Page 39 of Just My Puck
Aria
Speaking of games, are you ready for tonight? Great work against the Flames.
Caleb
Thanks. We’re ready for another victory. Are you going to watch it?
Aria
Of course. Going to Marissa’s, actually.
Caleb
Glad to hear that. Have fun, and text me if you need anything.
Aria
I will. Have a good day.
My heart is thudding against my chest, even though it was just a simple conversation. But in my defense, I have absolutely zero control of my emotions right now. I wonder if I’ve always been like that, or if this is a Caleb-induced condition.
Caleb Hawthorne
As soon as we finish texting, I miss Aria already. I’ve been thinking about her constantly since I left. And here I thought some time apart would do me good, help me put all my focus back into hockey. I guessout of sight, out of mindisn’t really a thing after all. My hockey game hasn’t suffered too drastically, though, so we can call that progress.
I finish suiting up and get on the ice. The rink is alive with the sharp carving of blades and the rhythmic thud of pucks against the boards. It’s an optional morning skate, but nearly everyone is out here—because we all want to win. After losing the cup last year, we’re eager to make it back to the playoffs and get our revenge.
I stretch out my shoulders, scanning the ice. Beaumont, Johnson, and Reed are shooting at Wally in the cage, Krazinski and Gurkie are doing drills with Jasper, and Adler and Miles are battling it out near the boards. Coach is watching them, no doubt turning the simple drill into a competition.
Beaumont skates up beside me and bumps my shoulder lightly. “Hey. You got a second?”
I nod, skating backward so we’re out of the way of the next drill. “What’s up?”
He glances toward the net, where Wally is tracking shots. “My shot feels off. Coach said I was gripping my stick too tight, but I don’t know—something’s not clicking.”
I cross my arms over my chest, thinking it over. Beaumont has one of the deadliest shots on the team, but when he’s in a slump, he tends to spiral. “Let’s see it.”
We skate over, and I feed him a pass. He collects it and snaps a wrister top corner, but there’s a slight hesitation before he releases.
“Again,” I say, passing him another puck. This time, he rips it faster, but it still doesn’t have that effortless snap he usually has.
I tap his stick. “You’re hesitating, not just gripping too tight. You’re overthinking it.”
Beaumont exhales, pushing his stray locks of hair back under his helmet. “Feels like I’m fighting it.”
“Then stop fighting,” I say simply. “You’re at your best when you don’t think—just react. Trust your body.”
He rolls his shoulders and nods. I feed him another pass. This time, he barely holds onto the puck before ripping it clean past Wally’s glove.
Beaumont releases a long breath, finally looking satisfied. “That’s better.”
I smirk. “Told you.”
“Thanks, Cap. I appreciate it.”
He skates away, ready to fire more shots at Wally, and Coach Martin offers me a subtle nod. I beam with pride. Finally, I’m back to supporting my team and fulfilling my role as captain.
After a shower, I change into a sweater and pants and take a break from the ice. Christmas is quickly approaching, and I need to let my parents know Aria is coming with me.
