Luke raked a hand through his hair. He hated himself just then, because even as he bore witness to his father’s hurt, Luke had the overwhelming urge to yell, “No one’s asking you to be on the sidelines of my life! I’m your son, too. I got named captain, my team made the play-offs and I’m struggling, playing worse than I ever have. And you haven’t asked me about a single one of those things! I’m not even sure you watch my games on TV.”
But he couldn’t say any of those things without being a completely selfish bastard, so instead, Luke said, “I’m going to see if Ethan needs a spotter for his workout,” and then he headed toward the garage.
“Got room for one more?” he asked as he entered.
Ethan barely glanced up at the intrusion. He was on the lat pull-down machine, doing heavy weights and high reps. Luke watched the sweat drip from his brother’s determined brow. He was going to hurt himself if he kept up this demented pace. And yet Luke respected the hell out of him for sticking to it. For believing.
Luke stepped between the parallel bars, the spot where Ethan had willed himself to walk again. First one step, then twenty, then a few more. In that moment, Luke had wanted to believe, too, that Ethan would one day be free of the wheelchair. But after that, his brother’s progress had stalled. And with each passing day it became less and less likely that he would ever fully recover. Ethan refused to accept that. But as Luke had learned as the captain of the Portland Storm, somebody had to be the voice of reason.
He understood that his parents couldn’t bring themselves to dash the hopes of their little boy. And that meant that Luke would have to raise the possibility.
Stalling, he anchored a hand on each of the waist-high bars. He pushed up until his feet left the floor and his arms were straight. Then he launched into a quick round of tricep dips, pounding them out until his arms started to burn a little.
The clank of weights dropping let Luke know that he had an audience. He swung his feet back and forth a few times before dropping to the ground.
“What do you want, Luke?”
“I was hoping if my boys win this afternoon, that maybe you could attend the sledge hockey state championships with the team for me. If our series against Montana goes well, I’ll be out of town.”
Ethan was shaking his head before Luke had even finished speaking. “I can’t. I’m training.”
“You’re always training, E.”
“If I can’t walk, I can’t skate. I need to keep working. I can’t afford to lose focus now.”
Luke watched as Ethan pulled the pin and raised the knee pad on the lat machine. Slowly, carefully, he pushed himself into a standing position. He waited a moment, hand on the machine, to make sure he was stable. Then he backed up a step, then another, then another.
“No one’s more determined than you. I know that better than anyone.”
It was all Luke could do not to rush over and help him, to push the wheelchair closer, to swear at the injustice that had left this young, virile kid with the walking skills of a decrepit eighty-year-old man.
But he didn’t.
Ethan made it, slowly but surely, back to his chair.
“You might be four years younger than me, Ethan, but you’ve always been right on my heels. Anything I ever did, you did faster and better, including hockey. And I know you miss it. But it’s been three years since the accident. Three intense years, and you’ve been training nonstop.”
Now Ethan did look up at him, and Luke could read betrayal in his brother’s eyes. “You don’t think I can do it? You don’t believe I’ll skate again?”
“I have no doubt that you will accomplish all kinds of great things in your lifetime, Ethan. You’ve always done anything you put your mind to. But I’m wondering at what price. As powerful as your single-minded focus is... We’re just worried about you, little brother. Mom, Dad, me. You’re in here for hours every day. You’re only twenty-two years old. I don’t want life to pass you by.”
Ethan’s laugh was bitter. “And what kind of life do you think is passing me by, Luke? I spent a whole year barely able to take a piss by myself. People have to open the door for me. I can’t drive. I can barely reach the damn stove. Physio is the only thing that makes me feel even halfway normal. Working out is the only thing that’s helped me get better.”
His voice broke. Ethan swiped at his cheek, erasing any sign of weakness. “And I fought through it. I fought through the pain and I won. I went from not being able to stand, to being able to walk five steps and then ten. It’s measurable. I can see myself improving and I need that. Because that’s what’s going to make my life better.”
Ethan shook his head. “That hit took everything from me, Luke. It took my body. It took my career. It took my dream. You can’t understand what that’s like because you’re still playing. You’re in the goddamn play-offs!”
“And I hate every minute of it! I can’t concentrate, I can’t score. Because I wish you were there instead of me.”
“You want me to feel sorry for you? You want me to give up? Well, I won’t. I’ll do whatever it takes to walk again.” His brother said the words like a vow.
“You’re right,” Luke said quietly. “This isn’t about me. I want you to walk again, Ethan. I do. But I also want you to have a life. To enjoy yourself sometimes. To smile again.”
“I’ll smile when I can get rid of the chair and the crutches.”
Luke scrubbed a hand down his face. “It’s been three years.”
His brother flinched like he’d punched him.
“Nobody wants to say it, but what if this is it, Ethan? What if this is as good as it gets?”
“Get out.”
“C’mon, man. I just—”
“Stop treating me like I’m one of your damn charity cases, Luke. What are you even doing out here? Jesus Christ! Don’t you understand? If this doesn’t work out, I’ve got nothing!”
