Chapter 23

twenty-three

GOING WITH MY GUT

E verything about today has felt different.

My game day routine has changed over the years, but it’s always been a slow progression. Adding a new element here, growing out of another one. Changing the food I like to have for breakfast or lunch.

Never like this.

Nothing about what I used to do feels right. Maybe it’s time for a complete overhaul.

Not wanting to get out of bed until I make a plan for my day, I spin the bracelet Emery gave me around, rubbing it between my two fingers as I think. I haven’t taken it off since she gave it to me save for when I’m in the shower. Getting lost in my memories of her is all too easy.

That’s it.

I’ll do whatever feels natural, like how I am with Emery and we can build a new routine.

Nothing about my life or who I was at Everleigh feels like a part of me any longer. It’s not as simple as cutting off that piece of me. I’ll never be able to part from the years I spent on that campus and the way that it shaped me, but it feels like a past life. A different Xander.

A fresh start here is what I need.

Starting and ending with Emery.

I kiss the bracelet on my wrist, sinking into the memory of Emery’s note. That feels right.

Before I even climb out of bed, I grab the note from the drawer next to my bed and read it again before kissing the piece of paper and keeping it in my hand as I send her a good morning text.

That’s where it stays, gripped in my fist, as I get dressed and then I slip it into my pocket where it’ll stay until I change for the game and I’ll find a safe spot for it in my gear where it won’t get destroyed.

Downstairs, Isla and Tor are making breakfast. As soon as I sit next to Tate, a cup of coffee is put in front of me. They aren’t always in the kitchen in the morning, but damn am I thankful for when they are. I’ve never joined them for a game day breakfast even after I moved in with them and they invited me. It felt like something reserved for the team. At least for the guys who live here plus Tate and sometimes Wilder and Zac.

“You’re early,” I mumble around my cup of coffee.

He yawns, his eyes not fully open yet. “I get to nap today,” he justifies but I know that’s not the reason he’s here so early.

“I’m fine,” I assure him. “But my routine doesn’t feel natural anymore.”

Everyone freezes, turning their attention to me with wide eyes. I chuckle. It was my first reaction this morning too when I realized I didn’t want to have oatmeal and eggs for breakfast and the thought of having a diet coke with lunch made me want to put my head through a wall.

“Relax,” I tell them. “It feels like a new beginning. ”

Isla points her spatula at me. Isn’t that like super rude? “That doesn’t sound bad.”

“It is a new beginning,” Torryn deadpans.

Tate trades weighted looks with Beau and Baylor, who are the only other players awake. “This could be a good thing,” he says cautiously.

“It feels like a good thing,” I agree, sipping more coffee.

The rest of the day follows in a similar pattern. Some of the things I change, feel right, while others feel less than perfect. But nothing feels wrong and an energy begins to build in my body as the day goes on.

Each minute closer to the game, I’m feeling more energized. Anticipation thrumming in my veins.

When I walk into the locker room, I can feel Tate’s eyes on me as he observes me. I’ve always put my gear on in the same order. Left to right. Bottom to top. I sit on the bench, forcing myself to take deep breaths and not lose my head in the adrenaline of the upcoming game.

What feels right. What feels natural.

It’s been a mantra in my mind all day long and it’s carried me through each point where I had to make a decision that would have normally been a part of my routine.

I take a deep breath. Guess we’re going right to left today. At least bottom to top is still the same. I would feel like a psychopath going top to bottom.

Tate exhales brashly. “This is weird, bro.”

“Focus on your own routine, Captain,” I chirp and he rolls his eyes. Paying attention to everyone’s routine is a part of his routine.

After getting dressed I find Emery’s note and debate where I could keep it. Everywhere I can think it would stay and I wouldn’t lose it, it would probably be ruined with sweat. It’s too important to me to risk it .

I leave it in my locker and finish getting ready for pre-skate.

Warm up follows close enough to the way we start practices, enough to get the blood pumping and our muscles loose. I pass with my defenseman partner as we skate across the ice. We have good chemistry, but not great. Not like what I had on Everleigh.

