Page 4 of Fated Shot

Reid kept bugging me to get back on Tinder. I finally admitted that I had my sights set on someone already, a mystery girl I’d seen at the café, but I hadn’t quite worked up the courage to ask her out yet. Not a lie, technically speaking, but I happened to leave out the part that I hadn’t even managed a conversation with her. Penn hasn’t dropped it since.

The doorbell rings again. “Oh yeah, I invited Benner,” Penn calls to the group as he stands up from the couch and walks toward the door.

As it opens, Theo Benson stands in the middle of the doorway. He’s a smaller build, maybe five foot ten, and his light brown hair is cut short, doing nothing to hide his baby face. The kid is lightning fast on the ice, and his reflexes are unmatched. He plays with the skill of a seasoned veteran, he’s one of the best players in the league and is pegged to only get better. Didn’t get to know him well last season, he spends more time on the ice than any guy on the team and between practice, the weight room, and games, I’d rather take a step away from the rink during my free time rather than opt to spend extra time there. Penn’s been training with him this summer, they’re around the same age, both brimming with talent and seem to bring out the best in each other. I’m grateful he’s had someone else in the city to spend his time with.

Following him to the door, I call out, “Hey, Benner, great to see you, man,” with a smile, leaning in to slap his outreached hand.

“Thanks, yeah, I heard you were in Wyndham for the summer. It sounded really nice from what Brooksy’s been telling me.”

“Yeah, it was great. Come on in. Pizza’s on the counter. Grab a seat anywhere.”

Theo shifts a little nervously from one foot to the other, still not having moved more than a few steps from the door. “Thanks so much for having me. I, uh, brought brownies if anyone wants some…” he tentatively shares with the group.

“Oh fuck yeah, Benner brought brownies,” Evan calls out as he returns from the bathroom, slapping him jovially on the back before diving into the box he’s carrying to grab two. He plops back down on my couch, passing the other brownie to Max. Stuffing them in their mouths, they both nod approvingly as they jump back into their game.

“Looks like you’re in,” I joke quietly to Theo, as his posture relaxes, walking over to grab a seat by the kitchen island with Penn.

***

My alarm goes off as I roll over to grab my phone. Unplugging it from the charger on my bedside table, I shoot off a quick text.

Me:Coffee, jog, then rink?

Penn:ttoo earlly

Me:Good, you’re up, be ready in 10.

Penn:youre tge wordstt

We’re both walking out the large glass doors of our apartment building fifteen minutes later, headed to Java, the coffee shop nestled between Maplewood Tower and Oakcrest Tower. The coffee is decent, but it doesn’t hold a candle to Cordelia’s. We stop quickly, chug our drinks, and make our way to the park just as the sun is rising.

A lot of the guys choose to live in the Parkside Place complex. It’s close to the rink, has great facilities, and is just a short walk to a lot of the local restaurants and bars.

The green space out front also has an awesome running trail that I can usually drag Penn to in the mornings. Usually being the operative word, with excuses being Penn’s full-time job.

My well-intentioned jog turned into a leisurely walk thanks to Mr. Motivated, who needed to ‘rest his muscles.’ As we finish up and head back to our apartments, the morning’s already in full swing.

“Don’t forget a change of clothes for family skate,” I mention as we’re standing in the elevator.

“Yes, Dad,” Penn mocks as he crosses his arms. “We can’t skip it, can we?” he asks hopefully.

“No,” I quip back. “It’s not just about showing up on the ice on game day. We’ve gotta be there for all the guys on the team. It’s a wholesome event. Skate around for a bit, pose for pictures, and have a fun time.”

Penn nods as the doors open and he heads into his apartment. I make my way over to my door, stepping into my freshly cleaned apartment. I had to scrub it down after my uninvited visitors decided it would be a good idea to eat pizza and brownies on my white couch. They are great guys, but there is nothing I like more than having my space to myself. I hang up my bag, kick off my shoes into their spot on the rack, and head straight for the shower.

It’s the first game of the pre-season today, low stakes, but a stark reminder that it’s time to focus up. I’ve kept up with my training all summer, but I let myself get a little toodistracted.It’s back to work. The boys are counting on me to hold down the team. Two more seasons, I have to keep my head down, keep grinding, and avoid getting too beat up out there.

Family skate is usually not for me. An hour of slowly skating in circles, watching everyone else making memories? No thanks, but it’s a good event for the team and good for Penn to start learning the ropes of being a full-time part of the Tundra.

I finish getting ready, pack my bag, and make it down to the car. The traffic is light on the way to the rink. As we pull in, a few tailgaters are already parked in the lot near the players and staff entrance. The locker room begins to fill as I settle into my stall, my Brody #16 name plate hanging on top. I drop my bag beside the bench and begin my pre-game ritual, starting with stretches to loosen up my muscles before strapping on my pads.

As we march through the tunnel toward the gleaming ice, the stadium lights flicker to life ahead of us. Excited chatter echoes throughout the arena as fans prepare for the first showing of our team. The announcer booms over the speakers, “Ladies and Gentlemen, we thank you for joining us today as we introduce to you… your Toronttoooo Tundraaaa!” Cheers erupt when we burst onto the ice, slapping our sticks as we all do a quick circle around the rink.

The game started off fairly eventless as we worked together to find our groove. Pre-season games are always an opportunity for us to find our stride again, see who can shine on the ice, and test out a few different lines. A rare penalty may arise, but mostly accidental, making my job a lot easier.

We’re winning 3-1 as we approach mid-way through the third period. Pre-season or not, we’re all wired for one thing: victory. I can sense aggravation growing from the visiting team. Notsurprising, competition is in our blood. The puck glides into our zone, making its way around the boards to nestle behind our net. Penn chases after it, head down, looking to recapture control of the puck.

As he skates forward, one of their forwards gains traction, beelining right to check him into the boards. I spring into action, bounding behind him to crunch him into the boards before he reaches Penn. With my momentum, I’m also pushed into the glass, eyes forced to look briefly to the crowd, catching a glimpse of something golden ahead of me.

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