Page 3 of King

The rest of our players pour in and we all dress in our practice gear. Tomorrow’s game is an important one. The Cold Fury are two-time defending Cup champions, the last win coming just four years ago, and they still have a tight roster. While we’re putting up impressive numbers all around, it would be a boost to this newly formed team to beat the former champions.

Coach West arrives and reads from his iPad the list of drills we’ll be doing today, as well as the specifics of what he wants each line to work on. We’ll start by watching some video before we hit the ice, narrowing in on the three Cold Fury lines we’ll be battling against. We’re all listening intently when Callum walks into the dressing room. He hovers behind Coach, looking around the space until his eyes zero in on Van Turner. He’s also a third-line defenseman who joined the team late last season after coming out of retirement and is one of the best veteran players in the league.

“Turner,” he calls out, and Coach West turns in surprise to see Callum there, pointing at Van. Normally our GM doesn’t make appearances at practices. “Your wife’s trying to get in touch with you.”

All eyes turn toward Van, who pales at the proclamation. He dives for his phone in his cubby, muttering curses. “Fucking had it on vibrate.” We all watch silently as his fingers fumble with the screen and then he curses some more. He makes a call and we all listen shamelessly as it connects. “Simone? Are you okay?”

Whatever she says is loud enough he winces and slightly pulls the phone from his ear.

“Okay, baby… I’m on my way.”

Van disconnects and looks at the phone as if it’s going to explode before he lifts his head to all of us waiting. A huge grin breaks out on his face. “Simone’s in labor.”

A rousing cheer goes up as we’ve all been waiting for this. She’s still a few days out from her due date but we’ve got bets riding on when she delivers. I’m out of the running because I thought she’d go late, but Atlas fist pumps and whispers, “If she goes the average length of time for labor, I’ve got a good chance to win the pool.”

I elbow him in the ribs, snickering. Van dresses in his street clothes faster than anyone I’ve ever seen. We all gather round, offering well wishes, as he nearly sprints to the door.

“Christ, my hands are shaking,” he mutters.

Our assistant coach, Gage Heyward, puts a hand on his shoulder. “Come on… I’ll drive you. We can’t afford to have you get in an accident because you’re so rattled.”

We all watch with amusement as Gage leads him away and Coach West’s gaze goes back to his tablet. But before he can read out the next line of drills we’ll work on, he does a double take back toward Callum, still loitering in the dressing room.

His gaze drops to Callum’s left hand, mouth hanging slightly open, and I see what he does.

A wedding ring on his fourth finger.

“Well, that’s new.” Foster chuckles.

Coach grins at Callum. “Something you need to announce to the team?”

It’s clear he has an announcement and no intention of hiding it, so he proudly holds up his hand for us all to see the dark silver band. “As you might have noticed, I’ve got a new piece of jewelry.”

“You got married?” Coach asks incredulously and then sweeps his hand out to us players. “Without the good grace to invite us or even let us throw you a bachelor party?”

Callum waves him off with a laugh. “I’m too old for such things. Besides, Juniper and I are pretty low-key and there was no sense in waiting.”

Coach West clasps his hand and pulls him into a hug. “Congratulations.”

Another torrent of cheers and we all push forward, waiting to share our good wishes. Callum Derringer is beloved on this team. He built us from literally nothing and it was his savvy negotiations over the summer that blew up the hockey world with those earth-shattering trades.

No one is really surprised he got married on the fly. He and Juniper were high school and college sweethearts who didn’t quite work out back then but recently reconnected. I don’t know the whole story but those players who were here before me couldn’t be happier for our GM because it couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.

That makes me happy for him too.

I can’t help but smile as I sit down to lace my skates. It’s not even lunch yet and it’s been a good day. Woke up in my new condo, played some video games, I’m on a team withchampionship potential, my buddy Foster has found love with Mazzy, Van’s about to become a dad, and our GM just got married.

It fills me with optimism and hope that anything I put my mind to can be accomplished and I believe that only good things await me. I just have to be ready to take advantage of it.

CHAPTER 2

Willa

The familiar scentof the rink ice hits me as soon as we enter the building. A mix of cold, crisp air and a faint metallic tang. It’s a smell that takes me back to my childhood, to the countless hours I spent on the ice, finding solace in the rhythmic scrape of my figure skates. It was an escape from my father’s anger and the tension that always hung in the air at home. The ice became my refuge, a place where I could be free. Each glide, each jump, was a haven away from what was often a scary place to live.

The ice rink looks no different from the one I attended during my skating days back home in upstate New York. The boards around the rink are scuffed from years of use, and the overhead lights cast a bright, almost sterile glow. I close my eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply, the cold air filling my lungs. It’s strange how the cold can feel so comforting.

This multiplex is buzzing with energy though because it’s all about kids’ hockey today. Parents chat on the sidelines of the various rinks, bundled up in jackets and scarves as the temperatures start to really dip in mid-November. Kids dart around on wee skates, their laughter echoing through the cavernous space. A pang of nostalgia hits me while watching them, remembering the countless hours I spent perfecting my routines.

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