Page 67 of Blindside Me
The first passing drill is simple. Basic. Something I could do in my sleep. Yet somehow, I keep fumbling the puck, my passes either too soft or wildly off-target. Ryan compensates, working harder to corral my errant passes without saying a word. But his eyes ask the questions his mouth doesn’t.
Water break comes after thirty minutes of increasingly frustrating drills. I stand at the bench, chugging water, avoiding Coach’s gaze. Ryan skates over and leans against the boards beside me.
“Yo, Klaas,” he says quietly. “You look like you just rolled outta somebody’s bed. You good, bro?”
My water bottle freezes halfway to my mouth. Does he know? Has he guessed?
“Bad night,” I manage, shrugging. “Couldn’t sleep.”
Ryan studies me for a moment too long. “Uh-huh. Wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain blonde English major, would it?”
The water I’m swallowing goes down the wrong pipe. I choke, coughing violently. Ryan pounds my back, smirking.
“Take that as a yes,” he mutters.
“It’s not—” I start, but Coach’s whistle cuts me off.Saved by the drill.
Back on the ice, Coach’s eyes track my every move. I can’t shake the feeling he knows exactly why I’m off my game. Every time he looks my way, guilt slams into me like a cross-check from behind.
All this guilt, and I didn’t even fuck her. But man, I wanted to.I wanted to …
I push harder with each drill, desperate to prove I’m still the perfect player they expect. Still in control. Still worthy of the pressure they’ve placed on me. My sprints become faster, more reckless. My hits during the defensive drill are too aggressive, drawing surprised looks from teammates.
“Ease up, Klaas,” Easton mutters after I slam him into the boards harder than necessary during a one-on-one.
But I can’t ease up. If I slow down, the thoughts of Jade looking up at me with her swollen lips will return. I can’t think about the breathy way she said my name or the feel of her silky skin under my hands. She’s Coach Howell’s niece. My coach’s niece. What the fuck am I thinking?
The next drill is one-on-ones, focusing on attacking versus defending. When my turn comes to attack, I push off hard, determined to make this perfect and show them all I’m still Drew Klaas, future NHL star. Not some lovesick idiot risking everything for a girl.
I deke past the first defender easily, picking up speed. The second defender, Country, moves to cut me off. I should pull up and reassess. It’d be the smart play. The safe play.
Instead, I try to beat him wide, pushing my edges too far, skating too fast. I overextend, trying to reach around him with the puck.
My inside edge gives way.
For a suspended moment, I’m airborne, the world tilting sideways. Then comes the impact. My shoulder hit the boardsfirst, followed by my head snapping back. The crash echoes through the rink like a gunshot.
Pushing too hard to prove you’re fine always ends the same way—flat on your back, wondering where you screwed up.
Pain explodes across my left side. The wind rushes from my lungs in a violent exhale. I lay sprawled on the ice, staring up at the ceiling as the world spins around me.
“Shit! Drew!” Easton’s face appears above me, concern etched in his features. “Don’t move, man.”
Coach’s whistle blares three times. Isn’t that the emergency signal? Fuck! That hurts. The scrape of skates echoes everywhere as the team gathers around. Embarrassment burns hotter than the pain. I’ve never wiped out like this. Never lost control.
“I’m fine,” I insist, already pushing myself up despite the protest from my ribs. “I’m fine.”
Coach Howell appears, his face unreadable. “Sit the fuck down, Klaas.”
“I said I’m fine.”
“That wasn’t a suggestion.” His voice leaves no room for argument.
Humiliation burns through me as the athletic trainer attends to my injuries. Once stabilized, we head to the locker room for a more thorough examination. It doesn’t take long for him to conclude what I already know, I’m fine. Physically, anyway. Mentally? That’s another story.
Biting back a sigh, I hit the shower and let the water rain on me. My behavior during practice was unacceptable. I have to get my shit together. This weird flux I’m in is driving me crazy. I can only imagine it’s the same for Jade.
I finish my shower and head to the locker room. Most of the team filters out, heading to morning classes. Ryan pauses by my stall.
