by Ava Thorpe
“That’s better, Welling, way to go, I need to see that every shift,” Coach Lacasse yelled, as he passed her after his shift. He nodded at her, grateful for the encouraging words.
He climbed over the boards, and planted himself on the bench, wheezing. Unclasping his helmet, he grabbed a water bottle and drank, his heart hammering against his chest. Carter had a couple of minutes of rest, before his line was called onto the ice again, and he intended on making good use of the reprieve.
Carter felt a nudge on his shoulder. “Good speed, Cartsy. That pass was real juicy—too bad I flubbed it, eh,” Jared, his defense partner, said good-naturedly.
Smiling back at Jared, Carter offered him a fist bump. “Thanks. Next time?” he said. His throat still felt tight. He really needed to focus on his conditioning, if he wanted to keep up with the team. This was the main show—he wasn’t playing in the minors anymore. Carter huffed out another deep breath, feeling better, and slipped his helmet back on again.
“Think we can get one past Jean-Pierre?” Jared asked, grinning. Jean-Pierre was their starter goalie, and fortunately—well, unfortunately for them during practice, Carter supposed—he was one of the top goalies in the league.
Carter nodded. “Easy as pie. We’ll just go five-hole on him,” he said. He paused for a moment, before shaking his head ruefully. “Nah, probably not, but wishing is free, right?”
Jared sighed dramatically. “He always lets Ash score one off him.”
Carter made a pointed gesture at Ash McCleod, their captain. “I’m pretty sure those aren’t freebies. This is Ash we’re talking about.”
“Fucking McCleod,” Jared said dramatically, just loud enough for Ash to hear. Ash looked at them questioningly, before shrugging and flipping them off fondly.
Ash was one of the best players in the league. Carter personally thought he was the best, but admittedly, he was probably a little biased. Still, Carter was a lucky shit. He remembered how elated he was when he got drafted in the third round by the Admirals four years ago. He never thought he’d be lucky enough to be on the same team as Ash McCleod, and here he was now, occasionally playing on the same line as him.
It was ridiculous.
Carter never wanted it to end.
Unfortunately for him, this was hockey. There were never any guarantees with hockey. He was a rookie defenseman, with just a handful of games under his belt. His place on the team wasn’t concrete. He needed to fight for his spot every night, every game, every practice.
He took another deep, sating breath, skating onto the ice for his next shift. There was no use thinking about that now—he needed to focus.
The rest of practice went by in a blur. He got a couple more shifts in, one of them with Ash, and to his relief, the coaches seemed happy enough with his performance. Or at least, he hoped they were happy. It was hard to tell sometimes, especially with Coach Lacasse. She never gave anything away.
Carter was walking tiredly to the locker room, skates still on, when one of the assistant coaches stopped him.
“Welling, wait up,” Coach Bellamy called out from behind him.
He stopped in his tracks, waiting for Coach Bellamy to catch up to him. “Yeah, Coach, what’s up?”
“Nice job out there today, son,” Coach Bellamy said, before patting Carter on the shoulders. “Lacasse wants you to come by her office on Friday before morning skate.”
Carter froze. That didn’t sound good, not at all. He swallowed, trying to school his face into something more neutral. “Yeah, Coach, will do.”
The Coach nodded briefly, slapping Carter’s back. “Good. Keep up your conditioning, kid, and don’t be afraid to ask the trainers here for help.”
“I have been, Coach, thank you. The trainers are great,” Carter said perfunctorily.
Satisfied, Coach Bellamy stalked off past the locker room, towards the maze of offices in the back. Carter felt himself tensing. Everyone knew a private conversation with Coach Lacasse never brought anything good.
Swearing internally, he opened the locker room door, walking straight to his stall. He really didn’t want to go back to Albany, where the Admirals’ minor league affiliate was located, but what else was Coach Lacasse going to talk to him about?
He knew roster spots were tight. There were only so many guys who could play, and Carter really, really didn’t want to get cut.
