Page 133 of Icebound

I brace myself, preparing for their shouts.

Chirping crickets fill the air.

I wait and wait, and then, I lift my eyes from my almost-empty whiskey. Patty’s staring at a duck floating on the lake the same way Cruz is looking into his glass, like it’s got a hidden meaning.

“Patty? Cruz?”

The chirping grows louder than their silence.

Patty sniffs, then downs the rest of his whiskey and pours himself another glass. His cowboy hat casts a shadow on his face, so I can’t see his expression. “Why this season? You could come back and play with us one more time.”

I gaze into the crackling flames because the heat of the fire burns less than their stares. “We had one hell of a season. I got you to the playoffs, Smithy can take it from here. Everyone knows I can come back from this injury, but this way, it’s my choice.”

Patty nods a few times. “Don’t you want to go out on top? Win the Cup again?”

“Nah. My ego’s not that big. I care more about the team, and I want to make sure you guys are in good hands, which you are. I trust you two to take it from here.”

He sips his whiskey. “Makes sense.”

“That’s all you have to say?”

Patty won’t look me in the eye and Cruz tosses back his whiskey, pouring another, but this time, he fills up half the glass.

“Look,” I continue. “I’ve thought long and hard about this, but I haven’t wanted to admit this because it’s tough, but my body’s falling apart, and I’m exhausted. As much as it hurts my pride to say this, I’ve been watching the games. You don’t need me like I thought. Smithy’s save percentage is right up there with mine, and—”

“I don’t give a fuck about save percentages,” Cruz interjects, throwing back his whiskey. “You think that’s why we need you?”

I dig my heel into the dirt. “Why else would you need me?”

His glare pierces me across the campfire, the flames flickering over his scowl. “We need you because you’re the first one to show up to practice and the last to leave. Because you treat the fourth line the same as the first line. You’re the one we come to for advice on plays and the guy we ask what we should buy our moms for their birthdays. We don’t need you for your save percentage or what you can do in the net. We just need you.”

Cruz downs the last of his whiskey in one gulp. He surges to his feet so fast that the camp chair tips over, and heads toward the edge of the lake. He chucks a stone in the water.

My throat’s too tight to speak, so I don’t.

Patty exhales, causing the flames to crackle. “Let him relax, but he’s right. You’re not like other goalies I’ve played with where you stick to yourself or go off with your coach. You’ve actually made an effort to integrate yourself into this team. You’re our backbone, Tremblay.” He sighs. “But as much as I hate to say it, I get why you want to retire from the League.”

I lean forward, my shoulders relaxing. “You do?”

“Yeah, I do.” He pours another finger of whiskey, then does the same for me. “I love this game, but it takes everything from you because it needs your all. It’s hard to have a life outside of the League, especially during the season, so whatever you need, whatever you want, I’ll support you.”

I try to clear the boulder in my throat with a cough, but that doesn’t work, so I take another swig. “You know I’ll always be here for you, Wyatt. No matter where I go or what I do. I’ll always—” My voice cracks, so I stop.

“I know, Tremblay. I know.” He salutes me with his glass, eyes shining in the flames. He clears his throat and opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. That’s fine by me. The tears catching on his stubble say more than words.

I stand from the chair, gripping his shoulder and squeezing as much gratitude as possible into my hold. He lifts his hand, patting mine.

It’s easy to let go of his grasp because I know I’m not really saying goodbye. With one last squeeze, I head over to Cruz.

My footsteps crunch on the pebbles. Cruz glances over his shoulder when he hears me but then whips back around to wipe his eyes. I hand him the bottle of whiskey, gazing out at the moon over the lake. “Take a sip. It helps with the burn.”

He yanks the bottle from my grasp and gulps but then splutters. “That shit’s strong.” He takes another swig. Coughs again.

I thump his back. “Alright, get it out. You want to yell at me? Let’s go.”

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “There’s nothing to say. I won’t let you retire, so you better find a way to renew your contract. We need you. There. Done.”

A grin forms on my lips despite the anger radiating off his rigid body. “The team doesn’t need me, Cruz. You’ll be alright.”