They all surround me… Bishop, Dax, Aaron, Erik, and Legend. Pats of their gloved hands on my helmet, stick blades gently against my calves.
Win, lose, or draw, I’m grateful for this moment. I’m back where I need to be, and there’s no way I’m ever fucking this up again.
Oddly, I wonder if Nora’s watching on TV and I don’t even chastise myself for letting my thoughts go there.
I hope she is.
Watching.
Knowing that part of me being here is because of what she’s done.The team continues to celebrate our win in the locker room. Shouts, loud jokes, slaps of towels on asses. Something I had not participated in since coming to the Vengeance, and I actually don’t participate in it now. It’s a bit overwhelming and while it felt natural on the ice to be back on the team, I’m not sure of my place here. I’ve caused a lot of hardship on this team because of my attitude and behavior that this feels just a little too strange.
Shower complete, I stand at my locker and work on getting dressed. We’ll be taking the team bus back to the hotel. Because our next game isn’t until day after tomorrow in Los Angeles, we’ll stay overnight here.
A hand comes down on my shoulder and I twist my neck to see Rafe standing there. “Awesome game, man. God help our opponents once that cast comes off.”
My smile comes easy in response to the genuine nature of his praise. He’s not bitter in the slightest that he’s been bumped back to second line. “Thanks, Rafe. Appreciate it.”
He nods and drifts away.
“So… truth… how’d it feel?” Aaron asks as he comes up to my side, a towel wrapped around his waist. Flipping a leg over the bench, he sits with legs splayed. “Great to be back on the ice?”
Grimacing, I turn my head away. “Dude… I don’t need to see your junk.”
Snickering, Aaron pats his thighs. “My man… this is what the ladies love. The Wylde secret place.”
“You’re fucking gross,” I mutter, but I do it while suppressing a laugh. Aaron thinks he’s God’s gift to women, but he at least comes by it honestly. He’s a fucking chick magnet.
Swinging his leg over and then popping to his feet, he moves in closer to my locker and leans a shoulder against it. His expression turns serious. “But really… how did it feel out there? Because you looked like a different man out there.”
That gives me pause, my fingers freezing on the buttons of my dress shirt. I ask, “What do you mean?”
“I may be new to the team, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t watch you when I could on TV,” he says in a low voice. “You played great this season, but you played with a weight on your shoulders. It was obvious. Tonight, though… you looked like you were having the time of your life out there.”
Probably only Aaron would ever notice that about me, and it makes me smile. And he’s fucking right. It felt different out there.
My gaze going to my buttons, I admit, “I felt like me again out there.”
His hand comes to my shoulder, squeezes. “Happy for you, buddy.”
“Hey, if you two girls want to stop flirting with each other a moment,” a deep voice drawls from behind us. “I’m taking a headcount for Flemings.”
Aaron’s hand falls away, and we turn to see Bishop behind us. “First-line celebration. You in? And you have to say yes, because otherwise, it’s not the first line.”
My initial reaction is to decline. While my teammates never gave up on me this entire season and invited me to every single team function, I always said “no”. They probably wouldn’t be shocked if I did the same right now.
But then Nora’s words come to me. Enjoy the moment.
For some reason, it helps to know she is giving me tacit permission to enjoy this newfound reconnection to the sport and my teammates. It’s validation that I’m allowed to do this without guilt weighing me down.
“Yeah… we’re in,” I tell Bishop, knowing Aaron wants to go. He’s always up for a night out.
“Really?” Bishop asks, sounding a bit thunderstruck over my acceptance.
I roll my eyes. “Yeah… fucking really.”
Bishop snorts and moves off, and I accept I might be the subject of some ribbing in the coming weeks as I acclimate into the team dynamic.
Within half an hour, everyone is dressed and on the team bus. The ride to the hotel only takes about ten minutes. When we disembark, we don’t even enter the lobby. Flemings, a highly recommended and posh steakhouse, is just a few blocks down and we’ve already decided to walk to it.
Bishop had called ahead for a table. There’s seven of us—me, Aaron, Bishop, Legend, Dax, Erik, and Blue. Yes, this is a first-line dinner, but Blue travels with the team as a flight attendant, so she is automatically included. Part of being on a hockey team is the family dynamic. I’ve never had that be more apparent than on this team.