Page 40 of My Pucking Perfect Goalie

“Well,” I mutter, looking down into my drink, “I wouldn’t say it likethat—”

“We’d have to make sure she didn’t recognize me at work.”

“I mean…” I laugh, gesturing to her huge wig with my drink. “You’re pretty unrecognizable now.”

Her eyes go big, and she slowly reaches up to touch her hair.

“You’re right,” she says, never taking her eyes from me. “And my makeup is different. I wonder if the woman you’re seeing right now, and the woman I am at the arena and in other professional contexts, if they could stay completely separate.”

“Okay,” I say, ignoring the way my heart starts to thud in my chest.

The whole thing is a little silly, and there’s the chance that Harper catches on immediately, but that doesn’t quiet the voice in my head. And it’s saying that this is my chance to spend more time with Finn outside of work. To have her like this, proposing schemes and trying new things. Sitting across from me, her ankle brushing against mine under the table.

And I’ll take what I can get.

“Oh, one more thing,” Finn says, her eyes flashing in the way that says she’s about to make me do something I don’t want to.

“What?” I ask, already wincing.

“If I do this for you—because itisoutside the bounds of my contract, and could cause me some problems—thenyouhave to do something forme.”

“Name it.’

“Go through with the skydiving,” she says, smiling when I deflate and look to the ceiling dramatically. “For real this time. Take the leap. Don’t make me beg.”

That statement does something strange to my stomach, but I just grab a napkin, wipe my hand, then hold it out to her across the table.

“Okay,” I say, when she takes my hand and gives it a solid pump. Her’s is smaller than mine, obviously, but still strong. Warm. “It’s a deal.”

***

Our initial regular season game against the Maple Leafs takes place on the first weekend of November. I thought it was starting to get chilly in Burlington, but Toronto is truly cold, and we’re bundled up as we file into the arena for warm-ups.

“I just have this good feeling about today,” Brett is saying at my side, his steps practically bouncing.

“You say that every day,” I laugh, trying to keep from rolling my eyes. Since he got with Fallon, Brett has been nothing but a beacon of optimism. Sometimes, like today, it’s a little annoying.

It’s easy to be positive when everything falls into place for you.

“That’s because it’s true,” he says, throwing the door to the visitor’s locker room open hard enough that I can follow him in without touching it. Inside, the scene is chaos—players talking and shouting, stuffing their things into lockers, making plans for warm-ups.

“The locker room is an essential part of your pre-game routine,”Finn had said, her eyes serious in her office.“Don’t engage inanykind of nonsense—”

“Nonsense?”

“Yes,”she’d said, giving me a look. “Nonsense. You know exactly what I’m talking about—use those noise-canceling headphones and just try to get into the zone.”

We’d spent a lot of time talking about “the zone.” What it is, and how psychology can help me reach that state. Now, true to my word, I reach into my bag, give Brett an apologetic look, and put the headphones on, listening to the “deep focus” frequencies Finn downloaded for me.

She was absolutely right when we first met. There are so many things she asks of me that feel ridiculous—like listening to this buzzing in my ears to focus me—but I’m trying to take them in stride. Give them a genuine shot.

“Some things will work, some won’t,”she’d said in her office.“Our job is just to give them all a fair shot.”

“Okay,”I said, but something in my tone must have alerted her to my skepticism, because she stopped, bracing her hands on her desk. I had to avert my eyes to keep from staring at her chest.

“Listen—I have so many test cases and data spreads I could show you about this, but I’m going to tell you about a pretty simple example that most people have heard of.”

“Okay.”

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