Page 77 of Puck Daddies
But I cut him off with a laugh. “You owe me, kid. I’ll train you, but don’t think that means I’ll go easy on you. Just the opposite.Can’t sharpen a blade in warm butter. I’ll make you better, but you might hate me in the process.”
That makes him smile. “See you at eight.”
After the gym, I drive to Bea’s. The collab launch is soon. We kept it quiet until the TRO landed. The label readsBea’s x Black Devilswith a small bee by the team logo. Two scents: BRAVE—honey, cream, coffee. POWER PLAY—cedar, smoke, citrus. Every penny after costs goes to legal fees and moving expenses if we need to move the shop, but that’s a last resort.
Aqua is at the counter in green velvet and a team hat. “You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
Meg stands by the honeycomb wall, her phone in hand. She looks steady. She isn’t. But only me, Rocco, and Oliver would know it by looking at her.
I touch her elbow. “We got this.”
“Soon.”
We post on Bea’s, on the team account, and on my page. The line doubles in three minutes. People buy coffee, candles, and tiles, and they tip like they mean it. The online store number jumps. Every candle sold out in eight minutes. The team reposts. The captain texts me a bee and a thumbs-up.
There’s no way I’ll be able to keep up with the orders, and I lift Meg up by her waist in celebration. “One more item off the checklist, pet.”
She blushes as I set her down. “That was subtle.”
“Wasn’t going for subtle.” I kiss her in the middle of the shop until we’re both breathless.
That night, I write the apology I should have made the night of the snap. “I lost my cool and slapped a reporter’s tablet in the tunnel. No excuses. I apologized to him and paid for the device. I’m in anger management and learning how to do better. Thank you to the people holding me accountable. I’ll earn your trust.” I post it and turn off replies for an hour. Then I turn them back on.
The comments are what I expect. A few call me soft. A few say I’m a thug. More tell megood jobandproud of youandI made my first appointment today because of this.A dad writes that his kid asked what anger management is, and now they’re talking at dinner. I like those and scroll past the ones that drag.
In bed, I start my homework. I write three triggers I noticed today. A question that pushed a button, a near collision in a drill, a comment in the comments. I write what I did instead. Breathe, water, walk away. I give myself a grade.
B. Not perfect. But better.
Morning. Far rink at eight. Travis is there early, which impresses me.
We start off-ice. Wall drills for shin angle and knee drive. I show him how to set his foot under his hip, get low without folding, finish each stride with a snap. Bands, short sled push. On-ice, stance, weight shift, and the first three strides out of a stop. No crossing too early. We film his starts and mine. He sees the difference. We do five sets. He improves on the fourth.
He huffs out a breath. “No one taught me that.”
“Ask sooner. You want minutes, you gotta earn them the right way.”
He nods. “I want to.” He hesitates. “I wasn’t trying to cut you off in OT, by the way. I panicked and jumped. Sorry for that.”
Takes a lot for a rookie to admit that kind of shit. It’s a liability, and we both know it. I could go to Coach with this and use his vulnerability against him.
I’m not that guy. “Wait for the whistle. Call for the puck when it’s your shift. Not a moment sooner.”
“I know. Just…sometimes I get anxious. Especially when we’re losing. Or winning. I want to be on the ice. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. My brain fades out, my body takes over?—”
“That’s a cop-out. You’re in charge of you, Travis. You can do this. You’re good—fast. You’ll be faster if you keep practicing, and the team needs that. So, get your shit together. See Dr. Keane about it.”
“I will. Go again?”
“Go again.” And we do.
PR posts the PSA. I repost it with a line:I’m learning. You can too.My phone buzzes for an hour. I put it face down and go to my Meals on Wheels route.
Mrs. Kline tells me she liked the video. She says her husband never talked about his temper, and she wishes he had. I carry groceries up three flights for a neighbor who waves me off halfway and then says thanks at the door. The work is good for my head.
Lift. Carry. Listen. Leave. Be useful.
