Page 1 of The Callahan Effect

Prologue

NOTE TO READERS

The following names are all products of the author’s imagination and should not resemble any factual institution.

Great Lakes Arena in Minneapolis

Evergreen Red Cedars

Washington Icemen

Inland Northwest University

Providence Sacred Heart Medical Center

Lake Superior Mariners

Gulf Coast.

I have bolded text where Jack responds on his phone to avoid constant repetition of phrases like, "he typed," "his fingers worked the keys," etc.

Cover by Carabell

Images: Depositphotos

Edited: Redline Editing

Proofread: Leanne Rogers

Published by: Lipstick Publishing

Disclaimer

This book is a product of imagination and a work of fiction.

Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental or historical.

Chapter One

MASON

The captain announced our descent into Spokane just as I closed the textbook resting on the tray table in front of me. I'd spent most of the flight from Minneapolis attempting to revise muscle physiology, although I couldn't honestly claim much of it had stayed in my head. Between leaving Florida for the first time in my life and wondering whether I'd made the biggest decision of my twenty-one years wisely, concentration had become an impossible goal. Every page I'd read dissolved beneath thoughts of what lay ahead, leaving me staring out the window at a landscape unlike anything I'd ever called home.

Florida stretched flat in all directions, the horizon broken only by high-rise apartments, bridges, and swaying palms. Washington looked as though someone had sculpted it with impossible patience. Mountains rose in the distance, their dark green slopes catching the afternoon sunlight and lakes reflected the sky like polished glass. Even from several thousand feet in the air, the sheer size of the city below made me feel remarkably small.

I wasn't usually intimidated by new experiences. Hockey had taken me across the country often enough to dull the novelty of airports and unfamiliar hotels, but traveling for tournaments bore little resemblance to relocating my entire life. Those trips always ended with a flight home. This one ended with a residence hall, a new team, professors who had never heard my name outside a recruiting report and a coach who had made it abundantly clear that reputation counted for nothing once training camp began.

Entering the transfer portal after my sophomore season had been the hardest decision I'd made since leaving home for college. Looking back, Coach Patrick Callahan's honesty convinced me I'd made the right decision.

Leaving Gulf Coast University hadn't been an easy decision. The program had given me the chance to establish myself as one of the country's premier collegiate forwards. Two All-American selections, a conference scoring title, and a reputation as the hardest legal hitter in college hockey had ensured I wasn't short of options. I'd formed friendships that would last a lifetime and I'd played some of the best hockey of my career wearing its colors. Walking away had never been about dissatisfaction. It had been about recognizing that opportunities capable of changing a player's future rarely presented themselves twice.

Within days of my name appearing in the portal, coaches from across the country began calling. Some promised immediate top-line minutes. Others spoke confidently about building their offense around me, as though moving a few magnets across a whiteboard guaranteed championships. One coach spent the better part of an hour explaining exactly how many goals he expected me to score if I committed to his program. By the time the conversation ended, I knew he'd learned nothing about the person sitting on the other end of the phone.

Coach Patrick Callahan approached things differently. A three-time Stanley Cup champion, he'd taken Evergreen to eight Frozen Four finals, emerging as national champions in five of them. His reputation commanded respect long before he ever introduced himself, yet he never tried to impress me with promises or statistics. Instead, he flew to Florida, sat across from me in a conference room overlooking Gulf Coast's practice rink and spoke with a level of honesty I'd encountered only rarely throughout the recruitment process.

"I've watched every shift you've played over the past two seasons, Mason. You already know you can play this game. That's not why I'm here. I'm here because I think you've still got another level in you, and I believe Evergreen is the place you'll find it. If you want someone to promise you easy minutes, I'm wasting your time. If you want to earn everything you get, we'd like you wearing our jersey."

There had been no glossy presentation, no exaggerated claims, and no attempt to flatter my ego. He outlined Evergreen's expectations, the standard he demanded from all players who pulled on the jersey and the opportunities available both on the ice and in the classroom. The meeting lasted less than thirty minutes, yet by the time I walked back to my car I knew my decision had already been made.