Olli nodded. We all knew what was going to happen, but we weren’t happy about it.
“Just focus on getting better. I know a pretty great physical therapist that will get you back in shape.”
Howe laughed then cringed. “Thanks, man. I’ll do my best.”
We said goodbye before returning to the waiting room so the next group could see him.
Madi stood when I walked in. “Is he okay?”
I nodded. “Much better than I expected. I told him you’d get him back in shape when he’s ready.”
She smiled. “Of course.”
I pulled her into my arms and rested my chin on the top of her head. This had been a scary experience, but things were going to be okay. Howe was strong, and stubborn. He would get better. The team would get through this.
“I’m proud of you guys.” I lifted my head to see Coach standing, addressing the group. “I know Howe appreciates you guys being here. I do too. We’re a family, and we take care of our own.”
His eyes met mine and I nodded.
“Tonight, we’re going to be here for him. Tomorrow, we’re going to support Reese and Erik. That’s what the Fury does. We support each other. We’ll get through this like we get through every challenge, together.
Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed Erik and Madeline’s story!
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Keep Reading,
Xoxo B
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Line Change
Noah
This had to be a dream. It couldn’t really be happening. I was going to wake up any second in my shared room in a grungy apartment.
Now.
I pinched myself. No seriously. This couldn’t be my life.
“This one is yours.”
The plague over the locker read N. Malkin. Holy crap. This was real. The Utah Fury locker room was state of the art. Decked out in black in red to show off the team colors with the logo in the center of the floor.
My jersey, skates, and helmet were waiting for me. Number forty-one. Malkin.
I touched the jersey. The cold fabric slid through my fingers as I turned to look around. This was better than I imagined.
When I was drafted last year to the Utah Fury, I thought that was the greatest moment of my life. But being put on their farm team in Boise wasn’t the dream I thought it would be. It was a lot of grueling practices, traveling in buses, and very little pay.
Playing in the AHL was a stepping stone to my dream, and now I was here. I was in the locker room with Coast Rust. There was a jersey with my name on it. My dream was coming true.
“Set down your bag and I’ll give you the full tour.”
I was trying to remain calm, like I saw the inside of my dream team’s lair on a daily basis. Soon I would.
This was unreal.
I wanted to ask where they guys were. I couldn’t wait to meet them. Especially Wyatt Hartman. He was one of my idols. Even though he was only five years older than me. I’d been watching him for years, and now I going to be playing with him.
Hopefully. I probably wouldn't be on his line, but maybe we’d crossover.
If this dream could come true, so could that one. I wasn’t far from it.
Rust lead me through the equipment rooms, small meeting room, large theater room, training room, gym, and hydrotherapy area. He gave me a little speech as we were walking, explaining things to me but I was in sensory overload. I took it all in like I was seeing Disneyland for the first time. As a kid. Because it wouldn’t be as cool now.
Who was I kidding? Yes, it would.
I’d never been. One of the downsides of being Canadian and playing hockey since I was three. Not much time for vacations or normal kid experiences.
Not that I minded. I was playing in the NHL now.
Disneyland would always be there.
My chance in the major league would not.
Rust turned to me looking much calmer than I felt. Of course, this was all normal to him. He was here every day. I wondered if he felt this way the first time he got here. Probably not. He’d been a star on the Dallas team back when he was a player. He was probably used to it by the time he got here. Part of me never wanted to get used to it. I wanted to appreciate where I was and all I’d accomplished every time I entered the arena.
I wouldn’t become a jaded player that took this for granted. I wouldn’t get caught up in the fame or money or politics. It had been my dream to play in the NHL since I could remember, and I would not screw this up.
Rust stopped and faced me. “Do you have any questions?”
I shook my head. When I called my parents last night to tell them I was finally moving up to the majors they gave me several pieces of advice. They said to be agreeable. Be easy to work with. Be teachable. Do not cause drama. Do not make them regret their decision.
I took each word to heart. They had helped me get this far, they obviously knew what they were talking about.
“No, Sir. I appreciate you taking the time to show me around.”
He nodded once. “Let’s go meet with Coach Romney.”
I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath. Here it was.
I followed him through the maze of rooms until we came to a closed door. I took another deep breath and relaxed my shoulders before I walked in.
I’d met Coach Romney briefly at the draft, and I’d seen him on TV but being in his office, alone, was intimidating.
I sat down and wiped my palms on my pants.
“It’s good to see you Noah.” He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. Why did I feel like I was in trouble? I couldn’t have possibly done anything to upset him yet. Maybe he saw something from a previous game he didn’t like.
“You too, Sir.”
“We’re glad to have you here. I do wish it was under different circumstances.”
I cringed a little. I felt horrible that it took Howe getting seriously injured for me to move up to the team, but I wasn’t going to let it get in the way of me performing.
