Page 29 of Dreams
Chapter Seven
Josh scored his first goal of the season against the Pittsburgh Penguins. It wasn’t a pretty one, most would call it a garbage goal, but that was his specialty. He wasn’t the guy that was going to take the puck end to end, deking defensemen on the way, but he got his team on the board. His line-mates mobbed him behind the net and his team went on to win the game.
After three straight losses, the Jackets were back on track. Carter Neil scored his first NHL goal, a game winner, the next night, and they won the two after that as well. After each win, the music was cranked up in the locker room and the mood was good. After they said a few words, the coaches would leave the rest to Olle. It was one thing to be the captain when the team was losing, but another when they were winning. Some said it would be harder to lead a winning team. Harder to keep the guys from getting complacent, satisfied. The only time in hockey that you should be satisfied is when you are raising the Stanley cup above your head.
The regular season is a slog and the playoffs are grueling. Any time someone asked Josh why he gave up so much for a game, he’d just smile and tell them they wouldn’t understand. Hockey was a love affair. Each player that made it to the NHL did so because they gave the game a part of themselves. A part they knew they’d never get back.
When he wasn’t playing well, Josh felt like he was letting the game down. When he was, when everything was in sync, he felt whole. That was why he tried so hard.
“Walker,” Coach Scott called above the music.
Josh followed him down the hall to his office.
“What’s up, Coach?”
Coach Scott gestured to the empty chair in front of his desk. He wasn’t the head coach, but he was still very involved with the players.
Josh sat, bouncing his leg nervously as the coach studied his face.
“This is how I know you can play,” he started. “Wherever your head has been at this week, keep it there.”
“Thanks, Coach.”
“Now, hold on. I didn’t call you in here to inflate your ego. Whatever you’ve been doing to help Neil, it’s good.” He eyed him carefully. “You’ll make a good coach one day.”
“Hopefully once I’ve played myself into old age.”
To Josh’s surprise, Coach laughed. “Just keep doing what you’re doing. With Mack too.”
“I’m not doing anything with Mack,” Josh said, confused.
“You are,” Coach Scott disagreed. “You can read him. You know what he’s thinking, and he knows where you’ll be. Never underestimate the importance of line chemistry. You aren’t the prototypical first-liner, but it’s working right now.”
“He’s been playing really well.”
“Stop being so damn humble, Walker!” Coach Scott pounded a fist on his desk. “Learn to take credit when credit is due.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, get out and go tell Olle I’d like a word with my captain.” Before Josh made it out the door, Coach said one more thing. “You have an off-day tomorrow, Walker, and I’m insisting you take it. Do not set foot in this building. No weight room. No exercise bike. It’s a long season. Rest. Do you hear me?”
Josh turned back and then looked away from his coach’s blunt stare. “Yeah. I got it.”
“Good. Now, go enjoy the win. It’s back to the grindstone on Saturday.”
* * *
The next morning was Friday, and Josh wasn’t sure what to do if he wasn’t going to train. He could have hit the gym in his building, but decided to listen to the coach. His body felt sore from the bruising game the night before.
Pulling on a pair of sweats over his boxers, he walked out into the kitchen. As he was cracking eggs into a bowl, a woman came stumbling out of Mack’s room. Josh glanced towards her and recognized her immediately. She quickly tried to tame her wild blond curls with her fingers when she saw him, but then stopped, her mouth hanging open as she openly assessed his bare chest.
“Abigail, right?” Josh asked, trying to halt her obvious ogling. He set the bowl of eggs down on the counter.
“Yep.” Her lips turned up in a smile. “That’s me.”
“You hungry?” It was the first time he’d ever offered breakfast to one of Mack’s sleepover buddies, but she was a friend of Taylor’s and that made her different.
“Starved.” He knew she didn’t mean the food as her eyes scanned his broad chest once more.