That will always be a part of why it took me so long to finally see who my teammates were. I was just happy to have a team that felt as good playing on as the team I grew up with.

The difference at Westbrook is already palpable. How everyone works together and pushes each other to not only be better on the ice, but holds each other accountable off it as well. Even the guys with little to no ice time never slack off while the guys on the first and second lines always make time to work with them on different skills.

It starts at the top and trinkles all the way down through every person wearing gray and orange and I respect the hell out of Tate for his part in building that culture.

Before I know it, we’re being called back off the ice and into the locker room. I linger around my locker, pulling Emery’s note out and rereading it for at least the hundredth time today. No matter what happens on the ice, someone believes in me. Someone sees the best in me and knows I deserve this spot on the team, even if it’s brought a ton of questions and criticisms from those who watch college sports.

It’s been easy to forget people are waiting to see me fail tonight, because my teammates and coaches have never once doubted my skills or performance. But I know they’re out there and will be watching tonight and maybe for the first time ever, that doesn’t bother me.

I’ll prove them all wrong and trust Emery’s faith in me. I fold the note back up and put it in my locker, my confidence in myself reinforced.

The fifteen minutes between warmups and pre-game introductions are usually where most players have the most superstitions. Today is my first time getting to see these guys’ habits, and it’s eye-opening to say the least.

Game day brings out a different side of all of us. It’s part of being an athlete.

I’ve never seen Baylor so quiet before, his headphones in as he sits alone on the bench, retying his laces. I used to isolate before a game, but the chatter all around me is somehow comforting. Guys give each other a hard time while Wilder and Zac make bets on which jerseys Colby and Emery will be wearing tonight.

Emery will be in mine. No bets needed. She’ll continue being in mine too if I have anything to say about it.

Tate watches over everyone, but he bumps my shoulder. I put my fist out for him to bump and he grins, a call back to our high school days. We do a handshake that feels as ridiculous as the day we made it up when we were drunk, but it makes me feel lighter.

Beau can hug Tate as much as he wants, but does he have a secret handshake with him? Okay, well maybe not that secret since Beau is watching us with narrowed eyes. He’s definitely going to do something ridiculous on the ice now.

Coach puts one hand up in the air and Wells taps Baylor’s shoulder exactly as he pulls the headphones out of his ears and throws them and his phone into his locker. I press my fingertips to the note on last time before shutting my locker and locking in to what Coach says.

“Alright boys, it’s our first game back from a break and it’s time to remind everyone who the Wolves are. We are not six players on the ice. We are one team. One unit. We communicate and feed off of each other. We anticipate and react to every other player on the ice because we know we are never alone out there. Now let’s go out there and show them why it’ll be us in the finals.”

I crack my neck, pumped and ready to do exactly that. It’s been so long since I had this feeling, since there was this raw energy pulsing through me, the need for violence clawing at my skin.

As we walk out as a team, Beau knocks my shoulder with his, a smirk on his face. I’m half convinced he’s about to be an asshole about the handshake, but instead he’s an asshole about my position.

“Enjoy your easy day today on the second line.”

I roll my eyes, flipping him off and he laughs. If Baylor needs the quiet before a game, Beau needs the connection.

“Next week, you better be where you’re supposed to be,” he continues.

I look him up and down. “You hitting on me, Pierce?”

His face lights up in amusement, pushing on my chest, and making kissy faces at me. “I just want a big strong man like you at my side.”

I’m not the only one who laughs. Even Tate cracks a smile as he shakes his head. He can’t show how much he enjoys our shenanigans before a game. There are always downfalls to being the leader. One of the many reasons I could never be captain. As my former coach put it, I’m too much of a jackass.

Introductions start and we fall silent as each guy skates out onto the ice and does his thing. I’ve always been a show off, reveling in this moment to hype the crowd for my team and my performance. I wanted the eyes on me, the crowd to know from before the game even started who was the player to watch.

