Page 94 of Between the Blue
“You guys seem close,” I say.
“We are,” Rhett confirms. “We’ve actually known each other basically our whole lives.” He pauses, glancing my way. “Did you not know that?”
“What?” I sit up in my seat, shifting to face him. “I definitely didn’t know that.”
“Yeah,” Rhett nods. “We grew up one small town over from each other back in Canada. And when you get to playing hockey at a certain level, you see a lot of the same faces. We’ve actually been on and off of teams together since we were six. Even played together at the University of Toronto.”
My mouth hangs open in surprise. I obviously could tell Ben and Rhett were close, but I had no idea it went back to their childhood. I suppose it makes their relationship make a whole lot more sense though. Ben doesn’t exactly come off as a guy with many friends. Like he needs a long time to trust someone. “And you guys both ended up on the same NHL team?” I ask, the realization hitting me suddenly. “What are the odds of that?”
“Pretty low, honestly.” Rhett’s lips twist up at the side, and then he scoffs out a chuckle.
“What?” I question him.
“Nothing,” he shakes his head. “I was just about to say that we got lucky. But really, the truth is,Igot lucky.”
“What do you mean?”
Rhett blows out a breath. “We haven’t always been on the same team.”
I tilt my head at him, urging him to continue.
“Bennett was drafted by the Storm, and he’s been here ever since. For a decade now actually, which isn’t super common. Buthe’s made it his home. Everyone likes him here. The coaches, the front office, the fans. People look up to him. There’s a reason he’s the Storm’s youngest captain.” He trails off, a pained sort of smile crossing his face that I don’t understand.
“And what about you?” I ask.
“I…am nothing like him.”
My brows pull together. “What makes you say that?” He doesn’t say anything, so I continue. “Rhett, I’m sure lots of people look up to you. You're one of the best players on the team, if not the best. I don’t know anything and even I know that.”
He looks over at me, his lips pulling up at the corners. “Thanks, Little Dixon.” He nudges me with his elbow. “I don’t have a leadership bone in my body though. And I’m not technically good the way the best guys in the league are. I’m often told I lack discipline, whatever that means.” He chuckles. “I don’t know. I know I’ll never be one of the greats, but I just really love hockey. And, fortunately, I just got lucky with being really good at it.”
“There’s no way it’s all luck,” I retort. “You had to have put so much work in to be where you are now. You don’t just become a professional athlete by flying by the seat of your pants. That has to require a lot of humility. And certainly some discipline.”
“Yeah, I definitely learned that the hard way,” he mutters, running a hand through his curls.
“What do you mean?”
“I was drafted by Chicago initially. I was on top of the world. Or, at least, I thought I was. It certainly felt that way for the first time in my life.” He lets out a sigh, shaking away whatever thoughts are clearly running through his mind. “Long story short, I took it all for granted. I made more than a few bad decisions, broke one too many hearts, partied a little too hard, and ended up getting the boot.”
“The boot?” I repeat. “Like, Chicago…fired you?”
“More or less,” he confirms. “I was young. And stupid. And I managed to show the world in only one season that I just wasn’t cut out for the opportunity I’d been given. I could’ve been done for then. But…”
“But what?”
“Bennett vouched for me.” He looks over at me, seeing my raised brows. “He talked me up big time to Coach Barrett and the Storm’s general manager. Bear was very much against it, but Jamesy still made it happen for me. The Storm took on my contract from Chicago and I’ve been here ever since.”
“Wow…that’s…really amazing, Rhett,” I manage to say, still processing what I’ve heard. “I’m glad it all worked out for you.”
“So far,” he adds, offering a small smile. “But yeah, so am I. I’m pretty much trying every day to not screw it all up.”
I open my mouth to say something more, but Rhett carries on, shifting the subject off himself.
“So, that being said,” he clears his throat, “I promise Bennett’s not all bad. So, please, just give him a chance. He’s…been through a lot.” He makes the turn onto the road Randall’s Tavern is on, and I immediately see the neon sign illuminated ahead.
“What do you mean by that?” I ask.
Rhett’s teeth chew at his bottom lip, and he steals a glance in my direction as he pulls into Randall’s parking lot. “It’s not really my story to tell, Little Dixon.”
