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The unexpected compliment has my brows snapping together in confusion.
“But I’m not seeing that translate onto the ice.”
Ah. There it is.
That’s more of what I was expecting.
“So tell me, what happened? Why aren’t you playing at the level we both know you’re capable of?”
That softly spoken question feels like someone pulling a plug until I’m deflating before his very eyes. I can only slump in my chair as that question circles viciously around in my brain before dragging a hand down my face. “I don’t know what’s going on.”
As difficult as it is to admit, even privately to myself, he’s not wrong. I’m not playing at the same level as last season. My game is off.
When I remain silent, lost in the chaotic whirl of my thoughts, he continues. “That’s something you need to figure out. Your performance needs to improve. You’re better than what you’re showing me out there and we both know it. The problem is that Chicago knows it too. I don’t need to tell you how important this season is in regard to your future. The last thing I want is to apply more pressure.”
Yeah, well…it’s a little too late for that.
Sometimes it feels like the entire fucking world is resting on my shoulders.
And him acknowledging it doesn’t make it better.
Only heavier.
More soul crushing.
“You’ve been distracted. And I get it. You’re young and this is college. It’s the last year before you play in the pros or find a job.”
A pit the size of Rhode Island takes up residence at the bottom of my belly. The thought of Chicago not signing me after graduation makes me gut sick.
“There’s school and hockey,” he continues. “That’s it. Eliminate the other distractions.”
When I open my mouth to argue, he holds up a hand and cuts me off.
“I don’t want to hear it. Bullshit will always creep in at the edges. You’re to the point where you need to decide what’s important and that’s what you focus on. If you’re out partying every weekend, knock it off. At least until you get your shit figured out.”
“Yes, sir,” I mumble. There’s no point in arguing.
“And if you ever pull that BS on the ice again, I’ll bench you.” His steady gaze stays pinned to mine. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal.” I glance down at my hands as they twist together in my lap. “I’m sorry about that. It won’t happen again.”
“I’m going to hold you to that promise.”
When there’s another knock on his door, I pop to my feet, ready to get the hell out of here.
One of the assistants sticks his head into the office. “Hey, Coach. You got a minute?”
“Yup. McAdams was just on his way out.”
No need to tell me twice.
“Thanks, Coach,” I say as I cross over the threshold.
“No problem.” There’s a pause. “And Ryder?”
I grind to a halt and meet his eyes. “Yeah.”
“If we got off on the wrong foot at the beginning of the year, I apologize for that. This position has been a transition for everyone. I want you to know that my door is always open if there’s anything you want to talk about. All right?”
