Page 8 of Pucking Amazing

Jason shifts uncomfortably, his gaze flicking away before meeting mine again.

“I don’t know, doc. It’s just been...a lot, you know? The pressure to perform, to be a guy everyone can count on, both here and at home. I’ve been trying to make my wife and kid proud of me. I guess I’ve been leaning on the bottle a bit too much to take the edge off.”

I mentally wince when he calls me doc. Technically, yes, I am a doctor—I completed my MD. But that fuckwad Paul convinced me to drop out of my psychiatry residency before I could complete it.

He told me that the pressure was too much for me, and I believed him. He convinced me that I would never make a good psychiatrist, that it had been a waste of my time to pursue a MD at all.

So I’m a doctor who isn’t licensed to practice medicine…hence, becoming a counselor.

I brush the thoughts awake and refocus on Jason, nodding empathetically. “That’s a common coping mechanism, especially in high-stress environments like professional sports. Can you tell me more about what those pressures are like for you day-to-day?”

Jason sighs, rubbing a hand over his close-cropped hair.

“It’s like, I’m one of the vets now, you know? The young guys look up to me. I gotta set the tone, be the rock. And with everything that went down in Canada...” He trails off, shaking his head.

“The bar fight, you mean?” I prompt gently.

“Yeah. Not my finest moment.” Jason’s mouth twists ruefully. “I just saw red, you know? Mike was running his mouth, and I just lost it. I’m so ashamed that my two-year-old will be able to google me and find news stories about that some day. I’m supposed to be better than that. I am better than that.”

His tone is fierce, almost like he’s trying to convince himself.

“Recognizing that is an important first step,” I affirm. “It sounds like you have high expectations for yourself, both on and off the ice.”

“I guess so.” Jason’s posture loosens infinitesimally, his arms uncrossing. “I just want to be someone my team can depend on. DJ, Slade, Lukas, Tyler, all the guys—they’re like brothers to me.”

I perk up at the mention of DJ and Tyler, the two players who caught my eye yesterday. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t eagerly scoured the team roster to find their faces, reading up on their bios last night alongside those of my three patients.

But I keep my expression neutral as I probe further.

“Tell me more about the team dynamics. Who are you closest to?”

A fond smile tugs at Jason’s mouth. “DJ for sure. The guy’s amazing—so skilled on the ice, but so laid back and fun off it. He’s been a real friend, you know?”

I make a mental note of the warmth in Jason’s voice. “And Tyler? I noticed you mentioned him as well.”

“Tyler’s a good kid. Works his ass off out there, real dedicated. I feel bad that my actions contributed to him having to take on Adam’s role. To be honest, I don’t know him quite as well, but he seems like he’s got a good head on his shoulders.” He pauses, a slight smirk forming on his face. “And I think he likes DJ even better than I do.”

I tilt my head in confusion at his tone. “What do you mean by that?”

Jason waves it aside, laughing. “Oh nothing, nothing.”

I steer our conversation back to Jason’s personal journey, but I can’t help turning over those nuggets about DJ and Tyler in my mind.

There’s a part of me that’s eager to learn more about whatever is going on between these two gorgeous men—a curiosity that is both professional and, if I’m being honest with myself, personal.

I push aside those distracting thoughts for now, refocusing on the vulnerable man in front of me, who’s taken the brave first step of starting to open up. Time slips away as I find myself back in a familiar groove, jotting down notes as Jason patiently answers my questions.

Jason is surprisingly easy to talk to. The session wraps up and he heads out, and the satisfaction rushing through me is a pleasant reminder as to why I got into this work in the first place.

Next, Mikey slouches into my office, all tense shoulders and guarded eyes. He flops onto the couch across from me with an air of insolence.

I have a sneaking suspicion that this appointment isn’t going to be quite so productive.

“So you’re the shrink they brought in to fix us, huh?” he says with a sneer. “Good luck with that.”

I paste on a patient smile. “I’m not here to fix anyone, Mikey. I’m here to listen and provide some tools that could help the team communicate and work together better.”

He scoffs. “Right. Because a few heart-to-hearts are going to magically make everything better. News flash, lady—you don’t know shit about us or what we deal with.”

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