2. Graham

2

GRAHAM

I pull my phone out of my locker as I take a seat on the bench. Practice was brutal today, but it was just what I needed after a day off. I scroll through my notifications as I drink the protein shake our trainers make up for everyone after practices. One specific Instagram notification catches my eye, so I click on it and open the app.

I’m not a huge social media guy, but I try to post occasionally. I open the private messages tab and click on the unread message.

Liztheinterpreter:

Hello, Mr. Webber, I wanted to personally thank you for the donation you made to the School for the Deaf today. The money we will raise from the donations by the Fusion organization will greatly impact our students’ lives. I’d like to take things a step further and invite you and any of your teammates to our fundraiser dinner tomorrow evening at seven p.m. It is being held on our campus, which is located at 127 Interpreter Drive. I was informed after the delivery of the baskets that my co-chair, Savannah Rhodes, just so happens to know you. While she doesn’t know I’ve reached out like this, I’m sure she’d be excited to see you tomorrow night. Thanks, Liz.

I read the message a second time as memories of Savannah come to the forefront of my mind. It has been years since I’ve seen her in person. I’ve seen some pictures when Lucas posts them online, but otherwise, I’d pushed memories of her to the back of my mind.

I click out of the message and scan Lucas’s profile until I find one of him with his siblings. I tap the picture, hoping he has everyone tagged. He does, and when I click on Savannah’s tag, I get the dreaded private account screen. So much for my internet stalking skills.

Since I struck out stalking Savannah, I put my phone away and grab my shower bag. I need to get the sweat cleaned off before I stop in to see Whitney, one of our trainers, for some work on my hip flexor. Getting old sucks, especially for a hockey player. I know my days of playing this game are limited. I have this season left on my contract, and the decision of whether it’s time to hang up the skates looms over my head. At thirty-six, I’m getting up there in age for a player. I know I’m past my prime playing years, and I don’t take any of this for granted.

“You ready for some torture?” Whitney asks as I walk through the door into her treatment room thirty minutes later.

“You know I like it,” I tease.

“Watch it,” Camden mutters under his breath from where he’s stretched out on one of the other tables, hooked up to the electrical stimulation machine. My gaze shifts to him, and he’s shooting daggers my way. I look between him and Whitney, my eyes going back and forth a few times as I take in the now noticeable tension between them.

I put my hands up like I’m surrendering. “No ulterior motives,” I tell Camden, hoping he takes my word for it. He grumbles something I can’t make out before closing his eyes and relaxing on the table.

“How’s the hip feeling today?” Whitney pats the treatment table she wants me to take a seat on.

“It’s alright. Not horrible, but not one hundred percent, either. That stretch you gave me to do yesterday helped.”

“That’s good. What would you rate your pain today?”

“Four, maybe four and a half.”

“Not bad, we’re making progress!” She has a hint of excitement in her voice. “Go ahead and lie back. I’ll get you stretched out, and then we can do some exercises.”

I do as she asks and lie back. She puts me through the gauntlet, stretching out my hip until it’s all loose and wobbly. We work on some strengthening exercises before she hooks me up to the electrical stimulation machine like Camden was on when I entered her treatment room an hour ago. He’s still sitting in the room, even though Whitney was finished with him a half hour ago.

“You got plans tomorrow night?” I ask Camden.

“Not that I know of, why?” he asks.

“I got a DM on Instagram inviting me and anyone else from the organization to come out to some fundraiser at a local school. It’s the one the front office put together those baskets for yesterday.”

“What time?”

“The message said seven p.m., and they are having a dinner. It didn’t mention the dress code, but I can find out.”

“Anyone else going?” he asks.

“I haven’t had the chance to ask anyone else. I got the message right before I came in here.”

“I bet we can get a small group together. Make something of it.”

“I’ll send a group text out.” I slip my cell out and pull up my team chat.

