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And it’s the one thing I have in pucks… Still have in pucks… Just not when it comes to this relationship thing that I seem to have stumbled upon. I don’t say a word aloud, except good ol’ Priest intuits what’s on my mind. He lowers his hands and drops down onto the seat next to me. He leans forward and lowers his arms between his knees, mirroring my posture. For a few seconds, we stay that way, then he rolls his shoulders. "Life isn’t linear. It snakes around corners of heartache, pain, and suffering. It requires endurance and perseverance and every other trait you can think about and more. Oh, and a good dollop of humor, too."
"Like hockey?"
"Like hockey." He turns to me. "Fear causes hesitation, and hesitation will cause your worst fears to come true."
I frown. "Did you quotePoint Break?"
"You’re showing your age." He flashes me a smile.
"Was that a trick question?"
"There are no right answers."
"Better Swazye than Cruise."
"Says the man who’s named after Maverick."
"Shh." I look around the dressing room. "I’d never live it down if that came out."
Priest brightens. He cups his hands around his mouth and pretends to yell, "If you want to know what Rick’s full name is, it’s Maverick Mitchell, and—"
I lunge toward him, and both of us hit the floor with a thud and roll over. We end up with me straddling him, my arms around his throat. I press down, and he holds up his hands, signaling he’s giving up. I release him and he coughs.
"Not that I don’t want to fight you, but I’m the GM and you’re the captain, and I don’t condone the fighting. Not to mention,"—he twists his body, and I go flying through the air. I hit the floor with a thud, on my back, and lay stunned—"I don’t fight fair." He springs to his feet and holds out his arm.
I look at it, then up at his face. "Arsewipe."
"Wankface," he replies obligingly.
"Knobhead." I grab his hand.
He hauls me to my feet. "Shag-Bag"
I tilt my head,since we’re trading eighteenth century insults, apparently."Lobcock." I smirk.
He laughs. "Okay, you win this round."
But I’m going to lose this attempt at playing the farce that is my supposed engagement.
"You’ll figure it out." His features soften.
"Go annoy someone else on the team, man. Your mind reading skills are weird as fuck."
He winces a little. "I need to tone it down, eh?" He rubs the back of his neck. "Guess you can take the priest out of a man, but you can’t take the man from the priest—" He frowns, and I burst out laughing.
"Oh, were you that kind of priest, then?" I tease. I resist the urge to ask him how he feels about altar boys because… Well, it's not really something to joke about, is it?
He reddens. "Absolutely, not." He pauses as if he wants to say more, then shakes his head. "But you know what I mean, right?"
"Yeah." I nod slowly. "You okay, man? How’re you coping not following your calling?"
"How are you coping now that youarefollowing your calling?"
I shuffle my feet. "The jury’s out on it. I thought this opportunity is what I was waiting for, ya know? I thought once I was back on the ice, everything in life would fall back into place. Turns out, it’s only complicating things further."
"Hence the saying, be careful what you wish for. Sometimes, when you do get it, you don't know what to do with it."
Like having her in my life? I wasn’t prepared for my life to be shaken the way it has been. Not that I actively wanted to find my woman, but if I had, it would be very much a woman like Gio I’d want next to me.