Luke shook his head at the injustice of that. “That’s not true.”
“Spare me the platitudes and get the fuck out.”
With a sigh, Luke walked over to the door. He stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind him, but he hesitated to walk away.
There was a long pause, but then he heard the clank of metal that meant Ethan had resumed his workout. Luke headed back to the house.
He couldn’t wait to find Holly and hit the road.
* * *
“YOU READY TO GO?”
Holly could tell something was on Luke’s mind. He’d been distant since he’d come back to the house. Reading the signs, she’d packed up her suitcase and brought it down to the kitchen, anticipating his need for a speedy exit after his shower. She glanced over to where he stood, making jeans and a sledge hockey sweatshirt look good.
“Just about,” she responded. “I wanted to say goodbye to Ethan before we go.”
Luke tugged nervously at the brim of his black cap, and she could tell he wasn’t wild about the idea. Neither were his parents, if their identical deer-in-headlights expressions were any indication. Little did they know, that was exactly the reason she was doing it.
She grabbed the bag she’d purposely left out of her luggage and headed for the back door.
With a deep breath for courage, she walked down the lovingly crafted wheelchair ramp and knocked on the garage door before stepping inside.
“Hi, Ethan. I hope I’m not intruding. My niece, Melissa, is your biggest fan and when she found out I was coming here, she asked me to see if you’d sign her jersey.”
He’d looked pissed when she’d first walked in, but now there was only surprise in his eyes as she pulled the Team USA jersey from the bag, complete with “Maguire” and a big number ten on the back.
Ethan rolled his chair from the modified bicep curl machine he’d been using and approached her. He hes
itated before he took the marker she held in his direction and even longer before he took the jersey itself.
“No idea why she’d want this,” he muttered, scribbling his signature on the crest on the front.
“Are you kidding? You’re her favorite player. Your goal in the gold medal game is what made her want to play hockey.”
“That was a long time ago.” Ethan clicked the lid back onto the Sharpie.
“Not so long,” Holly countered. “People still remember. Just like they remember the dirty, after-the-whistle hit that took it all away.”
Ethan’s head snapped up at her bluntness.
“What happened to you was awful, completely unfair. But you can’t let it define you. You can’t spend your life focused on what you’ve lost.”
“Did Luke put you up to this?”
Holly shook her head. “Nope. This is all me.”
“You’re going to walk into my house and tell me how to live my life? Like I give a fuck what my brother’s new girlfriend thinks of me?”
“Oh, I’m not Luke’s girlfriend. We’re just sleeping together.”
The expression on Ethan’s face was almost comical, but Holly didn’t pause to enjoy it. She had too much to say. “I’m just an outside observer, a hockey lover, someone who was sitting with Melissa when you scored that golden goal—one that will grace highlight reels for the rest of time. I saw the way you inspired my niece to try something new and the way your memory still inspires her to be the best at something that she loves.”
Holly took a seat on a nearby weight bench.
“Your family loves you. They want to help you through this. And they’re devastated every time you turn your back on their help.”
“Leave my family out of this!”
Holly ignored him. “Luke’s in the longest scoring drought of his professional career. He’s playing like shit in the play-offs and beating himself up over it every single second. All because he feels like he’s letting you down. But he straps on those skates every day and tries to do better, because he holds on to the hope that you might be watching.
“It kills him a little bit more with every game that you’re not in the stands to cheer him on, but he’d never tell you that. Just like he’d never tell you that he’s got a number ten sticker plastered to the inside of his helmet.”
Holly shook her head. Her eyes prickled with unshed tears, but they were for Luke, not for Ethan, so she didn’t let them fall.
“You know, I wanted to play hockey my whole life, but I wasn’t any good. I washed out. I was a horrible skater and I couldn’t keep up with the other kids, so I decided to pursue hockey in a way that I was good at. I changed my focus to something more realistic. I took up sports journalism and broadcasting and now I get to be close to the game I love.
“There are opportunities to be part of hockey that don’t involve playing. Television stations would kill to have you as a commentator or an analyst. Hell, Luke would love your help with the sledge hockey foundation. But if you’re not into that, there are hundreds of sports-related charities dying for big names to bring them some much-needed press and support. There are also a ton of hockey teams out there, from the underprivileged ones all the way to the pros, who need mentors, or assistants, or coaches. And all of them would consider it an honor to have you aboard.”
Holly got up and walked over to stand in front of Ethan. “So I guess what I’m trying to say is, the only one who thinks you’re stuck in that chair is you.” She grabbed the jersey from his slackened hands and held it up. “Thanks for the autograph, by the way. My niece is going to love it.”
* * *
AFTER WARM HUGS with his parents and a promise that she’d come back to visit soon, Holly and Luke and their luggage were back in his truck and headed for the arena.
The game was amazing. Holly had never watched sledge hockey before and she was in awe. The kids were strapped into their sleds and propelled themselves around the ice with what looked like elongated miniature hockey sticks in each hand. Luke did his best to commentate for her, explaining how the butt end of the sticks had little metal teeth that gripped the ice and how a flip of the wrist was all it took to go from shooting the puck to speeding down the ice.
