Page 24 of The Rookie
Her expression softens. “I’ll have to give them a progress report on how I think you’re doing.”
I shrug. “That’s cool. I get it.”
“But it also makes you leery to share much with me, I suppose?”
I cross one ankle over my knee. “Believe me, if I have to talk to someone, I’d rather it be you than some therapist inside a stuffy high-rise office in Boston.”
“I’d rather it be me too.” She grins.
“So, just curious ... how am I doing?”
My mom chooses this moment to interrupt us, and she’s carrying two steaming mugs of tea.
“Do you guys want something to relax you?” she asks, holding out the mugs.
“No, we’re goo—”
Summer interrupts me by reaching for a mug. “Sure. Thanks, Jillian.”
I take the other mug and give my mom a look that I hope communicates my desire for her to leave. Wearing a smug smile, she gets the hint and disappears back inside.
Summer takes a sip, and I touch her forearm. She peers at me over the rim.
“My mom grows this tea in her garden. There’s probably CBD in it, just to warn you.”
Mom has been known to shove a cup of tea at Graham or Austen from time to time, saying something like,Here, darling. Drink this. You need to chill the heck out.
Summer shrugs. “They put that in everything nowadays. Body lotion. Dog treats. I’ve never had it, but I’ve heard it relaxes you.”
I nod and give the tea a suspicious sniff. I’ve never liked tea, and I don’t have my flask on me.
Summer takes another sip of hers. “So, let’s chat some more. We were on a roll.”
“Sure. Fire away.”
She’s quiet while she thinks for a moment.
In the truck on the way back from town, she asked about my dad’s death a little. But then she told me since she wasn’t a grief counselor, that wasn’t what we were going to discuss. She could relate to me on a personal level as someone who had also lost a parent, but the team had hired her to get me back out on the ice in tip-top shape. I appreciated how up front she was about everything.
Summer wraps her hands around the warmth of her mug. “Let’s see. First, I think we should talk about how you handle it when things are outside of your control. There’s an awful lot youdon’tcontrol, and so things are going to go haywire sometimes.”
I grunt in acknowledgment.
“So, that means you have to plan for adversity.”
“I guess so,” I say with a shrug. “Expect shit to go wrong and you won’t be disappointed. That kind of thing?”
“Exactly. And in a game, you can’t place too high of expectations on yourself. Let mistakes go quickly. I’ve noticed that athletes who are too hard on themselves can lose focus when things go wrong.”
She’s right. A couple of small mistakes on the ice, and I lose my composure. And once I lose it, I end up getting pissed off and find myself in fights on the ice.
Summer sets her empty mug on the table beside us. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I agree with you. I know I need to let things go.”
She nods. “It’s more than letting go ... it’sexpectingbad shit to happen. Knowing it’s going to happen makes it less scary when it actually does, and you’re somewhat prepared for it and know how to react.”
“Makes sense. I think I can work on that.” Apparently, I also appreciate a therapist who curses and talks so casually with me.
