Page 83 of Slew Foot
The entire team had been hit by the illness. Even the staff and coaching hadn’t been spared and the last of the guys were recovering at home.
The Harriers were still a little light on NHL caliber talent at the moment but thankfully, most of their bigger pieces were back.
At the moment, Coach Hoyt was staying in Boston—an inner ear infection making it unsafe for him to fly—so Aksel Rasmussen was filling in.
“It’s so weird! I never even felt sick, you know?” Tanner said cheerfully to Rafe as they passed Mickey. He muttered dire curses under his breath at Tanner’s attitude about the whole situation, when he’d been patient zero for the whole team’s outbreak.
Coach Rasmussen, who’d walked past Mickey as he grumbled under his breath at Tanner, shot Mickey an amused look as hepassed by, clearly understanding enough of his German to get the gist of what he was saying.
Mickey gave him a sheepish look, but Rasmussen shrugged and murmured, “My son has said much worse about him. And vice versa.”
Rasmussen said it in very rusty-sounding German and, honestly, Mickey was surprised he had understood him at all. Despite both being Germanic languages, Norwegian and German weren’t really that similar.
But as Mickey climbed the steps to board the plane, he remembered Rasmussen had played in Germany for a while during a lockout that had dragged on and on for months until the league and the players union had finally agreed on terms.
That explained it. But what had he meant about his son?
As far as Mickey knew, he only had one. Leif was a very talented forward for the New York Rockets—like his father had been—and Mickey had a vague memory of some kind of altercation between Tanner and Leif during the game they’d played against New York last fall.
Mickey had chucked it up—no,chalkedit up, he mentally corrected himself—to it being part of the usual divisional rivalries. But perhaps there was more to it.
Mickey took his usual seat and Rafe slid in beside him. They worked like a well-oiled machine now as they quickly got comfortable, stowing their bags and getting out what they’d use on the flight ahead.
Once he was done, he sent a message to Tanner.What do you have against Leif Rasmussen?That seemed very unlike Tanner. He wasn’t a grudge holder.
Who says I have anything against him??
His father.
Mickey glanced behind him to see Tanner’s head pop up over the seats. He looked a little bug-eyed and crazy before he slumped down again.
Mickey’s phone vibrated.Why was Coach talking shit about me and Leif??
Mickey explained the earlier situation and Tanner sent him a mad emoji.
Dude, what a stuck-up prick.
Coach Rasmussen?Mickey shot back, a little shocked Tanner would say something like that. Tanner got feisty in games, but nothing ever got underhisskin. He was always the one pestering other people untiltheysnapped.
No!! His son. I like Coach fine. Leaf’s a dick though.
*Leaf.
*Leaf.
MOTHER FUCKER. L-E-I-F. Stupid autocorrect.
And stupid name. Oh, I’m named after a fucking Viking. NBD though.
Mickey laughed under his breath at the barrage of texts because he could practically hear everything in Tanner’s sarcastic tone. Still, he couldn’t get over the feeling this was very unlike Tanner.
Rafe leaned in, peering at his phone with a smile. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing,” Mickey said, hiding his screen against his hoodie.
Rafe pulled back, his happy expression dimming. “Oh. Sorry. I’ll give you privacy if you want.”
“Oh, no,” Mickey said hastily. “Dude, I’m textingTanner.”
