Page 61 of How We End
Maverick left as quickly as he appeared.Leaving me in the neon blue emptiness of my life.
CHAPTERTHIRTY
JULIAN
November 29
Las Vegas vs Vancouver, 2nd intermission
“Silver.”Murry motioned to the office.
“Oh, Coach is pissed,” Mason and Walker teased.
“Can I get some ice, please?”I asked the trainer as I pulled off my jersey.
“Knee or shoulder?”the trainer asked.
“Both,” I said, walking into Murry’s office.“Now what?”
“Sit.”He waited for me to sit.“I’m switching around the lines.I’m moving Dima to the first line.He’ll take your place on the power play as well.”Murry hadn’t looked at me.He was making notes on the clipboard.
“Why?”
“Because Dima needs more ice time.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”That wasn’t how lines were decided.Some players played better with others.Anders, Mason, and I played great together.There was nothing wrong with Dima, but he didn’t play well with Anders.
“Jules.”The trainer handed me two bags of ice.
“Thanks.”I laid one over my shoulder.The weight of it made the marrow of my bones hurt.I placed the other on my knee.
Murry looked up at me.“And you need less ice time.”
“I’m fine.”The cold water was dripping down my back.
Murry sat back and ran a hand over his mouth.“You’re not twenty-five anymore.I can see what this game is doing to you.”He nodded to the bags of ice.“The trainers are worried about your shoulder.”
“It’s fine.”I dropped my gaze, fighting the emotions that rushed through me.I knew what was happening.The first two lines saw the most play time, the third was the forgotten one, and the fourth took the hard hits.
“No, it’s not.We have a tough schedule next week, including LA.I need you to be healthy and rested for those games.The third line will give you that rest.We are ahead by four.”
“So why not let me play?”I didn’t believe him.He was losing faith in my ability to play.
“Because I said you need rest, and Dima needs more ice time.Now go get ready for the third period.”Murry went back to the papers on his desk.
Back in the locker room, Anders and Tyler were arguing over who had bigger biceps.Most players in this room, minus Mason, had no idea what it meant to have a father who played hockey.Mason’s dad hadn’t made a name for himself like mine had.And Mason played a different position than his father.
No one gave me a choice.I was Quick Silver’s kid.Of course I’d be a winger.
“Okay, listen up.I’ve got a few changes.”Murry came in.“Dima, I’m moving you up to Anders’s and Tremblay’s line.Cole, I’m moving you to the fourth line with Lunderberg.”Murry read from his clipboard.“The Kings like to crowd the net, so Tyler, I need you here.”Murry pointed to the screen with the new lineup.“And Dima, I want you…”
Anders sat down next to me as Murry went over the plays.“You okay with this?”
“What choice do I have?”And no, I wasn’t, but I was also tired of fighting everyone.I really thought at this point in my career I wouldn’t still be proving I deserved to be here.
“Jules, it’s nothing.Don’t let this get in your head,” Anders whispered.
That was easier for him to say.He was twenty-six, and there were no podcasts devoted to hating him.Fans weren’t throwing his jersey on the ice or cursing his name.
