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Hero. Yeah, right.
Eloise’s words follow me into the locker room. They weren’t angry or meant to shame me. They were concerned . . . and kind.
I don’t even know what to do with that.
Suddenly I’m not an adult in a locker room, I’m six years old, wearing inline skates on the patio my dad built in our backyard just so I could practice. I hated skating until he put the stick in my hand, and once I had it, I never wanted to let it go.
I loved it because it was fun.
But to my dad, hockey wasn’t a game. It wasn’t even a sport. It became everything that mattered. A way of life. A means to an end, but what that end was, I didn’t know at the time.
And I only mattered to him when I was the best at it.
I hit all the benchmarks he set for me—from playing minor hockey in the CSS Hockey League, one of seven kids in history to enter the Junior Hockey League at age fifteen, multiple championships in the under-18 league, first round draft pick at age nineteen, Stanley Cup Champion and league MVP—but somehow, for him, it was never enough.
Never.
And boy, did he make that clear.
If he saw mistakes, I spent the rest of the night doing drills. If I missed an opportunity to score, he had me ripping shots from fifteen different designated spots on the ice for two and a half hours.
You have to be the best, Grayson. If you’re not the best, what’s the point?
I shake away the memory.
I messed up with the kids out there.
But the way Eloise disagreed with what I did, and the way she talked to me about it, was foreign. Seeing her sitting in the stands was hard enough, but if she’s going to start telling me what she thinks, that’s going to be a problem.
It dawns on me that her speaking her mind is most likely not in her job description. Which means, I could tell her not to do it.
I can hear my dad’s voice echoing in my head. “Distractions are for other players, Grayson. You let your head get turned once and look at what happened. Never again. Stay focused. Forget everything else. Nothing else matters.”
That voice drowns out Eloise’s without even trying.
There’s a reason he’s not a part of my life anymore.
I head back out onto the ice, this time alone, thank God.
We’ve got a game tomorrow. I’ve been playing like garbage ever since the trade. I wish they’d just let me do my thing out here, but they don’t trust me to do what needs to be done.
I need more practice time.
I think I’m the only one left in the entire arena, but something catches the corner of my eye.
Eloise. She’s back in the stands. Watching.
Fantastic.
I skate around for a few minutes, aware that her eyes follow me as I do. And while someone probably instructed her to stay until I leave, I’m surprised she did after our conversation in the hallway.
I don’t mind that she’s watching me.
I also realize I don’t mind that she told me what she thinks. People don’t often do that.
But I shouldn’t even be thinking about her. This is going to be a problem.