Defense isn’t always the glamorous position. We don’t end up in highlight reels as often as our wingers or center or even goalie. Often we’re the ones making plays that change the speed and outcome of the game, but they’re under the radar. Not flashy. Easy to miss.

I never wanted people to miss it. I wanted the crowd to know exactly what they were watching and who was driving the plays on the ice. I wanted to be acknowledged by more than my team and coaches.

As they call my name and I begin my circuit around the rink, I realize maybe the biggest thing about myself that has changed. I don’t care about any of that anymore. I care about my team, my coaches, and a girl with baby blue eyes who doesn’t even realize how much she twists me up inside.

I search for the seats where I’ve been sitting by her side all year and my heart beats a little faster when I see her watching me, awe and adoration in her gaze while she cheers for all she’s worth. Louder than she’s ever cheered for her brothers.

Keeping my eyes locked on her, I bring my wrist to my mouth and kiss where I know the bracelet is under all my gear, tap the hollow of my neck where the necklace I gave her hangs on her, and point to the sky.

This game is for her.

For my sunshine.

I reach the bench and take my seat, feeling better than I ever have before a game. I do fucking wish I was at Beau’s side tonight. It’s impossible to argue against what was a right call made by my coaches, and I respect their decision. But damn. I’m ready to play.

The beginning of the game is fast. The short break hasn’t stopped either team from showing up ready to fight and the puck is in pretty equal possession of both teams. Neither team looks as clean or as sharp as they could be, but it makes for a very physical game. Players relying on their strength and grit to get them through the sluggishness after a break that impacts their speed and skill .

Beau holds up the back end, keeping the puck away from Tate while the offensive first line is called off the ice and replaced with the second.

Zac and Wilder bump their sticks against the other’s as they rush out and Beau sends a pass to Wilder as soon as his skates hit the ice. For a second it seems like they may get a breakaway, but the Titan’s defense is already on him.

Play goes on for several minutes, a couple shots being taken on both sides and even more turnovers by both teams. Beau does his best to keep the Titans out of the house, but they’re relentless in pushing forward.

Before I know it, I’m called onto the ice and taking his place. I’ve always been a fast player, known for my ability to make goals happen from breakaways, but I’ve had a longer break than anyone else on the ice. I’m not at my fastest and relying on physicality is the only way I'll be able to compensate for that.

The Titan’s offense drives the puck back towards our house and I charge forward, seeing the pass he’s going to make before he even adjusts his stick. I stay on course right for him, waiting until the second before no return and he shoots off the puck before changing direction and intercepting the pass.

I waste no time skating up the ice, there are far faster guys on the ice than me. Zac is open and waiting, and I sauce him the puck, making it fly in the air before landing back on the ice right in front of him. He takes off like a rocket, flying over the ice and we all move up on the ice.

For a moment, I think he’s going to take the shot, but he sends the puck to Wilder who’s already waiting and cracks off a hard as fuck shot, aiming for the five hole. In just the nick of time, their goalie bends his knees, bringing the pads that cover his legs down to block the shot. It was too fast for him to really control the puck and hard enough that it ricochets off his pads and Wilder regains control of it.

Coach bangs on the boards and we take the opportunity to switch back out. I hate being pulled after only a few plays, but it’s the right way to play this game. The longer I watch, the more I’ll be able to figure out the best ways to keep the puck on their half of the ice.

The next time it’s my turn to go in, I’m prepared to do anything it takes. Just as I take my spot on the blueline, their offense regains the puck and skates beside the board. I move as fast as my skates will take me to cut him off, pressure him into making a mistake.

My body slams against him as he hits the board, making the glass between us and the crowd shake. But I wasn’t quick enough to stop the pass and all I can do is hope my linemate can pick up my slack.

The horn sounds and I curse, heading right back off the ice and onto the bench.

I should have made that block. There’s no reason I shouldn’t have been fast enough. It was sloppy to not anticipate the pass and be aware of where every player was on the ice.

