Page 41 of Scores Of The Heart

“Nope.” I lied, and it must have been pretty believable, because no one bugged me further about it.

“You were meant to do this,” I tell my brother and Amy later when they’re playing with Leon on Mom’s fluffy rug on the floor. Chris is seriously a natural with his kid, something I never really thought about until they announced Amy was pregnant. They’ve been married for two years now.

“You’ll see when it’s your own,” he said. “They’re right when they say it’s different.”

It’s not like I know much about that, even being in my thirties now. I don’t know what kind of a father I would make. It seemed like hard work to me. Some of the shit us boys put our folks through growing up was enough to make me think twice about it. I guess we still turned out alright in the end so that’s something.

“You need to come visit after the playoffs,” dad said. “We’ll be at the home games, of course.”

“Yeah, I’ll be staying a lot more at the weekender,” I replied. “Sure looking forward to a break, Pops.”

“Just keep your eye on that puck,” he said. “I think your mom is right on one thing, though; I think it’s the Hawks year this year. With your track record and all.”

“I hope so.”

“How’s your back been?”

“It’s been better,” I admitted. “A few aches and pains here and there, but nothing that’ll stop me.”

Dad nodded, but he knew fine well I’d mask it as best I could, anyway. Nothing would stop me playing for the Stanley Cup this year. Nothing.

“We’ll be rooting for you, son.”

“So far, so good.” I smiled. While my mom may be a bit pushy and in my business, she means well and they’ve both only ever supported me and my brothers in what we wanted to pursue. I know they’re proud of me.

I smile when I think about some of that conversation.

The thing I know for sure when I’m heading into Monday’s meeting is the fact I want to keep making my parents proud. Between me and Dion, we’ve certainly been able to set them up for life. They both retired last year. Now Dad spends half his time in his workshop tinkering and Mom loves her garden and creates shit in her craft room.

It feels good that we’ve been able to provide them with a comfortable retirement with no debts to worry about.

Coach Carter’s voice booms through the hallway when I’d mid-way to the vending machine for a refill. I was at my usual place this morning; stalking his daughter. I’m still too chickenshit to go over there and help her carry her files. I mean, the kiss we shared and my hands wandering over her body was hot, but then she pulled back. I don’t want to scare her off.

A wave of guilt suddenly washes over me. Especially when coach calls me into his office. His daughter had hold of my shirt the other night as we made out, and like the greedy fucker I am, I wanted more. Even though she pulled away, she was flushed and needy. Like she wanted more but didn’t know how to express it.

I know in more ways than one that I’m playing with fire.

It’s even more prominent when I’m standing in coach’s office and I see the picture of his two girls in a frame on his desk. I swallow as I sit down.

“Everything good?” I ask him.

“I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

My heart physically lurches for a second. Surely it hasn’t gotten back to him about the restaurant the other afternoon and me giving the girls a ride home? It’s not that often I get photographed out and about, but sometimes it happens. I expect it for events and ad campaigns, but not when I’m out in my civilian clothes trying to get to know the girl I like.

I’m about to ask him ‘in what way’ when he sits down with a thud and a sigh.

He’s not a tall guy, but he’s stocky and has that kind of stern look you need to be successful in this role. He’s a serious guy. And I may be a lot bigger than him, but there’s no way I’d wanna get on his bad side. That’s even before I had any interest in his daughter.

“Is the team morale okay from the locker room?” Coach asks.

I let out a silent sigh of relief I’m well aware I’m holding.

As captain, it’s one of my jobs to report back to management how the guys are. Especially when it comes to morale. I don’t have the honor of having the “C” on my jersey for nothing. It doesn’t mean I’m the best guy on the team, or the toughest, though with the latter I know I am up there with the best of them. But it comes down to leadership. Coach has often said that it’s more important than raw skill.

I have a responsibility to lead the team and make myself available to each and every player when they need it. Hence, why I focused on turning things around right before I was appointed captain. I can’t get away with most of the shit I used to do as a small-time rookie. It doesn’t stop them from calling me the Hawks’ bad boy, but I’d like to think I’m reformed to some degree.

Coach and management made it clear in no uncertain terms what it meant to be captain. I’m the voice of the team. The guy the team will look to first, sometimes even more so than the coach when things get tough. I study the game in depth too.

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