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I tilted my head slightly. “What made you decide to play defense?”
“Well, a good defense is the most important element of any game. That’s when most of the points are scored—when the defenders let themselves get undressed.”
“Undressed?”
Justin grinned. “That’s what we say when someone makes a move and gets past a defenseman. You’ve undressed him. Jockstrap hanging from the rafters.”
“Ah, I see. How often do you get undressed during games?”
He laughed. “As infrequently as possible. Like most guys, I prefer to get undressed elsewhere,” he said. He leaned forward. “On that note, please let your single female readers know I’m available. I especially love older women.”
“I’ll be sure to mention it,” I said with an amused smile. I looked down at my question list again. “What advice would you give to a budding defenseman who wants to be in your shoes one day?”
Justin held up three fingers. “Gap control, gap control, and gap control,” he said. “In all seriousness, though… believe in yourself and don’t compare yourself to others. Everyone has their own path and some people bloom later than others. Like me, for instance. I was injured in my senior year of school, so when I first started my college hockey career up at UConn, I wasn’t in the lineup. It was a battle for me just to get ice time. But I kept going. Stayed consistent. And look where I am now. So that’s my two cents. Just put in the work and don’t compare yourself to others.”
“That’s good advice.”
“Yeah, I’m not just a pretty face,” Justin said, gesturing to his crooked nose and scarred brow.
I laughed, slowly shaking my head. “What’s your favorite sport apart from hockey?”
“Hmm. Baseball, I guess.”
The next few questions on the list were similar getting-to-know-you sort of queries. Justin answered everything perfectly—he was funny, chatty, and insightful. I was getting a lot of good stuff for the final printed version of the interview.
“What’s the hardest thing you’ve had to overcome in your career so far?” I asked, looking back up at him again. My chest felt tight and my pulse was racing, because I was sure I already knew what his answer would be.
The playful glint in his eyes faded, and he leaned forward and stroked his beard. “I mentioned being injured in my senior year of high school,” he said. “What I didn’t mention was that I was one of the Forrester Five. That’s how I got injured.”
I dipped my chin in an encouraging nod as he hesitated, lips twisting.
“When I woke up in the hospital after it happened, I thought I was out of the game forever,” he finally went on. “I was stabbed in the back four times. Lucky to even be alive. But I kept pushing at my recovery. Did all the physical therapy. I eventually made it back to the level I was at before the massacre. Then I got even better.”
“It must’ve been very challenging,” I said, keeping a neutral tone. “Going through something like that.”
Justin stared at me, eyes flickering with a mixture of anguish and pity. He knew that I knew exactly what he went through, but he also knew that we couldn’t talk about it right in the middle of the interview.
“Yeah. It was really hard,” he finally said. “But like I said before, I put in the work, and I made it this far. From a hospital bed all the way to UConn and then Worthington. And hey… for those of you with a dark sense of humor, I guess it’s kind of ironic that I wound up joining a team called the Blades, right?”
I actually thought it was far more ironic that Paxton joined a team with that name, but I kept that thought to myself. There was no point stirring up trouble with his best friend. Especially when that friend had been so kind and understanding toward me.
Our interview finally concluded fifteen minutes later. I switched off my phone’s recording app and smiled. “Thanks for your time, Justin. It was great talking to you.”
“You’re welcome. Did you get everything you need?” He glanced at his watch. “If you didn’t, I’ve still got a few more minutes until I have to go.”
“I got everything. Thank you.”
“Can’t wait to read the interview.” He tilted his head. “You aren’t gonna edit me to make me sound like a monster, are you?”
“Of course not.” I grinned. “That would be horribly unethical. Besides, you’re not a monster.”
He chuckled and patted me on the shoulder. “It was really good seeing you again, Sienna. What are you up to for the rest of the afternoon?”
“I have a meeting with one of my professors at two,” I said, glancing at my phone. “So I really, really hope the rain has stopped, because I don’t want to show up looking like a drowned rat.”
Justin raised his brows. “Well, let’s go and check. I’ll walk you out.”
We left the office and headed to the front entrance of the arena. At the sight of the bucketing rain outside, I let out a groan. “Oh, god,” I muttered, shoulders sagging. “I wish I thought to bring an umbrella. I really don’t want to be soaked for this meeting.”