The first period flies by and I only get on the ice one more time before it’s time to head back into the locker room. A new period, a new mindset. I have to get my head on right and not allow myself to wallow in self pity for one bad play.

Tate’s mitt knocks my shoulder and he doesn’t even have to say it. We shake it off. We’re only down one. We’ve got two periods left. The game is only getting started. I’m only just getting started.

I stretch while Coach talks to the team about where we need to tighten up and where we need to push. As soon as he’s done, I head back to my locker and grab Emery’s note. I should have kept it on me from the very beginning. It was stupid to not listen to my instincts. Slipping it into my left skate, I relace both of them, making sure they’re tight as fuck.

We head back onto the ice and Beau takes up his place in front of Tate. I relock into the game, focusing on what the Titans are doing as soon as they get the puck. How they choose to drive it forward. They’re being aggressive.

They’re not playing with the puck, not trying to outmatch us on skill or speed. I was relying on physicality to get me through, but so is everyone on the ice.

By the time I’m back on the ice, I have a better idea about how to attack their offense.

I get my longest stint on the ice and not only manage to keep Tate from having to work, but keep the momentum of the game on their side of the rink. That energy flows into Beau’s line as he takes over. Back and forth we go, slowly turning this game that was neck and neck to a game in our favor.

If only their goalie wasn’t at the top of his game.

We get more shots off than they manage to in the second period, but they still hold the lead. Going into the third period lights a fire in all of us. We want this win and can taste it. We’re so close.

Tate gives an appreciative look to where Beau and I stretch together in the locker room, talking about the ways to tighten our defense even further, and more importantly how to carry that into our offense. He chuckles, “You know, you could let a few shots through. I’m starting to get bored.”

I can’t help but grin at him. He couldn’t give us a higher compliment. Tate is our last line of defense. We want him to be bored.

“We’ll let a couple slip through just for you,” Beau jokes.

“Can’t have you falling asleep after all,” I add and Tate snorts .

“And miss the show? Never.”

That’s right, let’s give them a show.

Somehow the third period is the most physical of all, the boards rattling for almost the entirety of it. I focus on not only holding up to their level of aggression, but on also outmatching their speed and skill. It’s what this game needs.

With only a few minutes left of the game I see the opportunity we need. The same player I’ve checked against the boards all night, the one who got the assist on their only goal, skates down the ice with the puck. As if I can read his mind, I instinctually know he’s going for the same move as before.

I don’t wait for him to get his set up ready, but I don’t check him either. He braced, ready for the attack and completely missed the way I stole the puck right off him. Breaking away from what I’ve been showing all night, I skate the puck up myself. Doing what none of their offense was ready for me to do in this game but what I was once known for.

Last season I would have taken the shot myself. Would have wanted the glory. But now I want to hear that horn and the best way to do that is to be unexpected.

The goalies eyes are trained on me, his body adjusting to cover the holes I’m known for aiming at. My sweet spots. Too bad I’m not the one he should be preparing for. I sauce the puck to Wells, knowing they haven’t been able to intercept a single one of those flying passes all game.

Wells easily guides the puck where he needs it, but their goalie is good and already making his adjustments. Wells follows my lead and passes to Baylor who takes the shot before the goalie has even fully tracked the puck to that side of the arena.

The horn sounds and lights flare, the entire crowd on their feet as we tie the game.

I come off the ice, bumping fists with Beau as he takes my spot. I don’t make it back on before the end of the game. We neither score again, or give up any goals, ending in a tie.

It would be a lot sweeter if it was a victory, but I can’t deny how good it feels to have got this one under my belt. We fought hard and I can at least be proud of that. Though I’ll be kicking myself for that first period all week. Maybe even the rest of the season. It’ll be the motivation during every tough practice and every close game.

I get undressed, grabbing the note before removing my skate and putting it back in my locker for safe keeping. It’s crumpled now, but not completely destroyed and it managed to stay pretty much dry from sweat.

From this day forward I will never get on that ice for a game without it again.

I need my sunshine with me on the ice to be the best version of me.