for my birthday?”
Scoffing, Zanetti rose and tugged his car keys out of his pants pocket. “Who says I’m getting you anything?”
“You got me a Christmas present,” Eli pointed out, slipping into his shoes and following Zanetti out of the locker room. They’d carpooled together earlier since they lived in the same townhouse complex. “And it set the bar real high, FYI. How are you going to top that?”
“I’m not,” Zanetti said with a laugh. “I’m going to manage expectations and tell you not to expect anything more than a birthday text.”
“Aw.” Eli pretended to pout.
It wasn’t like he’d expected Zanetti to gift him something as expensive as a car ever again. Hell, the car covered at least ten years’ worth of Christmas and birthday gifts, even a fifteen-year-old one. Zanetti had had the engine replaced last fall before purchasing himself a brand-new luxury SUV and gifting his old one to Eli. Eli probably shouldn’t have accepted it—it was a huge gift—but his own car had smelled like pee and hamburgers, neither the heat nor the AC had worked, the sunroof could open but not close, and it had been held together by wishful thinking. Eli had taken to riding his bicycle everywhere until the weather had turned and the snow started.
Zanetti’s car couldn’t have been more timely.
RIP, pee-mobile.
Still, he did like receiving gifts, and knowing Zanetti like he did—he was a family man through and through, and the Trailblazers were his family as much as his biological one—Eli had a feeling he’d be getting more than a birthday text.
He skipped ahead to push open the door to the parking garage, then turned to face his teammate. “You could at least treat a boy to breakfast on his birthday.”
Lips twitching like he was trying to hide a laugh, Zanetti nodded at his SUV. “Get in, Eli.”
Grinning, Eli did.
chapter
three
Eli walked into his favorite café behind Zanetti the following morning and inhaled the scent of coffee. Housed in a brown-brick building halfway between the Church Street Marketplace and the University of Vermont, the café was packed with college students and families enjoying a Saturday morning out. At nine o’clock, there was already a line out the door, but Zanetti bypassed it.
“Uh . . .” Eli trotted after him, side-eyeing a grinning skeleton sitting on the end of the order counter, one of the restaurant’s many nods to Halloween. “Maybe we want to go somewhere else? I mean, I guess we could order our meals to go and head back to my place.”
