Page 27 of Puck Struck
Couple of us heading to Play It Forward to do a coaching event for the kids. Come join us?
I stare at the message for a long minute as Tessa slows for a red light.
I don’t want to go.
I want to hole up in my room and ice my shoulder. I want to research rare liver disorders and pretend the knot in my gut isn’t growing. I want quiet.
But Tessa glances over and sees the screen.
“Go,” she says.
I frown. “I don’t need to?—”
“Yes, you do.” Her tone sharpens. “You need to let people in, Logan. This team isn’t just your job. You need them. You need people.”
“I have you and Ethan.”
“And we adore you, but you need to expand your horizons a little. Have some sort of a life.” Tessa gives me a poke in the arm. “You’re not the only one worried about him,” she addsgently. “I know how hard this all has been on you. Losing Tyler, having us move in, dealing with E’s condition. But you staying frozen in place isn’t helping him. Or you.”
She’s right. I hate that she’s right.
I always worry about Tessa and Ethan. They’re my real family. And if that means giving up on my own life, so be it. I’m all they have now.
But dammit, can she blame me for wanting to hold on so tight? Tyler was my best friend and Tessa’s husband. And a deadly car crash took him away from us, a crash that I walked away from without a scratch. Guilt eats at me every single day for being alive when my best friend, a father, a husband, lost his life.
“Say you’ll go,” she says, accelerating now that the light turns green.
“Fine.” I shoot off a quick text to Jack.
I’ll be there.
I pull into the parking lot at Play It Forward an hour later. The place is utter chaos, but the good kind.
Kids dart everywhere, slipping on the ice and convulsing with laughter. Coaches shout drills. Pucks fly. Water bottles spill. A swarm of kids fly down the ice with their sticks in hand.
And right in the center of it all is Cam.
I freeze the second I see him.
He’s got a kid on each side, helping them adjust their gloves and position their feet. One’s laughing so hard he nearly falls over, and Cam catches him by the armpits, grinning.
Tate claps me on the shoulder and tosses me a whistle. “Thought you were gonna bail.”
I shake my head. “Got caught up in some home stuff.” But Ileave it at that. Nobody on the team knows about Ethan’s condition. I don’t want the pity stares and whispers behind my back. And I definitely don’t want to rehash the reason why they live with me, the reason why I will always take care of them. It’s too deep, too personal, and I don’t let people in that far.
Tate nods toward the group of kids Cam is wrangling. “Foster’s good with them. He’s a natural coach.”
I bite back the comment that almost comes out. That Cam’s good at a lot of things he doesn’t let people see.
Instead, I take my place at the shooting station, helping kids line up their shots. We rotate through drills. Jack runs stick-handling. Carter works on skating posture. Even Masterson’s here, teaching a pair of twins how to hip-check a cone.
But Cam…he’s everywhere. And I can’t keep my eyes from following him and tracking every one of his movements.
He kneels beside a kid trying to figure out how to hold a stick properly and guides his hands. His sleeves are pushed up, exposing forearms covered in ink. He’s encouraging, patient, louder than he needs to be, but the kids eat it up.
He spews praise like he means it, like he really and truly believes in them.
Tate nudges me and nods in Cam’s direction. “You staring because you’re jealous of his stick tape skills, or…?”
