Page 24 of The Alternate Captain
“Yeah, that’s been fine. Danny and I have been running, and I was thinking about going swimming with you in the mornings. I won’t even look at your lane, I promise.”
He smirks at me, but the idea of it makes me tetchy. His coming along would likely fuck up my routine and knock my whole day out—I don’t think I can deal with it.
“You’re good with the running. Liam will probably run with Prez when he gets here. Maybe you can start a group.”
“How’d you feel about him coming here? It’ll be like you’re kids again, I bet. But with better skills. Oh shit...”
I snap my head up and look at him. “What?”
“Him and Vicky. That’s going to be a show I’ll want tickets for.”
“Forget about that. They’re done. That’s it.”
Jen’s reverse psychology idea swims to the forefront of my mind, and I consider telling Bettsy, but since he can’t keep his trap shut, I decide otherwise.
“It must be so nice to have that with someone though—I mean, they’ve been together since they were kids. I bet that’s...” He trails off and I head towards the blue line.
“Enough. We need to get started. Time is ticking away. Remember, I want to hear you. None of that ‘I thought you could read my mind’ shit.”
“Fine.” Bettsy positions the pucks to use as markers before getting into place either side of the spot in the face-off circle.
I stay back at the point, readying myself. He skates backwards and I send him the pass, giving him a verbal cue. He receives it, and circles around the left puck before sending it back my way. As he loops back to complete the figure of eight around the second puck, he calls for the pass and receives it, then he returns it before we switch positions. It’s pretty basic, but it gets us started and works well for defensive pairs.
We carry on until we change things up and make use of the net. Bettsy’s got a good slap-slot, so we position ourselves so I can keep passing him pucks to one-time into the net, with me calling out his aim as I sail the puck towards him. We’re probably only halfway into our session, but a familiar whistle blows from the bench, halting us on the spot.
“My office, Koenig,” Coach bellows.
“I guess we’re done for now, Betts.”
“You better be finding out who’s replacing Simon Pearce,” Bettsy calls after me, but that’s the least of my worries.
I leave my stick, helmet, and gloves on the bench and follow Coach to his door, leaning against the frame while I wait for him to beckon me inside.
“Close the door behind you,” he says.
I expect the rest of the guys will be arriving soon, so his request makes me anxious. But I can guess what this is about.
He gestures for me to sit down, so I perch myself on the edge of the chair opposite.
“Talk to me about Liam Preston. Should I trust that he’s going to turn up if I tell the GM he can sign the paperwork?”
I’ve spoken with Liam a few times since he first told me his plans. He seems hell set on coming here, even if it won’t be the best idea he’s ever had. But since I know how good he can be when he’s on form, I give Coach a rundown of his strengths on the ice.
“How’s the therapy sessions?” Coach spins the conversation once he’s learnt enough about Lee.
“Good. I mean, they’re helping.”
I know I’m lying to Coach, but the words come out and I can’t take them back. Although I want to believe these sessions are helpful, it honestly feels like we’re just discussing how terrible my childhood was. Apparently, things have to get worse before they can get better, but I don’t believe it.
“I’m glad to hear it. I know you’re trying to keep your temper in check, too. These guys are looking up to you, Johnny, and Iknow you can do it,” Coach says. Well, at least he has faith in me. “Anyway, I just wanted to reiterate—yes, this is a big game for you guys, but you’ve worked hard all season. You need to enjoy it, too. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself. Enjoy the moment. Take a breath.”
I listen to Coach’s speech, trying to let the words sink in, but all I can think about is that I’ll be a complete and utter failure if we don’t win. A failure like I’ve always been. Almost good enough.
“You got this, Johnny,” he says before dismissing me.
But I’m not convinced.
Tom looks completely ridiculousin his get-up. We’re wearing matching ‘Betts’ jerseys, which Mike dropped off yesterday, but Tom’s taken things to another level with the face paint and bobble hat he found in my wardrobe. I mean, I thought he was extreme with the hat, but the team’s logo slapped on his cheeks makes his entire ensemble look even more... spirited.