“Why the long face, buttercup,” Remi LeBlanc said from across his stall. He threw a roll of tape at Carter, taking him out of his head.
Carter opened his mouth to retaliate, but thought against it. Remi was the number one defenseman on the team. Normally locker room banter came easily to Carter, but now that he was a rookie all over again, he wasn’t sure how to proceed. He didn’t want to piss off Remi, not when he could be assigned to his line at any time.
Ash must have read his face, though, because Ash punched Remi’s arm playfully. “Leave the rookie alone, Blancs,” he said. Ash pointed at Carter. “Don’t be afraid to tell Blancs off. He’s just a nosy old man.”
“I’ll show you a nosy old man,” Remi said, before tangling Ash into a friendly headlock. “Show some respect, Captain.”
Seeing the sight in front of him, Carter felt even more upset at the possibility of being sent down to the minors. He was just starting to get to know his teammates, and his teammates were just starting to get used to him. The team was so close-knit, like a family. He could see the way the team supported each other both on and off the ice, and he wanted to keep being a part of that.
It wasn’t like the team in Albany was awful. Some of the guys there were Carter’s closest friends. It was different, though, when there wasn’t really a sense of permanence with the team. The atmosphere between his minor league team and the Admirals was markedly different, and Carter wanted to stay here.
“Seriously, though, you okay, rookie?” Remi asked after his tussle with Ash ended.
Carter tried to smile, but he was sure it came off as a grimace. “Yeah. Just a little worried, that’s all. Coach Lacasse wants to see me before morning skate on Friday.”
Remi whistled. “I feel you. I’m a thirty-year-old man, and I’m still afraid of her.” He stood up, holding out his arm in a fist pump. Carter met his gesture. “I wouldn’t worry about it, though. I’m sure it’s nothing serious. You’ve been playing well.”
“Definitely,” Ash piped up beside Remi. “You and Jared are clicking really well. Don’t worry about it.”
Ash always looked out for everyone. You could tell he really cared about his teammates, and this wasn’t an exception. He was a great captain like that.
“I’ll try,” Carter said hesitantly. “At least I only have to torture myself about it for a day. Can you imagine if we were on a road trip?”
Ash snorted. “You’ll be fine, seriously.”
Carter tried not to get too confident. He was grateful, though, that his captain believed in him. That definitely helped.
Once he finished showering and changing, he walked outside to his car. Carter had been invited by a couple of the rookie forwards to a late lunch, but he was beat. He just wanted to go home, veg out with Puck, and not think about hockey for a while.
The last bit was probably an impossibility, but he was going to try.
Blasting out his playlist, Carter nodded along to the music as he drove home. The practice facility was in the suburbs, close to where the arena was, and Carter was thankful he was driving back to the city in that awkward in-between time, when there was virtually no traffic on the road.
Maybe he would take Puck to the dog park once he got a chance to rest a bit. He felt a pang of guilt about his dog. Between practices, games, and a mini road trip through Florida, he hadn’t been around for Puck as much as he’d like.
Thankfully, Jared had recommended a pretty good dog-walking company. He was able to hire someone to come see Puck a couple of times a day. Sometimes, Puck even went to doggy day care.
He knew he was spoiling his dog
, but it made him feel more comfortable, knowing his dog was taken care of. He didn’t have family in Ottawa, and the only friends he had in the city played on the same team as him. Until he could get settled, he had no choice but to use Paws and Claws for help.
Unless they ship you back to Albany.
Sometimes his brain wasn’t the most helpful. He put the brakes on that train of thought, and slid into the elevator in his building. He punched in his floor, before leaning against the glass to wait. His condo was in a smaller building, just five floors, instead of the usual high rise monstrosity.
It wasn’t something he would have chosen for himself, but he was glad he didn’t have to worry about finding a place to live. The Admirals’ back office had arranged this rental for him, and Carter was just happy to have a clean place for him and Puck to live.