Graham:

Anyone free tomorrow night at seven? I received a blanket invite for anyone interested in attending the fundraiser our baskets went to for a local school. Thinking about hitting it up.

Zack:

I’ll check with Courtney and get back to you.

Kaden:

I’m in. Black tie?

Graham:

The invite didn’t say what the dress code is, but I’ll find out and report back.

Easton:

I’d be game. I’ll check with Erin if she’s free to join as well. She’s been in trial prep this week, so I’m not sure if she’ll be free or not.

Elijah:

How many people can you bring? I’m free and willing to make an appearance.

Hendrix:

Same. Just let me know, and I can be there.

Graham:

Will do.

“That didn’t take long.” Camden laughs from where he’s sitting.

“We’ve got a good group here.”

“Yeah, we do,” Whitney chimes in.

“You want to come?” I ask her.

“Oh no, that’s okay. No one knows who the trainer is. I’d just be in the way.”

“Bullshit,” Camden says. “You can be my plus-one.”

Whitney’s cheeks flush at his words. “I don’t know.” She chews on her bottom lip.

“There’s nothing to worry about. You are around all of us guys all the time. What are a few extra people in the room?” Camden tries to convince her.

“Did you find out how many people you can bring?” she asks me.

“No, let me send a message.”

I open Instagram back up and open my DM’s. I click on the button to accept the message request since it is from an account I don’t follow.

GWEBBER75:

Hi Liz, thank you for the invite. I enjoy giving back to the community and would like to accept your invitation to attend the fundraiser. I think I have a few other teammates available to join. I just have a couple of questions first. What is the dress code? And how many can you accommodate in total? A few of the guys would like to bring their significant others if room allows. Thanks, Graham

PS – what a small world! I haven’t seen Savannah in years and had no idea she was down here in Austin. Feel free to keep my attendance a surprise if you like. – G

I read over my message, and once satisfied, I hit send and close out of the app.

“I’ll let you know once I have an answer,” I tell both Camden and Whitney.

My phone buzzes a moment later, and when I look at the screen, I see a notification from Instagram.

Liztheinterpreter:

Hi, hello! Thank you so much for accepting my message and for replying! I’m a little shocked that I reached you!

Okay, now that I have my wits about me, the details for tomorrow night. Dress code is dressy – but not black tie. As for the number of attendees, the more the merrier! If you have a ballpark number, that would be great as we do need an approximate head count for seating and for food. Significant others are absolutely invited. Please let me know if you have any further questions! Cocktails start at 6:15, dinner is at 7 sharp. ~ Liz

GWEBBER75:

Thanks for getting back to me. Rough head count is 9, but a few of the guys are still confirming their significant others’ availability.

“Cocktails start at six fifteen with dinner at seven. Dress code is dressy, but not black tie,” I tell Camden and Whitney as I type out the same to the group chat.

“So, what do you say, Whit? Will you be my plus-one?” Camden asks Whitney, putting her on the spot.

She looks a bit nervous. “Um, sure,” she finally answers.

“Text me your address, and I’ll pick you up at a quarter to six.”

“I can just meet you there,” she says.

“And I can pick you up. I don’t mind,” he reiterates.

“I’ll think about it,” she says, and he doesn’t respond. “Alright, both of you are good to go for today,” Whitney declares. We both follow her out of the treatment room. She heads down the hall toward the staff lounge, and Camden and I head to the locker room.

“What was that all about?” I ask as we walk through the door.

“I’ve been asking her out since shortly after I got traded here, but she always turns me down. I’ve gotten every excuse from not dating players to now just isn’t a good time. I can tell she wants to say yes, so maybe I’ve been patient long enough to crack her shell.”

“Just be careful, man. Workplace relationships can be messy if they don’t work out.”

“I know, but I have a good feeling about it.” He grabs his keys, wallet, and phone from the shelf in his locker. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

We slap hands before parting ways. I gather up my things, then head to my car.