Page 61 of Conrad

Overall, an intensely physical team, although by the third period, they lagged. So, he’d have to conserve his energy, exploit that.

Conrad went to bed after three whole hours without Pepper in his brain. And then promptly returned to that moment in the alleyway outside Turbo when the urge to kiss her had nearly possessed him. Still did, because when he closed his eyes, she was right there, staring up at him, her golden-brown gaze wide, words in her eyes, as if?—

No.He sent a fist into his pillow, enacted a few breathing techniques, and managed to grab hold of sleep.

But he was up at five for a workout, eggs, and bacon, and had a stiff black coffee in hand when he pulled into the North Star Arena.

Simon met him, parked in front of a school bus with the team’s name and logo, holding coffee and a clipboard. Kids were milling around the lot, their gear bags in a pile. The forecast had suggested a storm on the way, but blue skies arched overhead.

“Hey,” Simon said. “You going to follow us or ride in the bus?”

Why not?“I’ll ride.”

“It’s two hours away, nearly up in Brainerd.”

“We’ll talk strategy.” He grabbed a couple bags and walked them around to the back, opened the door and threw them in. Shouted at the kids to load up, then turned back to Simon, who had followed him. “I haven’t seen Jeremy at any of the practices.” He probably shouldn’t ask—especially since not having the kid around had kept him from having an episode.

In fact, he’d managed to keep his cool for every practice. So maybe the nightmares wouldn’t win.

Simon closed the back, gestured to the kids to get in. “Yeah. I called him. Said his dad got an infection, was in the hospital. He needed to stick around and help.”

Conrad frowned.

“His mom works full-time, and he has a couple younger siblings. He helps out a lot. Good kid, tough lot.”

He walked around to the entrance of the bus.

Conrad stood there, his chest tight.Breathe.

He finally followed Simon onto the bus, sat down on one of the seats in front, turned, and glanced back at the team. They were playing on their phones, many of them plugged in with earbuds.

“Different from our road-trip days when we just threw things at each other,” Conrad said.

“Hey. I had that Game Boy,” Simon said. “You were the one who couldn’t sit still.”

Conrad grinned. “I was a little hyper back then.”

“No, you were intense back then.” Simon raised an eyebrow as they pulled out. “I don’t think much has changed. You were a little hard on the kids this week.”

“We want to win, right?”

Simon shrugged. “We play to learn and grow. And yes, win, but losing doesn’t have to be failure.”

Conrad narrowed his eyes, took a sip of coffee. “I have some ideas on how we might win.” And then he spent the next two hours outlining his game plan, starting with identifying the opposing team’s key playmakers during the first period and assigning defensemen to shadow them, implementing a trap neutral zone strategy to slow them down during a turnover, and taking as many shots on goal as possible.

“We want to tire them out, keep them guessing.”

“They’re kids. Most of them are thirteen.”

“By the time I was thirteen, I was playing in the Quebec International Pee-Wee Hockey Tournament, had scouts looking at me, coaches inviting me to the juniors.”

“You had parents who were involved. Who showed up?—”

“But that’s the point of EmPowerPlay, right? To show the kids that they can do this on their own.”

Simon raised an eyebrow. “I think that is exactlynotthe point, Con. We’re a team, and we need each other?—”

Conrad held up a hand. “I know. But I mean . . . no one is going to succeed for you. You need to figure it out and play your best game if you want to win. You can’t depend on others to play your position. Man up.”

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