Opening the door to his condo, he stopped in his tracks, surprised.
There was a different guy with Puck. The man was shorter than Carter, more lithe than muscular. He was wearing a tight, long-sleeved t-shirt that fit him like a glove, his unruly blond hair peeking through a grey beanie. Whoever he was, he wasn’t Puck’s dog-walker, and Carter was on alert.
“Who are you,” he said, projecting his voice.
The other man jumped. “Uh, hey, sorry, I didn’t realize you’d be home early,” he said, but he didn’t make a move to step away from Puck.
Carter walked to Puck, putting himself between the man and his dog. “Who are you?” he repeated. He was told by the owner of Paws and Claws that the same person would be walking Puck every time.
The man held his hands up. “Hey, chill, I’m just the emergency replacement,” he said. “I’m Luke. Charlie had a family emergency. You should have received a call from the agency.”
Removing Puck’s lead, Carter checked to make sure he was okay. “I didn’t get a call at all. You could be a serial killer for all I know,” he said, thawing a little. It looked like Puck was well-cared for, and it was very apparent that Puck had taken a shine to Luke.
Luke rolled his eyes. “You outweigh me by a good fifty pounds. I’m pretty sure you’ll be okay, even if I was a serial killer,” he said. “And are you sure? Marjorie is always on top of that kind of thing.”
Carter whipped out his phone, ready to prove him wrong. Except, well, he was right. The agency did call him. He must have missed the call earlier, with all the worrying he did about his meeting with the coach. “Ah, you’re right, she did try to call.” Carter was mortified. He could feel his cheeks growing hot.
“See, not a serial killer after all,” Luke said.
Carter gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry, it was a tense day at work. Didn’t mean to take it out on you,” he said. “Thanks for walking Puck.”
Shrugging, Luke started towards the front door. “Just doing my job. He was good today, by the way. I don’t know when Charlie will be back, so I may be walking him again on his next walk with the agency.”
Carter ruffled Puck’s fur. “Yeah, that’s fine, thanks for letting me know.”
The guy’s eyes were so blue, almost like the deep end of a pool, and Carter found himself fixated. The afternoon light streaming from his balcony just made them sparkle even more, and Carter had to forcibly look away.
What the hell was that?
“Was there something on my face?” Luke asked, sounding confused.
Carter shook his head. “No, no, sorry, just remembered something.” He cleared his throat, coughing. “Uh, yeah, thanks again.”
Luke looked at him strangely, but seemed to take his answer well enough, because he opened the front door. “Yeah, see you.”
Carter stood there for a moment, staring at the door after Luke left. There was an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
Puck barked, grabbing his attention.
Right. He sat on the sofa, gesturing for Puck to come to him. “What’d you do today, buddy?”
Chapter Three
Luke
“God damn it, thanks a lot, buddy,” Luke muttered, as he clicked on the link his friend Ben had sent him.
It was the program document for graduate studies in music education at his university. Luke tried to resist the temptation to open it, but his resolve only lasted for a few minutes. If nothing else, it would be a good distraction from dwelling on how hot Puck’s owner had been.
Luke had been thinking about looking up information about graduate studies, particularly in music, but he’d been putting it off for a while. There was no point, for the most part, anyway. What he wanted and what needed to happen were two completely different things.
Why get invested in a future that couldn’t happen? That would never happen?
Still, with the document right on his laptop now, what could it hurt to have a little look?
He scrolled through the file, and felt a course of excitement thrum through him as he read the different facets of the program. The program would give him a Master’s degree, as well as a teacher’s certificate that would enable him to teach music in schools.
Luke had most of the requirements, too. He was just about to finish his degree in music, with concentrations in guitar and theory. He needed to take an exam that was required for graduate student entry, but he was good at exams. He did pretty well on his LSATs for his law school applications, and that wasn’t exactly something he was invested in.
