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“We’ll see about that, Cookie. See ya tomorrow.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
REED
My body feels like it’s been driven over hundreds of times. I didn’t want to let on that I was tired as fuck. It doesn’t matter that I skate nearly five miles a day, run three miles on most days, and lift weights every day. This is a different kind of exhaustion—it’s mental.
Wanting Caleb to have fun with me had me doing everything he asked. And when he threw a fit, finding a way to calm him was nerve wracking. Top that off with trying to get his nap in like Brooke asked was no small feat for a guy who had babysat one time in his life for three hours.
It takes a monumental effort to drag my ass out of bed for our early morning practice. I grab a pod and feed the Keurig. Peering out the kitchen window, it’s pitch black, and the sun won’t rise for a few hours.
In Michigan, where I played before transferring, our arena was dedicated to college hockey. Yes, they had some leagues during the off-season and junior training camps but while it was college hockey season, we were the only ones who used the arena.
However, at Kentucky, we lease out our facilities with the monies going towards our travel budget. Our schedule necessitates conducting early morning practices due to various activities such as figure skating lessons, exhibitions, and junior hockey practice. Even though we could practice later in the day, Coach wants to adhere to a routine by having it at the same time every morning. This way, normal morning hours are clear for classes, and afternoons for weightlifting and study hall. On the days when the facility isn’t being utilized, Dawes, Flynn, and I take advantage of the opportunity to engage in additional practice sessions. We want to stay on the first line.
With thirty pounds of gear slung over my back, guys from the hockey plex file in at the same time. There’s not much talk when we first get to practice. A few of the guys probably drank half a bottle of bourbon or tequila last night.
It’s five forty-five a.m. and the only sounds are metal lockers slapping against its frame, the occasional grunt or sigh, and the sound of our gear being tugged up our legs or over our heads.
During warmups, Flynn asks, “Where were you yesterday? You didn’t come to study hall or to the plex. We were supposed to play poker.”
“Jesus, Flynn. You’re not my babysitter.”
He scoffs, and it turns into a short cackle. “Funny you should use the word babysitter.”
My head whips in his direction. He can’t know about Caleb and Brooke. Well, he doesn’t know Brooke is the coach’s daughter.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask through gritted teeth, keeping my voice low.
He skates off, raises his hands, and shrugs his shoulders with a knowing smile. But how?
Our assistant coach blows his whistle, and we line up on the goal line. The first line, three forwards and two defenders skate as fast as we can to the opposite goal line and back. We rotate through until we’ve done it ten times. I try to talk to Flynn, but he’s avoiding me on purpose, talking to guys on the other lines.
Two straight hours of sweating even though it’s cold as fuck. The assistant coach skates over before I come off the ice and asks me to see him in the office. Then he looks at Flynn and Dawes and says, “You too.”
I strip my clothes off and take the quickest shower ever. I need to go straight to Brooke’s so she can leave for class. What will she think if I bail on her on my second day of watching Caleb?
“Come on, dammit,” I shout at my two friends.
“What’s your hurry?” Flynn pulls his hoodie over his head and slips his feet into the ugliest slides I’ve ever seen.
“Where did you get those shark slides? You act like you’re fifteen.”
Dawes slaps my back as we walk through the doors to Coach’s office. “Because fifteen was fucking fun.”
Yeah, I was free at fifteen.
“Fellas, have a seat.” We look, and there are only two chairs.
“We’ll stand. I have an appointment at eight thirty.”
He grabs a clipboard from the desk and mulls over it. “Okay, I’ll make this quick. Wynward is out for a few more weeks, and all of you are being promoted to the first line permanently unless you do something to fuck it up.”
Dawes immediately says, “Thank you, sir.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
“Okay you can go. Don’t miss study hall today, Bauer.”
