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I practically hear her smile and the pride in her voice as she says, “That’s true. Maybe next time you stop by then. How has your day been?”
“Fine. We landed, played some volleyball, and are relaxing for a bit before the team goes to dinner.”
Someone calls her name in the background. It takes her two seconds to say, “Brayden, I’m sorry, but I gotta go. Have fun tonight and we’ll talk later. Love you.”
“Love you too, darlin’.”
She hangs up without another word to deal with her mess back home.
In the first period, Zane makes a hit on someone. It’s a hard hit that riles up the home crowd and pisses them off, especially since their player leaves the period early. He returns for the second and third to play. But that one hit seems to spur a higher energy not only in the crowd, but within the players of both teams. We have no choice but to react to their energy. We need to match it and keep playing our game to stay in it.
It is a tight race. Momentum swings back and forth easily, but we win, thanks to a goal assisted by Z. The crowd is not happy. They are vocal tonight, particularly with Z. He is booed every time he does anything on the ice.
So, afterward, when EJ and I find out he’s spending time at the bar across the street, EJ says, “We need to check on him.” He walks through the lobby without waiting to see if I follow along. “I have a bad feeling, Brayden,” he adds as we cross the street. That doesn’t make me feel good at all, considering how he is about listening to his gut.
Turns out, he has reason to have a bad feeling. We walk into the bar to find a fan of the other team, easily known thanks to his jersey, swaying on his feet and standing before Zane. He cusses and makes comments about how Zane’s hit was dirty.
And Zane, the idiot, argues back with a beer in his hand. “You weren’t on the ice, so keep your fucking opinions to yourself. Or grab a stick and play.” That apparently pisses the fan off and he’s a step closer to Zane. Now, they both run their mouths at each other. I grab Z’s arm and yank him a few steps back from the guy. He glares when he sees it’s me.
The fan continues to go on and on about the hit and how now we’re rescuing Zane. To EJ, I say, “Make sure his tab is paid. We’ll meet you at the hotel.” To Zane, I say only one word. “Disengage.” After putting his beer down on a random table, I drag him out of the bar. He yanks his arm away halfway out.
“Don’t you know you don’t pull that shit?” I ask once we’re outside.
“Why do you even care?”
“Because he was clearly plastered. What if you pissed him off enough that he decided to hit you? You don’t argue with fans. You should know better than to egg him on.”
He stares straight ahead as we cross the street. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
“You’re my teammate; I’ll have your back no matter what. That should be obvious. I don’t know why you would think otherwise.”
He turns his head to look at me. “Yes, you do.”
Deanna. Right. Of course. “Are you saying you wouldn’t have my back?”
He hesitates in answering as we walk into the lobby. “On the ice, of course. Off it?”
I can’t help but chuckle at his uncertainty. If the roles were reversed, I can’t say I’d be certain I would feel the same as I do now. “Your history with her or the fact that you’ve texted her since or talked to her at the bar,” his eyes widen since he apparently thought I didn’t know about the latter two things, “doesn’t change the fact that you’re my teammate and we have to work together.”
Z shakes his head. “You’re better at pushing things aside than I am.”
I laugh. “No, I just focus on what I can control, that kind of thing.”
Two girls walk in, glance our way, and giggle to one another on their way to the check-in desk. “Maybe that’s what I need to focus on,” he comments. I don’t say anything. That’s not
for me to decide or to encourage. EJ walks in and Zane nods at us both. “Thanks for saving my ass.”
I shrug and EJ leaves him with a, “No big deal.” We head toward the elevators while Zane hangs out in the lobby. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s to talk to those girls.
“Hey, Dad.”
Otis and I stand a few feet away from the door where Deanna stands in front of her dad. We’re at her house, packing, and all of a sudden, there’s a knock on the door.
“Hey.” His gaze flicks to Otis and me. “Am I interrupting something?”
“Not really. We’re packing because I’m moving in with Brayden. That’s him, by the way. Do you want to come in? We’re due for a break.”
“I would like to speak to you for a moment if that’s okay.”