The idea of teaching appealed to him. Music was such an important part of his life—and he owed all of that to the music classes he had in school when he was younger.
His teachers had helped him cultivate a love for music, and if it wasn’t for them, he wouldn’t have had the chance to learn how to play guitar.
Finding that perfect guitar riff, coming up with a resonant chord progression—it helped distract him from all the pressure he had growing up to have perfect marks in school. Luke shuddered at the thought of not being able to play.
I’d rather lose a limb.
He heard a ping. New email. He flipped to the tab his email was permanently on, and winced.
It was an email from his dad.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Had a colleague forward me this info. I wasn’t sure if you already knew, so I’m sending it to you, just in case.
Ottawa isn’t Dalhousie, but it’s still worth looking into. I look forward to your report.
Dad
The attachment was an event invitation for an open house at his university’s Law faculty.
Of course.
Closing his email tab, Luke sighed, leaning back against his chair. He tried to quell the disappointment swelling in his chest. He felt deflated.
The universe was always good at reminding him about his reality.
He wanted to teach. He wanted to have the opportunity to impact someone else’s life through music, just like his teachers had done for him so many years ago.
It was too bad his parents were set on him going to law school. His dad was a lawyer, his grandfather was a lawyer, his great-grandfather was a lawyer, and he was pretty sure his great-great-grandfather was a lawyer, too.
They all went to Dalhousie, a major university on the east coast, and it was expected Luke would do the same when the time came.
Luke’s future had been written in stone even before he was born. He was going to be a lawyer.
He was lucky his parents had supported his decision to major in Music, instead of Political Science, but he knew they weren’t going to be as accommodating about law school.
Slamming his laptop shut, Luke stood up and grabbed his hoodie from the hook on his bedroom door.
He didn’t want to think about the future anymore. He was glad he had dogs to walk today. The greatest thing about his job? The dogs he walked didn’t expect anything from him outside of some attention and affection.
He picked up his charges from different parts of the city before head
ing to Conroy Pit, a huge park with lots of different trails, along with a few off-leash areas. It was his favorite place to walk dogs, because it gave his charges a chance to stretch and socialize with other pups.
Luke had three dogs with him today, his usual set, and all three of them were excited to see Luke. Though, Luke was sure they were mostly excited about the park and the treats in Luke’s pockets.
He had Percy, a beautiful black standard poodle. Percy liked to eat everything, and Luke had to watch him with eagle eyes to make sure he didn’t eat anything detrimental to his health. There was Lulu, a small Pomeranian. She ruled the trio, and it was hilarious to see her boss Percy around. Last, he had Ridley, another standard poodle. He was the opposite of Percy. He liked to call Ridley a prince, because that’s what he was—princely, and very dignified. He wouldn’t be caught dead eating his own poop, something Percy sometimes had to be stopped from doing.
Luke was walking the three with Zarwah’s group today, and he was glad for the company. Zarwah was one of his closest friends—the one who got him the job at Paws and Claws—and he never saw her anymore outside of work.
“It’s like you hate me,” Zarwah said dramatically, as they walked through a long, wide trail together. Zarwah had two dogs herself, and Luke would feel jealous, except her two dogs were way more excitable, and three times as active as his own charges. They definitely gave her a work out.
“It’s because of your boyfriend. Clearly you need to break up with him, he’s been a drain to our friendship,” Luke deadpanned.
She laughed, throwing her long, black hair back. “I’ll tell him you said that.”
Making a face, Luke stuck out his tongue. “Please don’t, your boyfriend will crush me.”
Zarwah’s boyfriend, Chris, was a member of the university wrestling team. Luke didn’t actually dislike him—the opposite, in fact, but he liked to joke about Chris stealing Zarwah away from him.
“For real, though, we need to hang out. And stat,” Zarwah said. She pulled on her leash, telling her dogs to heel after they tried to go after a bird. “I swear, these two—all legs, and no brain.”
