8. Graham

8

GRAHAM

The plane bounces as we touch down a little harder than usual, thanks to the wind. I slept for a good portion of the flight today, my body still recovering from last night with Savannah. It was almost midnight when I dropped her off at her place and drove my old ass home. I don’t think I’d fully gotten settled into bed when I crashed. Thankfully, I had the foresight to set my alarm so I wouldn’t be late for the flight to Vegas.

“Are you skating today?” Kaden, my defense linemate, asks.

“Don’t know. I’ll see how I’m feeling when we get to the rink. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Old man problems, or were you out on the town?” he asks, his eyebrows up in question as he waits for me to answer.

An easy smile tugs at my lips as flashes of last night come to mind. “I don’t kiss and tell,” I say.

“You dirty dog, I hope she was worth the lost sleep.” He chuckles as the plane comes to a stop and the seat belt sign is turned off, letting us know we can safely get up. Flying private is nothing like commercial. We quickly deplane and head straight for the motor coach waiting for us not fifty feet from the airplane. There is also a large box truck parked near the cargo hold, and the equipment guys are already expertly transferring all the gear we travel with to the truck to transport it all to the rink. The motor coach takes us straight to the hotel so we can get checked in, and then will take us to the rink for our afternoon skate.

Graham:

I made it to Vegas. I hope you’re having a good day.

Savannah:

Glad you made it already! I’m sitting here during my planning period wishing I was home in bed. I’m going to need some toothpicks to keep my eyes open all day. No more keeping me out past my bedtime, mister.

Graham:

I’m also having a hard time keeping my eyes open. Next time, you’ll just have to sleep over.

Shit, I re-read my last text after I hit send and wish I could take it back. I don’t have women sleep over, and I don’t sleep over at their places. But why does the thought of Savannah sleeping over at my house not scare the shit out of me?

We’re given an hour to unpack before returning to the motor coach so we can head over to the rink for our skate. With us only here for one night, I only partially unpack. My toiletry bag goes into the bathroom, my suits get hung up in the closet, and my rink bag comes out and is already packed with what I take with me to the rink for the first skate. The equipment guys are responsible for all our gear, so my bag only has my shower kit and clean undergarments to change into. The drive from the hotel doesn’t take long, and before we know it, we’re walking into the rink, where we find our gear already set up in each of our cubbies. The equipment guys really are badasses. They keep this team running and are the true superheroes behind the scenes.

“What’d you decide? Are you hitting the ice today?” Kaden asks as he sits in his stall next to me. He’s already changed into his compression layer and is getting his gear strapped on.

“I need to take at least a few laps. Get the blood flowing in my legs.”

“Good, I’ll push you out there, old man,” he teases. Kaden is still a cocky player. He’s a fucking good one, and hopefully will have many more years to play, seeing as he’s only thirty.

“Fucker,” I mumble under my breath, which only causes him to burst out laughing at me. We love to give each other a hard time. Coach partnered us together a season and a half ago when Kaden was traded to us. Coach wanted him paired with a veteran player to see if I could help rein him in and bring his play to the next level. I’d like to think I’ve done just that.

“See you out there, ole man,” he says as he jumps up and does a few squats to make sure all his gear is in place correctly. You never want to play with your cup out of alignment. That’s a one-way trip to having bruised balls for weeks.

I move slowly, the exhaustion still kicking my ass. I finally get all my gear on, do my own check that it is all in place, then make my way out to the ice. As soon as my feet hit the frozen surface, it’s like my body is transformed. The exhaustion is gone, and the euphoria I feel each time I touch the ice is front and center.

I take a few laps around the ice, letting the cold air of the rink settle into my lungs as I start to skate faster and faster with each lap. By the time I’m done, most of the guys are out on the ice, so we split up into forward lines and defensive pairs and start some easy drills. No one is going at one hundred percent, which is exactly what today's skate is all about. We’re supposed to take it easy and just get the blood flowing so we don’t cramp up.

After about forty minutes on the ice, I’ve had enough and head off. A few of the other guys have also left, so I’m not the first to call it quits. Once I’m showered and changed, I head for the treatment room, looking for Whitney to get stretched out before leaving.

“Take a seat. I’ll be right with you,” she says as she types away on her laptop.

I give Camden a head nod as he’s lying out on one of the treatment beds, already hooked up to the electrical stem machine. I swear, he’s one of the fastest guys out of the locker room, and only because he wants to be the first into the trainer’s room.

While I wait for Whitney, I pull out my phone and see that I have a couple of missed text messages from Savannah.

Savannah:

I think it is a little early for that, don’t you?

Graham! You really didn’t have to send me these. They’re gorgeous. Thank you. I now have a dinner date with Liz tonight to “spill the beans” on why I’d be receiving such an elaborate bouquet at work from the one and only Mr. Graham Webber, famous hockey player. {Picture of flowers attached}

Graham:

Glad to hear they arrived and that you like them.

I decided not to reply to the sleeping-over response. Maybe if I just don’t bring it up, we can forget all about that offhanded comment.

“Alright, big guy, lie back,” Whitney instructs. She starts with my hip and runs me through the gamut of stretches and exercises. By the time I’m done, my muscles are like noodles, and I’m ready for bed once again.

“Are you coming to dinner with everyone tonight?” I ask Whitney before leaving the treatment room.

“No, I have a date with some room service. My favorite show just dropped some new episodes that I haven’t gotten a chance to watch yet.”

“Ah, sounds exciting.” I chuckle. “You know you’re always welcome to join the team dinners.”

“I know, but I also like my alone time. I take advantage of a free hotel room.” She smiles at me. “Especially the nights when we aren’t getting back to them late.”

“I hear you on that one. Have a good evening with your room service and Netflix,” I say before heading out. I stop in the locker room to grab my bag, then make my way to the lounge, where guys are starting to congregate as we wait for everyone to return to the hotel.