Page 7 of Pucking Amazing

It sounds pathetic, even to my own ears.

Sarah nods slowly. “Right. Well, that’s... admirable.” The conversation limps along from there, every exchange more strained than the last.

By the time the waiter brings the check, I’m exhausted, wrung out from the effort of pretending to be someone I’m not. Someone fully engaged during first dates with random women.

Someone who isn’t weirdly obsessed with his teammate.

We say our goodbyes on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. Sarah goes in for a hug and I reciprocate stiffly, patting her back.

“This was fun,” I lie. “I’ll, uh, call you sometime.”

She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Sure. Sounds good.”

We both know I won’t call.

I watch her walk away, her blonde hair swaying, and feel...nothing. No regret, no disappointment. Just a hollow sort of relief that the date is finally over.

But as I climb into my car, the full weight of my situation crashes down on me. I rest my forehead against the steering wheel, gripping it hard enough to turn my knuckles white.

What the hell is wrong with me?

CHAPTER 3

SYDNEY

It’s still early as I stride into the practice facility, the thud of my sneakers echoing in the quiet hallway. The place is mostly empty, but I want to get a head start on my first day of sessions as the team’s new counselor.

In my hand I grip my notepad, already covered in scribbles with thoughts and plans. Three names on it jump out at me: Jason Kirkland, Mikey Torres, Tomas Novak.

The players at the center of the bar brawl incident.

My plan today is to meet with each of them individually, to start building the trust and rapport that will be so crucial to helping them move forward.

I find my new office and drop my bag on the chair. It’s small but bright, with a window overlooking the practice rink.

I smile, allowing myself a moment to take it in, to appreciate how far I’ve come since…

No, I don’t want to follow that thought right now.

I pull out the slim files I’ve been given on each player and start leafing through them, my mind snapping into therapist mode.

Jason Kirkland, right winger, known for his aggressive playing style and rebellious streak off the ice. Rumored alcohol abuse. Otherwise, a pretty clean record.

Mikey Torres, the rookie center with a world of talent and a chip on his shoulder. Suspected drug use. Reading between the lines on what I could find online, a seemingly volatile family situation.

And Tomas Novak, the veteran forward, steady and solid on the ice but clearly struggling with something in his personal life. But what exactly that is—anyone’s guess. Gambling addiction? Marital problems? Untreated mental health issues?

Hmmm.

Happily, the hockey lingo is starting to make some more sense after my extensive Google and Wikipedia deep dive last night. So at least that part is less of a mystery.

Three men, each battling their own demons. My job is to guide them, to give them the tools and support to find their own way out of the darkness.

Something I know a lot about myself.

A few hours later, I settle into the chair across from Jason, taking in his guarded posture—arms crossed defensively over his broad chest, jaw clenched tight. But there’s a vulnerability in his eyes that belies the tough exterior.

“Thanks for meeting with me today, Jason,” I begin, keeping my tone warm and non-judgmental. “I know this process can be a little daunting at first, but I’m here to support you however I can. Why don’t you start by telling me a bit about what’s been going on with you lately?”

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