The logistics of the game hardly mattered as the game progressed. These kids were playing their hearts out, loving every minute of it, and by the time the Millerville Sled Dogs vanquished their opponents 3–1, Holly was cheering as loudly as anyone in the arena.
She followed Luke down to the Sled Dogs’s dressing room, and they stood outside the open door waiting for the coach’s cue.
“Great job today, boys! So good, in fact, that somebody special wanted to stop by and congratulate you on your big win!”
From the moment Luke stepped into the dressing room, it was obvious the kids loved him. Holly stood just outside the door, watching as he high-fived everyone. She couldn’t help but be impressed. These kids weren’t excited to see a premier hockey player—this wasn’t a hero-worship, get-an-autograph type of joy. The bond went deeper than that. They were excited to see an old friend.
“Luke! You came!”
“Of course I did. You guys think I’m gonna miss watching you play such a big game? Not for anything. And you were fantastic! You guys just made the state finals! That’s a really big deal.”
“Says the man in the middle of a play-off run.”
Luke brushed off the comment, and Holly really admired the way he kept the focus on the kids. “I’m proud of you guys. You’ve worked so hard this season, and all the practices and the focus is paying off. You have a real shot at winning the state championship, and that’s why I brought an extraspecial surprise guest to get you ready for all the media and interviews you guys are going to be doing! Please welcome Holly Evans!”
She waved as she stepped into the dressing room, laughing at the excitement and all the hoots and hollers that greeted the announcement.
For the next few hours, she and Luke had a blast filming the kids, asking silly questions and watching them emulate the interview styles of their favorite hockey stars.
Holly was so caught up in talking with the kids, taking photos and answering questions, that she didn’t even notice when Luke slipped out of the room. She found him sitting alone at the top of the bleachers, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, staring out at the ice as the Zamboni circled slowly, erasing the game they’d just witnessed.
“Wow. Those kids really love you.”
Luke shook his head modestly, but a flush crept up his neck. His embarrassment was so endearing Holly’s insides went all squishy. “I get more out of it than they do.”
“Oh yeah?” she asked, taking a seat next to him. The painted wood was cold through her jeans. “How do you figure?”
“It’s just awesome to see their joy. Their genuine love of the game. Lots of guys lose that by the time they go pro. The people I play with, the people I play against, there’s not too many who still love it the same way they did when they were kids. Too much bullshit creeps in. Contracts, ice time, money and constant criticism from the media, armchair athletes.
“But these kids are still pure. They still play for the love of the game. And when I see them happy, it just...”
“It just what?”
Luke shook his head. “Nothing. It’s stupid.”
She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Luke?”
He kept his eyes firmly on the ground for so long that she was sure he wasn’t going to tell her. She squeezed his shoulder to let him know that was okay, but when she pulled her hand away, he met her gaze.
“It makes me hope that maybe, someday, Ethan will find a way to be happy again, too, y’know? Some of these kids have never been able to walk, and some of them were injured, like him. But this game, this team, it makes them smile, despite all the shitty
stuff they’ve been through. I want that for my brother. Even for a second, I want him to remember that life can be good. That we can be good. Like we used to be.”
Luke pulled his hands from his pockets, tugged on the brim of his cap and continued.
“Ethan was a superstar. One of those kids that you knew was destined for greatness. Scouts were sniffing around him by the time he was twelve, keeping track, asking questions. He was just so goddamn good that you couldn’t help but notice him.”
Luke shook his head. “At seventeen, my little brother scored the goal that won our country a gold medal. At eighteen, he got drafted first overall to the league. People had big hopes. And even though I was jealous as hell of the kid, at how it all came so easily for him, I was proud, too.
“Anyway, as fate would have it, he and I both ended up on the Wisconsin Blades that year—his first year as a professional hockey player. Because of our age gap, we’d never officially played hockey together. Some pickup at the local rink, ball hockey in the driveway, sure, but we’d never had matching jerseys, or been on the same line. And it was awesome.”
Luke laughed, and Holly realized that he’d left her. He was back in that moment, reacting to some inside joke she couldn’t hear.
“Seriously, I loved every second of that season, him down the center, me on the left wing. We dominated. The Blades breezed through the regular season and right into the play-offs. We thought nothing could stop us. That championship had our name on it.”
He was wringing his hands together, picking at his thumbnail, bouncing his heel on the concrete beneath his foot. Agitation that would have warned her the story was about to take a turn for the worse, had she not already known.
“And then we hit the fifth game of the second round. We were up three-one in the series, winning two-nothing in the second period. The whistle blew and I headed for the bench. Then there was this thud behind me, and it sounded like every fan in the building gasped, as if they’d all gotten punched in the stomach at the same time.”
There were tears in his eyes now, and he bent over, elbows on his knees. And she knew that for him, just telling the story was a punch in the gut.
Playing to Win Page 12
