Page 62 of Risking the Pucking Defense

“I think she’ll be okay.”

“We’ll just send you first. She can’t be mad at you.”

“Oh, great, way to make me feel guilty.”

“He’s joking. Bea loves you like a brother and you know it.”

“I…I love you guys, too. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, man. We know. And we love you too,” Rett says.

“We’re a team. Family,” Killer adds.

“Fuck,” I bark, wiping at my eyes again.

“Come on, I’ll message the others, give them the bad news that they’ve got to pick up the bill.”

“I’ll pay ’em back,” I offer.

“Shut the fuck up, Monroe. They’ve all got more than enough money to cover us.”

18

HAYDEN

This week has been a lot. But it’s also been incredible.

Getting back to it, pushing my body to its very limits, and remembering just how happy playing hockey makes me has been everything I needed.

It’s been a grueling week, even more so than I remember from last year, but I suspect that’s because it was even more of a blur the first time around. I had no idea what to expect, and I’d spent all summer training, not grieving. But despite worrying about my lack of preparation, I proved myself to still be worthy of my spot on the second line of this team. Or at least, I hope so. The coaching staff must have pushed us as hard as possible, but they’ve also given me great feedback.

I’m ready for it. Ready to jump over those boards and fight for our place in the Stanley Cup Final next year. And I know that Rylee will be looking down at me, cheering me on every step of the way.

Looping my bowtie around my neck, I step in front of my mirror.

The toll this week has taken on me is obvious with the dark shadows under my eyes. While training might have been hard, and a great distraction from everything else going on in my life, the pain and grief never leave.

The guys have been keeping an extra close eye on me. Hell, so have the girls. Every day, someone—mainly Handsy—has turned up with goodies, and I always get first choice, which I’m not going to complain about.

The cinnamon buns Freya sent in a couple of days ago were insane. I could eat those every day for the rest of my life and never get bored.

My parents' check-ins have been coming a little more regularly, and I hope that’s a sign that they’re also managing to see through the dark cloud engulfing them both.

They’ve promised to come out for both our first home exhibition game and our home opener, but I’m trying really hard not to look forward to it. They’re struggling just as much as I am, and as much as I want them close right now, I understand how hard they’re fighting.

But I’ve got their tickets ready, and I’ll just hold on to the hope that they can be there.

For the first time ever, I only needed two tickets.

All my life, no matter what league I’ve been playing in, I’ve needed three.

All three of them have always been my biggest supporters, and I don’t know how I feel about the fact that if they do come, I’ll look up and only see the two of them. There’s a part of me that thinks it’ll be easier if I don’t look. If they’re not here, then I might be able to pretend that everything is normal and they just couldn’t come. But if they’re there without her…

“Fuck,” I hiss as I secure my bowtie and check myself over in the mirror.

Last year, Rylee was my date. I used some of my signing bonus to buy her a designer dress, and I booked both her and Mom for a day of pampering before I took my sister to her first high-profile event. Although, to be fair, it was mine too, and I was shitting bricks.

She was nervous as hell. Her entire body was trembling as I took her arm and led her inside, past all the flashing cameras. A few people called my name, but seeing as I was a new draft pick and relatively unknown, others garnered way more attention. This year, I’m suspecting it’ll be a little different, and not just because Rylee isn’t going to be at my side.