Page 10 of Offside Attraction

They found their lockers, stripped off their gear, grabbed towels, and walked over the peeling rubber mats to the showers.

"Hey Nate, is the Zamboni driver gonna be disappointed you didn't get her number?" Cam called out from under the spray.

Nate laughed. "Shut your hole. I was being polite, admiring her work ethic."

Chubs snorted. "Yeah, nothing says hard work like driving in circles."

"You know what, Chubs? Maybe you should look into dating a Zamboni driver. That way, you can finally have someone who knows how to handle a short knob."

Jordan laughed as the hot water beat down on his neck, running in steady rivulets over his shoulders and back. He grabbed the soap, scrubbing at the sweat and the layer of grime from drills and sprints. His shoulders ached from the weight room yesterday, arms heavy from passing drills, but that would all be gone soon enough. Replaced by the fluorescent lights and antiseptic smell of the ER.

He worked the soap over his chest and stomach, then braced a hand on the tile and tipped his head into the spray. The guys’ voices drifted from the locker room, laughing, joking. They’d be out the door soon, heading home for leftovers, Netflix, maybe a couple beers. Simple, easy.

He rinsed off and grabbed his towel. He’d be off by dinner time for the rest of his shifts that week, but he’d swapped his Friday afternoon for a night to ensure he wouldn’t miss the game. It would be brutal coaching his youth team the next evening, but he’d get to nap all morning. Hopefully, since it wasn’t a weekend, the urgent care would be quiet.

Steele grabbed his towel and started drying off. "You think they'll ever fix these showers? I swear, every time I turn it on, it's like playing Russian roulette with scalding hot and freezing cold."

Cam nodded. "It's like trying to wash off with a dribbly garden hose."

Nate snorted. "Hey, at least we have showers. I remember playing in rinks where we had to change in the parking lot and use wet wipes."

Chubs grinned. "Sounds like your sex life, Nate."

Jordan stalked back to his locker, his mind wandering back to that parking lot in Okotoks. He’d thought about her after Medicine Hat, regretted not getting her name or something to go off of, but after his truck . . .

"Hey, Jord. You got plans for the weekend?" Cam pulled on his shirt.

Jordan shook his head. "Nothing special. Why?"

Cam shrugged. "Just thought we could grab a beer or something. It's been a while since we all hung out off the ice."

Jordan nodded. "Sounds good. Let's set something up." He was about to say more when Steele caught his attention.

"Be right back," Jordan said to the guys, then walked with Steele into the other room, standing in front of the line of sinks. This was standard procedure. Every one of these guys had taken him aside at one point or another, especially after barely joining the team. Steele wasn’t green, but he’d had to overcome a lot to be there.

"Hey." Jordan leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

Steele shoved his hands in his pockets. "So, you still doing weekends at the hospital?"

Jordan nodded. "Sometimes, yeah, but I dropped to part-time. Now I pick up shifts at the urgent care. I can work that around our games better.” Steele nodded, and Jordan pressed, knowing it would be difficult for him to say what he needed to. “What’s on your mind?”

Steele ran a hand over the back of his neck. “An article came out. Just an online news site or blog post or whatever. Talking about NHL has beens, or would’ve beens.”

Jordan sucked in a slow breath. This was a constant occurrence on Pucks Deep. Sometimes one of their players did something to incite media attention, but mostly, it came like a sale catalogue in the mail. Unannounced and unwanted. “How’d you find it?”

“Old teammate in Ottawa.”

“Nice.”

“Yeah.” Steele exhaled in a whoosh.

Jordan waited until Steele lifted his eyes. “You’re not that guy anymore.”

“No, I know.” He shifted on his feet. “I just wish—maybe if I could’ve figured things out sooner . . . “

The regrets, the wishing they could go back in time and make different choices. Jordan was all too familiar with that. But it was a losing game. One that only led to more suffering in the present. “You have to accept it, bud. Who knows what would’ve happened if you stayed in the NHL? You have this story in your head that life down that path would’ve been easier, but you didn’t know how to deal with your shit. That’s why you got arrested. If it wouldn’t have been that, it could’ve been something worse.”

Steele nodded. “I know.”

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