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“I’m quite inclined to agree. Oh well, his loss. Now come on, the steak is almost cooked.”
“Sure, why not.” The food did smell good, and my diet of crackers and beer hadn’t exactly filled me up. I would need to increase my workout tomorrow to burn the extra calories.
“Carson tells me you got yourself into a spot of trouble back home,” Mr. Benson said, flipping the steaks onto a huge plate.
“Something like that.” I shot Carson a hard look, and he smirked.
“Derek is as good as family and a huge hockey fan.”
“Damn right, I am. Rumor has it, you’ve got a shot at going all the way.”
“That’s the plan, sir,” I said, taking a pull on my beer. Carson had tried to give me a soda when we first arrived, but Mrs. Benson had shooed him away and gotten me a real drink.
Thank fuck.
“You got a team in sight, son?”
“The dream would be the Red Wings.”
“Spoken like any true Detroiter.” He smiled. “Better knuckle down next season and show the scouts what you’ve got.”
“Been telling him that for the past year,” Carson said. “But hey, what do I know?”
I rolled my eyes, waiting for the full speech.
“He should have been captain last season, but we all know how that turned out.”
I bristled. I’d known I was their first choice, but I’d screwed up the season before, getting into a fight after the final whistle blew that earned me a two-game suspension. There was no way Coach Tucker could name me captain after that, so I’d spent the season licking my wounds and working on my temper.
“Cut the kid some slack, Carson. College is a lot of pressure. Throw in hopes of going pro one day, and it’s enough to make any guy falter a little now and again. What’s important is stepping up when it counts.” Mr. Benson pinned me with a knowing look. “Something tells me this is your year, son.”
“Sure, do hope so, sir.”
I wanted it. Had fucking dreamed of it since I was a kid, skating out on Lake Monroe in my hand-me-down skates and pads.
Hockey was my life, my shot at proving myself. But Mr. Benson was right; the pressure was, at times, unbearable. And I did crumble under the weight of it.
I drained my beer and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. Carson’s gaze narrowed at me as if he knew all the doubts and dark thoughts running through my head.
“Derek is right, you know. Next season is yours. You just have to reach out and take it. I’m talking a one-way ticket into the Frozen Four and getting the call-up from the pros.
“No distractions. No screw ups. Just one hundred and ten percent focus.”
“Yeah, yeah, Coach. I know the drill.”
And come the new semester, I fully intended to stick to the plan.
Although if the night carried on like this, I was going to need something a little stronger than beer.
“Oh, Dayna sweetheart, there you— What’s wrong?” Mrs. Benson rushed over to her daughter as she approached.
“Nothing, Mom, I’m fine.” Dayna smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“Is it Josh—”
“I said I’m fine.” She glanced over at us, and Carson cleared his throat.
“Smells good, Derek.”
