Not with what he’s been through.
“No earbuds,” I say, and he looks at me in confusion. I point to his ears. “You don’t listen to music?”
“Nah,” he says with an accompanying shake of his head. “Doesn’t do anything for me.”
Fuck, that just makes me incredibly sad. I know exactly why it does nothing for him, because I don’t think there’s much that moves this man. I notice it when we eat as a team. He’s like a robot, cutting his food, chewing it methodically, facial expression never changing even if he tastes the most delectable thing in the world. He swallows, starts the process over again.
In fact, I’d have to say that if Tacker Hall didn’t have hockey, I’m not sure he’d be alive. I think it might be the only thing that keeps this shell of a man living.
“What’s up?” I hear as someone claps me hard on the back. I turn left and see Erik jumping onto a bike.
He looks past me to nod to Tacker, who I assume does the same back. Then his gaze comes back to me. “Dude…did you get that crazy girl home last night?”
“Fuck, she’s a mess,” I tell him, and then give him the rundown of everything that happened.
“Yeah, I figured she was bad news. You know how you can just tell with some women. I’m glad she picked Dax over me that first night.”
I don’t tell him just how lucky he was, given that Dax told me she was awful in bed. Dax wouldn’t really tell anyone else, as he’s not like that, and it’s not my confidence to share.
“But Bishop…man…let me tell you about this girl I was with last night,” Erik says, jumping to a new subject.
He starts rambling on and I listen while I continue my bike ride.
After about fifteen minutes, Erik, Tacker, and I all head back to the locker room. Our strength and conditioning coach leads the team through a dynamic stretch, and then we play two-touch for about ten minutes to complete our locker room warm-up. Seems a bit weird to warm up with a soccer ball in the hallway before a hockey game, but it’s our thing and it works well. It gets our legs completely fired up and our lungs opened. It’s also a good way to get our goalies warmed up, as we take shots at them that aren’t quite as hard or fast as a puck.
Now things are getting real. We get dressed and recheck our equipment. In a few minutes, we’ll hit the ice for our warm-ups, and I’ll try hard not to locate Brooke in the stands.
When we come off the ice, the players will take the top part of our equipment off to cool down a bit. I usually snag another cup of coffee and down a protein bar. At the ten-minute mark before the game starts, Coach Perron will come in and talk strategy with us.
We’ll do a last-minute equipment check.
I’ll retape a stick to keep my hands busy.
We’ll get fully dressed again, and then we’ll head down the tunnel that will lead us out onto the ice.
This is when the energy is at its highest and we’re all fully focused on the game.
This is what I live for.
And yet, when I step out onto the ice, my eyes immediately go to where Brooke is sitting.Chapter 23BrookeThe door on my mailbox is sticking again, and when I give it a hard pull the damn thing comes right off. I stare at it morosely for a moment before grabbing my mail with a resigned sigh.
Classic Monday.
Trudging back up the slope of my driveway, I head to the passenger side of my vehicle where I toss the mailbox door onto the floor in exchange for the large pizza on the seat. I picked it up on the way home from an exhausting day at work so I wouldn’t have to cook dinner.
Oh, Monday. I used to love you.
When I lived in New York, the start of the new week was actually something to be excited about. I know that’s because I loved my job and the motivation I derived from it. That was the benefit of working for a great boss and mentor. I could put in a ten-hour day and still come home completely energized.
Here? Mondays are just kind of blah. The people are nice to work with, but the work isn’t all that challenging. Team services is absolutely not a two-person job. I end up doing most of the grunt work and my boss takes the credit for it, which is fine, but again, it’s just not that hard to arrange hotels, travel, and meals. I do think I would be more stimulated over in merchandising, but I have absolutely no clue if that’s even a real potential for me. Sebastian could just be blowing smoke up my ass about transferring there. He interviewed Nanette this afternoon and I haven’t heard a word from either her or him. Sebastian hasn’t even sent me any work to do, which is unusual.