“Coach Rust and I want to make sure you feel welcome on the team and make sure you are taken care of. We know the transition from the AHL to NHL can be a bit overwhelming.”
I tried to think of what he meant but couldn't guess. Maybe it was the bigger stage?
“I’ve spoken with your agent and advised that he sets you up with an assistant and financial advisor.”
Oh. He didn’t think I could handle the fame and money that came with the major leagues. I refrained from telling him my parents raised me right.
“He said he would set something up.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Good. Practice starts in twenty, so go get ready. I’ll see you on the ice.”
I stood and shook his hand before leaving the office. Coach Rust had disappeared, so I figured I was finally on my own. Good thing I remembered the tour well enough to get back. Asking for directions on my first day would be embarrassing.
I walked into the locker room and went back to my name plaque. A few guys were milling around, but they ignored me. I wanted to take out my phone and send a picture of my locker to my parents, but I didn't want the others to think I was lame. I was a rookie, but I didn’t need to make a show of it.
“Hey, Malkin.”
I turned to see Wyatt Hartman walking toward me with Erik Schultz and Reese Murray at his side. Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out.
I wanted to punch myself in the face.
He smirked. “Hartman or Wyatt is fine.”
I nodded like he was my commanding officer and bit back a “Yes, Sir!”.
“Welcome to the Fury. We took a look at your footage from the farm team, and you’re pretty good. We’re glad to have you here.”
He watched me play? Deep breath. “Thank you, Hartman.”
Schultz eyed me. “Get changed, your first real practice is about to start.”
I looked at them and realized they were already dressed. I needed to hurry, or I was going to be last out. Drawing negative attention is not something I wanted on my first day.
“Thanks. I’ll see you guys out there.”
I changed and wondered what Schultz meant about my first real practice. I’d been playing since I was three. I think I knew what to expect.
About thirty minutes into the drills I understood.
I’d never known my legs could burn like this. If I was able to walk tomorrow it would be a miracle, and we still had two hours left.
A whistle blew, and the guys gathered at the bench for water. I didn’t want to sit, knowing I’d never be able to stand again so I grabbed a bottle and moved in small circles.
“How are you doing?” Reese Murray was leaning against the board, casually sipping away like he wasn’t about to die. How nice.
“I’m okay.”
I could hear the fatigue in my voice, and judging by his smirk, so could he.
“It’ll get easier. Don’t push yourself too hard the first few days. It’s better to be slow now, than sitting on the bench by the end of the week.”
He was right. I needed to pace myself. I needed to prove myself, but I couldn’t do that if I was passed out on the ice.
“Thanks.”
He nodded. “We were all where you are at one point. We understand and so do the coaches. The AHL is no joke, but you’re playing with the championship team now. They didn’t get there by taking it easy.”
As if I’d forgotten that little detail.
“Was it a change for you? Coming from Boston?”
He smiled. “Yeah, but I caught up fast.”
Good. I wasn’t the only one. I knew I could do it. I would be able to keep up soon. Hopefully within a few days.
There was a reason these guys were the very best in the world. They didn’t slack off.
Ever.
The whistle blew away and the guys dropped their bottles. My thighs cried as I skated back to the center.
Coach Rust separated us, and we played four on four games for the last hour. It was crazy to watch my heroes play each other. They laughed and joked as they raced past me, and when it was my line’s turn to get on, it was an out of body experience.
I was defending for Olli Letang! The greatest goalie in the league. Schultz and Hartman were coming toward me looking like they were in on a secret.
I got ready, and was able to block Schultz, but he passed to Murray and Olli had to catch it.
Brassard gave me a pat on the shoulder as he passed me, and it was a tiny sign of acceptance. I’d held my own. I’d managed to do what I was supposed to. I looked around, but no one was paying attention to me. At least I wasn’t getting negative attention. No disappointed looks or shaking heads.
I moved back to the center where they were dropping the puck and took my position. My side got possession, so I faded toward the back, watching, anticipating where I would be needed.
Hartman took the puck and shot it toward me. I turned and raced after it, passing it to the corner. It got picked up by Porter Vaugh and he took it back to the neutral zone. My heart was racing like I’d run a half-marathon in record breaking time. This was what I’d lived for the past seventeen years. Sure, these guys were insanely good, but when it came down to it, this was the same sport I’d been playing last week in Boise. I knew how to play my position and I was good at it.
That realization sunk in and I began to enjoy myself. I was at the top of my career, and this was just the beginning.
About the Author
Brittney has been an avid reader for as long as she can remember. Her parents’ form of punishment growing up was taking away her books and making her go outside to play. She loves the beach, exercising, sleeping in, and cookies. Yes, she does know those contradict each other. She’s an obsessive dog lover and is slowly learning to appreciate the mountains she lives in. Nature can be okay, sometimes.
Find out more about Brittney and her books at
www.Brittneymulliner.com
Match Penalty (Utah Fury Hockey Book 2) Page 19
