Page 16 of Our Offseason

I laughed at that. “Yeah, me too.”

“Yes, you too,” she said earnestly. “Bet I can hold this handstand longer than you though,” she challenged with the regular determined look back in her eyes.

I smirked at her and accepted the challenge.

At some point, one of us started doing handstand push-ups, and then it turned into a competition to see who could do the most. When I noticed her starting to shake and go a little slower, I cheered her on.

“You’re giving up that easy? C’mon, be tough, Kessel, you got it,” I grunted.

She looked at me out of the corner of her eye and gave one last push.

My phone alarm blared. Stupid dream. I quickly sat up to locate my phone.

And then it happened again– the spins.

Fuck this stupid concussion. I closed my eyes tightly and slowly laid back down and waited for my head to feel normal again.

Beau jumped up on the bed next to me and started licking my face.

Jeez. I wondered if my pain-killer medication somehow made my dreams more vivid. I hadn't thought about sixth grade English in years… or the fact that I failed it because I ditched class so often that semester with Claire. I didn’t regret that though. I’d never regret it. And I’d never told anyone the real reason why I failed it. I don’t think Claire did either. That was a secret we’d take to the grave, I was sure of it. It started out as skipping so she could get a bit of extra sleep, but sometimes we’d just play in the gym together. No one ever caught us either. It was great. It was one of the only times we could enjoy genuine friendship with each other without the outside pressures making us feel weird– meaning stupid kids who made fun of us for liking each other. I hated to admit that I let that get to me, but I was just a little guy, so I couldn't completely blame myself.

What I could blame myself for was how I left her and Northfield. But again, I was only seventeen when I did that… which was seven fucking years ago. I knew she could hold a grudge, but really, leaving me stranded without my crutches was a bit extreme, no?

The next thing that came to mind was something I really didn’t want to think about… But it was true… and it was something I couldn’t shake: I still liked her.Reallyliked her. After all these years, I still couldn’t not crush on Claire Kessel, at least a little bit. She had a knockout body— totally strong and solid— and pairing that with her competitive, sassy attitude… I was a fucking goner.

But… I needed to push that thought far, far away. I wasn’t about to get attached to anyone. And it’s not like she liked me anyway, so it shouldn’t be that difficult.

I stared up at my bedroom ceiling. This was why I needed to force myself to keep moving. Too much thinking was never a good thing, especially for someone like myself. With all this downtime and no immediate goals to reach, my thoughts just kept pinging around, making me feel too much. Working out– either lifting weights or taking a yoga class or hitting the track– usually helped me a bit, but playing hockey was the only time my thoughts disappeared and I could just be. Maybe coaching would be the answer for the next eight or so weeks.

________

“Duke Callahan! Number 14 for the Detroit Crewman! Woah!”

I smiled at the tween boys playing air hockey in the lobby. Well, theywereplaying air hockey, now they were both staring at me as I crutched toward Craig’s office.

They dropped their air hockey handles and jogged over to me.

“Hi, my name’s Troy. It’s nice to meet you. I play forward too, and I’m just really excited to have you here. But I am sorry you’re here, ya know, because, ya know,” he gestured to my foot. “We uh… we saw–”

The other kid elbowed him in the stomach, making him double over a bit, and I chuckled to myself.

“I’m Canyon. I’m happy you’re here too,” the kid next to him said. I remembered that name. He was Greyson Scott’s kid. He looked like an all-American boy with light brown hair and freckles dotting his nose and cheeks. He licked his lips nervously. “Uh.. can you… uh…Can you teach us the Michigan shot you use all the time? I can’t get it at all. We keep trying.”

I cracked a smile at that. “Sure can, kid. You’ll both be able to nail it by the end of this clinic. Promise.” I reached out for a knuckle punch from both of them. “You guys are here awfully early though, no?” I squinted up at the Pepsi clock. I came in early to catch up with Craig… and to ask him if I could possibly join some of the workout classes upstairs after the clinic today. They usually had some in-house weightlifting, cardio, and yoga instructors.

“Yeah,” Canyon nodded. “We’re early. My mom’s out there coaching figure skating. My dad gets here early sometimes to see her on the ice.” He rolled his eyes. “He’s such a simp.”

My eyes bugged out at that. Greyson Scott. A simp? I laughed at the thought of it. I never would’ve dared to call him that back when he used to train here. He used to scare the living shit out of us.

“Your dad is no simp. He’s a pretty intimidating guy,” I told them. Not only was he a fricken tower with bodybuilder muscles, but he also had a tat sleeve that he started at a way younger age than any of the other hockey guys, and a scarred up face that added to his rough and tough look. He had one scar under his cheekbone that he kinda hid with scruff, one that ran through an eyebrow, and another on his lip from taking a stick to the face. As a kid, I was definitely scared he’d snap me in half. I looked back down at Canyon. “He yelled at me once back in the day and I almost peed myself.”

His face broke into a disbelieving smile. “What?!”

“Yeah,” I chuckled. “He’s got a mean mug and he was super serious about hockey. Seems like he’s chill now though.”

“Oh yeah, Coach is super nice. He never yells and stuff when we mess up.” Troy sat there and thought for a second. “Actually, he’s more likely to laugh.” He shrugged his small shoulders. “Remember when Kuddy pooped his pants?”

Canyon cackled at that. “Yeah, in the middle of a game and everything. Dad starts laughing his butt off, can’t even keep a straight face. It smelled sooo bad.”

---