Page 21 of Conrad

“Old man.” Hardly.He had at least three, maybe five good years left.

Okay, two. One more contract, however. And please let it be with the Blue Ox. He just had to make it past the trade deadline in three weeks, and he’d finish the season with the Ox.

He always played better in the last forty days before the end of the regular season.

Grabbing his gear bag, he got up and headed for the door.

Coach Jace Jacobsen emerged from his locker-room office, just by the door, and leaned his big shoulder on the frame. Gestured with his head for Conrad to join him.

Perfect.Conrad sighed and followed the coach into the office.

Jace shut the door behind him.

Posters of former teams from the last twenty years hung on the walls around the room, with a few blowups of their stars over the years. Jace, a former winger and enforcer for the team, had his own mug blown up, looking fierce as he stared into the camera. Now he wore the same dark expression as he folded his arms.

“Sit, Conrad.”

Oh, this would be fun. Conrad sank into one of the folding chairs, dropped his bag on the floor. “’Sup, Coach?”

Jace took a breath. “The Department of Player Safety is reviewing that hit you did on Kowalcyzk.”

“What? They were hitting just as hard. Besides, I already sat in the box for it.”

Jace held up a hand. “Listen. I know how it gets. Believe me—I had my share of hits, both given and taken. But hockey’s changed since I played. Player safety is a priority. They’re reviewing the hit for a charging infraction to the neck and head.”

“C’mon—he was shorter than me?—”

Jace again held up a hand. “More than that—you played like a third grader tonight. What’s going on?”

Right.Conrad leaned back, looked away, out at the media room. Maybe he should be grateful Coach had pulled him in here. But the last—very last—thing he could admit was that he hadn’t been sleeping.

That hewaslike a third grader, waking in the middle of the night for the past three days, sweating, bursting out of a sound sleep. Maybe even doing a small pillow hug.

Memories, not nightmares, and in every one of them, he was the one who lost a leg.

Although, sometimes the nightmares shifted and he found himself in frigid water, the earth having given out beneath him.

And in between the nightmares, when he woke and stared at his coffered ceiling, Penelope Pepper walked into his head. And it wasn’t just her“I don’t think that’s a good idea” to his offer to text, but the other words, spoken to the skinny lawyer in the bathroom earlier that night.“Since I’ve been investigating this case, I’ve been kidnapped and seen two men shotand people murdered.”

So, hurt and worry were a stupendous combination for getting back to sleep.

He might have worked out a little harder than he’d needed to, so he’d blame tired muscles, too.

He looked back at Coach. “Just not sleeping great, maybe.”

“Fix it,” Jace said. “And in the meantime, you’re suspended from this weekend’s road games.”

He blinked at him. “What?” He found himself on his feet. “Coach—c’mon.I’ll get it together—I always do?—”

“Sit down, Conrad.” Voice low, steady, a hint of the old enforcer in his tone.

Conrad’s mouth tightened. but he lowered himself back into his chair.

“I know that’s not what you want to hear—especially with the draft deadline coming up, but frankly, maybe you need a head swap. Get your brain out of the game for five minutes, or ten, and do something that activates your muscle memory. You can play hockey—no one is doubting that you’re a legend in the league. But you’ve got the yips.”

“Don’t say that. It’s like referencing Macbeth at a theater. Now you’ve jinxed me.”

Jace held his gaze. “It’s that kind of thinking that leads to the yips.”

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