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We came to a stop outside of a nondescript door, and after peeking inside, Coach flicked on the light and held the door for me.
I walked into a small box barely long enough to lie down in. It must have been a janitor or supply closet at one point. The Blizzard blue walls and the grey carpet looked new. A single light bulb hung illuminated from the ceiling. Hansson closed the door behind him.
“Is this a good room for you to mediate in orwhatever?”
“Yes. This will do. Are you sure no one isusing it?”
He waved his hand dismissively. “No. You’re fine.”
“Thank you.”
I waited. He looked at me from his spot at the door. I leaned against the wallbehind me.
“What’s up, Coach?” I kept my voice light.
“Warren. I’m sorry to do this, but I have to know. Are you serious about this? About playing on this team? In this league?”
I didn’t hesitate.“Are you?”
His eyebrows scrunched. “AmIserious?”
“No. Are you sorry? You wouldn’t ask any other player this. I understand that you feel this is necessary. But are youactuallysorry?” I crossed my arms. The man was like a drill sergeant, something his buzzed dark hair and permanent scowl only enhanced. I met his eyes softly—not challenging him, but genuinely curious.
He paused, eyes drifting to the side, and I appreciated that he took his time to think before answering. Then he faced me, and I saw the formidable center he was decades ago. “Yes. I am. I am sorry for what I have to do. You’re not a rookie, I know that. But you’ve never played a game at this level before. I need to know if you’re going to crack under the pressure. So”—he pushed off the door—“are you serious about this? Are you going to go out on that ice and push yourself to your limit, or is this just a fun game to you? Because we’re not going to make it easy. You’re not the first woman in the league, but you still have to prove yourself. Rachel McCarthy did on her team, and now it’s your turn. You are the only other woman drafted since McCarthy. You’ll have to show the world that she wasn’t a fluke. Can you do that?”?
I dropped my hands to my sides, stood up straight, and added some weight to my stare. “Coach, I love hockey. I love it more than anything. Trust me, I’m under no illusions about how hard this is going to be, but I want to play. And no amount of bullshit will stop me. I’m not going to let anyone down. I can’t. So let me go onto that ice and prove to you that I can handle anything. And prove to the world that Rachel McCarthy is not ananomaly.”
Coach considered me. “What about the press? This job is more than just the game onthe ice.”
I waved him off. “I know how to deal with the vultures. I’m a gay woman in a traditionally male sport. If I haven’t been driven out of the game by now, I don’t think I ever will be. I can take it from the press. I can take it from the fans. Hell, I can take it from my own teammates. I have before, and no doubt, I will again. As long as I get to be on the ice out there, I can take it all.” It was a good speech, even with the little liethrown in.
Hansson slowly nodded, and I saw something impossible—his lips twitched. Then his face broke out into a huge smile. “You know, I was against signing you. I wasn’t sure if you were worth it. If you could handle the punishment. I truly hope you can back it up and surprise us all.”
“Oh, I can, sir. And by the way? Thisisjust a fun game to me. That’s why I won’t quit. I like having fun.”
“Well, hot damn. Sounds like a plan to me. I’ll let you get ready now. See you onthe ice.”
He left, and I stared at the door as it closed behind him. Hansson had a soft side, who would havethought?
I turned off the lights, settled onto the carpet floor, and practiced the breathing my therapist taught me years ago, shaking off any thoughts that didn’t have to do with winning a hockey game.
Chapter 2
It took a few hours to finish my pre-game routine, but when I was done, I was fully ready to kick ass on the ice. After my meditation and visualization, I warmed up with some stretches and did a few coordination drills that consisted of a bunch of tennis balls and a now scuffed-up wall.
Most hockey players—and athletes in general—had specific routines before games. Goalies were infamous for having the most extreme ones. While mine wasn’t as precise as, say, Braden Holtby’s, it was necessary. My mind tended to stray before games, and a routine tells my brain that it’s time to forget everything outside the rink and stop some pucks.
Loose and excited to play the game I loved, I danced to my music as I went in search of a stationary bike, needing to kill some time and stay warm until it was time to hit the ice. Mason was in the hallway outside the gym playing soccer with a few teammates. I waved at him and shimmied by, avoiding the curious faces of my newteammates.
The large gym was set up into two areas—a padded warm-up area to the left and exercise machines to the right. I circled the gym, ignoring stares from the half-dozen players in the room—three were on bikes, a couple on treadmills, and the last mid-pike stretch on the warm-up mat. I plopped onto a clean spot on the mat and ran through a few stretches. Already stretched out, I only did a few cursory exercises before getting up. There was a free bike in the corner, but before I could claim it, a faint sound cut through my music and drew me up short. I tugged out my earbuds, pausing the music, and faced the man who had entered the gym and called my name.Oh, great.
“Riley Warren. Nice to meet you. I am Alex Lukin,” Lukin greeted me excitedly with a strong Russian accent.
I paused at his enthusiasm. Teammates were never that nice to me, at least not when we first met. Lukin would have even less reason to be nice to me. He was the Blizzards’ starting goalie. I washis rival.
About the same age as me, Lukin was called up as a backup for Travis Hall when Blake Stanton, the starting goaltender, got hurt. Then Lukin became the starting goalie himself when Travis Hall was taken out of the game a week later. It was the fastest promotion ever, and while I would never wish injury on another player, the weird circumstances got me and Lukin into the NHL. But I doubted Lukin was as excited as I was about me being here.
I shook his offered hand warily. “Nice to meetyou too.”
