Page 27 of The Prince and the Puck
“I need to see nothing but commitment from you, Deck. I need to see you early to practice—no more fifteen minutes late. I need to see you be the last one here, and I don’t mean because you’re taking a forty-five-minute shower. I need to see you mentoring the younger guys—if you can find anyone greener than you. I need to see you listening to the vets.
“You came in here with a lot of natural talent, and that’s taken you far. But to cement your spot, I need to see real commitment and dedication from you. I need to see that thisisn’t just a fun hobby for a guy who’s got something else to do later on.”
The coach finished his speech and then looked at me expectantly. I sat with his words for a minute, afraid of what might come out of my mouth if I responded too quickly. My brain ticked, working through all the possible things I could say to convince Coach Merritt how completely serious I was about the Wombats.
He didn’t know my past—he only knew where I’d come from as a hockey player. He didn’t know that if I didn’t have this, I didn’t have anything. At least, not here in the United States.
“Coach Merritt, I understand everything you’re saying. And I want to assure you that my commitment is more solid than ever.”
I watched the coach’s gruff face as I spoke. Maybe it was just the way I felt the words pouring out of my heart, or maybe he could feel that too, because I swear the lines around his mouth and eyes softened a little.
I kept going. “There is nothing I want more than to dedicate myself entirely to the Wombats. I don’t have anything else going on, Coach. This isn’t a hobby for me. It’s my entire life—my entire identity. And I don’t want to lose it.
“I reviewed the game over and over with Samuels, and yeah, I saw it clear as day. I got too low on the forecheck and lost my guy—should’ve cut back sooner instead of chasing the puck behind the net. By the time I turned, their right D had all the space in the world. I hesitated, took one wrong angle, and left him wide open.”
I paused for a breath, but the coach was focused entirely on me, like he was hanging on every word I was saying. I went on. “I should’ve pressured him, taken away the shooting lane, or at the very least, forced a pass. Instead, I gave him a clean look, and he made us pay for it. That’s on me. It won’t happen again."
The coach’s face relaxed even more, and I thought there was a chance that the tiny quiver on the right side of his mouth might be his version of a smile. I’d seen him smile a couple of times—not very often at me. And that looked like a baby Coach smile. I was gonna tell myself that was a smile, because otherwise, I wasn’t sure how to react to his lack of reaction.
“The words are right, Deck,” Coach said. “Now we’ll see if the action follows.”
“It will, Coach. It will. All action all the time. Nothing but action. Action is my?—”
“Got it.”
“Yeah.”
I rose and almost backed out of the room, forgetting for a moment that this was my hockey coach and not my father, the king. It was okay to turn my back on Coach, though I wanted him to know that I respected him, and if it took treating him like royalty? Then that’s what I would do.
I worked hard that day—harder than I had worked in the last three years. Because I had meant what I said to the coach. This was it for me.
As I finished my long shower that afternoon, I thought about everything. I thought about hockey. I thought about home. And I thought a little too much about Lizzy.
Part of my commitment to the Wombats reinforced my commitment to Lizzy’s efforts. I needed to help her. I needed to make her effort as successful as my own on the ice. Because if I could help make the Wombats a household name, then maybe Declan Gillespie would also be a household name.
And if kids had posters of me on their walls, the way we had posters of Stephano Mizzoni? The coach couldn’t let me go.
I grabbed my gear, stuffed my phone in my pocket, and turned to leave the locker room.
Then my phone buzzed. I pulled it back out.
Lambert: Declan. Call me. I mean it.
A sigh escaped me, and I heard it more than felt it leave my lungs. It sounded like the sigh of a guy who was running out of ways to avoid things. I was going to have to call my brother whether I liked it or not.
I made my way across the parking lot to my truck and climbed inside.
And then I saw Lizzy.
She was sitting in her car, watching me get in. I gave her a little wave, and she gave me a nod back. Sometimes I had the feeling she was following me, or at least paying some extra special attention to me.
But maybe that was just wishful thinking.
I stared at my phone for a long moment, but staring at my phone didn’t change anything. Finally, I dialed. It rang a few times before I heard scrambling on the other end of the line. A couple of seconds later, my brother’s voice came through, as if from years before.
“Hello?”
“Lambert, it’s Deck.”
