Page 4 of Securing the Pucking Rebound

I distract her by regaling her with some of the tales Garrett shared today, and before I know it, those pesky ten minutes are up, and Rett’s deep voice is filling the line.

“I’ll let you go get that foot rub. Call me in the morning?” I ask.

“You got it. Enjoy the unpacking.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” As if I could forget.

“Love you, bye.”

“Love you.”

Silence fills my apartment, but I don’t have time to dwell on the lack of male-delivered pleasure in my life. I have far too much to do. And anyway, I don’t even want a man, not really.

I finish the kitchen and then move onto the bathroom, but only because I desperately want a shower.

The second I’m out, I find an old T-shirt and some sleep shorts, and I fall into my bed with still-wet hair. I don’t care, though. That’s a future me’s problem.

The last thing I remember is hearing a thud from one of my neighbors before sleep claims me.

2

CALVIN

My groan of frustration bounces off the walls of my home gym as I drop the dumbbells to the floor. I can still lift as heavily as I could before, but it’s not the same. Having a fucked-up leg is ruining everything.

Sure, not being able to play hockey fucking sucks. This isn’t my first injury, although it is my worst to date, and something tells me that it won’t be my last. I have every confidence that I’ll get back on the ice after I’ve recovered from this. But…but will I still be in the Vipers barn?

My contract is coming to an end soon, and so far, the team seems to be doing great without me. What if they don’t want to re-sign me? What if this is the end of my time in LA?

There are some incredible teams out there. But it doesn’t matter how good they are, how big my chances are of playing in another Stanley Cup Final, or securing a spot on the Olympic team. I don’t want to be anywhere but here.

My friends are here. Hell, they’re not just my friends. They’re my goddamn family.

My chest heaves, sweat running down my skin and soaking into the waistband of my shorts.

I was at the arena all day, working on my rehab and attending team meetings with the guys as if everything is normal.

But it’s not normal, and I fear it never will be again.

While the guys are all working on drills, I’m stuck in the gym, attempting to ride a fucking bike.

Pain tears through my chest as I think about how hard it is to move that fucking pedal.

I hate feeling weak and incapable. It brings back memories that have no place in my life now.

I did it. I achieved my dream. I fought against all the doubt and beat all the odds.

The skinny little runt of a boy from a small town no one has ever heard of in Texas made it all the way to the NHL.

And it wasn’t just everyone around me who doubted my skills and ability to make my dream a reality. A lot of the time, I didn’t think I’d make it either.

But here I am living in a penthouse in LA and playing for an incredible team that made it all the way to the finals last year.

I’m also surrounded by the most amazing people.

My teammates are some of the best friends I’ve ever had. And the girls they seem to keep collecting are pretty cool, too.

Not so long ago, we were all a bunch of single guys living our best lives as professional hockey players and reaping all the benefits that come with it.