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I pulled my duffel out of the backseat of my truck and made my way inside.
Hank was behind the front desk. Hank was always behind the front desk. Maybe someone else sat there at night, but every dawn since I was ten years old – it was Hank. I gave him a chin nod greeting and he did the same.
“No fan club today,” he said.
“Yeah? The peewees aren’t on the ice?”
“Private coaching.”
“Nice. Thanks Hank.”
The fan club wasn’t the peewee team that I usually shared the ice with, it was their parents. Dads who wanted to tell me how my shots on net percentage tanked during the playoffs. Moms who wanted a picture, and if they managed to cop a little feel of my biceps while they did it, so it goes.
Occasionally, there’d be a pretty young thing waiting for me in the parking lot, a puck bunny up from Portland who’d heard I worked out here most mornings, looking to add my number to her list. There was a time I would have been interested, but every NHL player learned a hard lesson about puck bunnies.
Almost always more trouble than they were worth.
Hank had been managing this rink since it was built and he never asked me for anything. Not a signed picture he could hang up in the lobby, or a day to meet and greet fans to promote the rink. Nothing.
He just did his thing and let me do mine. Hank didn’t give a shit about how many goals I scored last season, or Hart Trophies I’d earned (two). The Stanley Cup? What? It’s just a big silver cup.
Hank and people like him were a huge reason I liked coming back to Calico Cove. Most of the people were real, and everyone who knew me treated me just like they’d treated me before I’d becomeThe Heart.
In the tiny locker room I changed into my workout gear. Black compression tights, basketball shorts, nylon runner’s top to absorb the sweat and a loose tank over that. The same thing I’d been wearing since high school.
Today was just a skating day. No weights. After yesterday’s heavy leg day, I needed the break. We were still a few weeks out from the start of preseason, but I’d learned the hard way over the last ten years of my career that the best way to get into hockey season shape was never to get out of shape.
Ten years? Has it really been that long?
Fuck me.
One of the dads the other day said theRword and it hit me like a puck off McDavid’s stick.
Retirement.
Not yet. Not for a long time. We had the Cup we needed to win back and I had at least one more shot at the Hart Trophy.
Retirement. Fuck that guy.
I pushed through the beat-up door that led to the ice and took a deep breath.
The ice smelled like minerals and chlorine, mud, old popcorn with a touch of dirty gear. I filled my lungs with the cool air and let out a deep sigh.
Home.The place I’d been the most comfortable for almost twenty years. Since Dad had driven me to this very rink when I was ten years old and I told him I wanted to play on the junior league team.
On the ice, there were two kids doing side by side drills with hockey sticks in their hands, passing a puck between them, while my old coach, Dan Phillips, stood behind them with a whistle around his neck.
I would stay out of the kids’ way, but if they recognized me, that was fine. It had always been my rule, day one after putting on an NHL jersey: Kids first. They got their pictures, autographs and any gear I could give them. Always.
There was nothing I hated more than watching some douchebag player brushing off a group of kids who looked up to him. As captain of my team, I made sure no one on the New England Bruisers ever pulled that shit.
Kids weren’t just the fans. They were the future too.
I removed my blade guards and stepped onto the ice. My skates were extensions of my feet at this point. This pair was only a month old, and finally, finally they were starting to feel broken in. I hated getting new skates and limited changes to only five or six pairs throughout the season.
I started with long strides but kept the perimeter of my laps short and away from the kids and Coach Phillips, who gave me a grateful nod and tapped his wrist. I nodded. Yeah, he could bring the kids by when they were done with drills.
I kept my speed steady, letting my body wake up a little.
