Page 111 of The Husband Game

Dustin made it through his vertical jumps, sprints, pushups, pullups, and single leg squat test sweaty and triumphant. The Wingate test made him want to vomit like always, and by the time he finished the VO2 Max test, he was ready to lie on the floor and die.

But there were other people to test and Dustin was supposed to be setting an example or something so he manfully staggered into the locker room. He took a quick shower to squeegee off the sweat, then dress in his full practice gear.

As uniforms went on, the team was fairly evenly divided between guys bragging about how they’d nailed the dryland tests and others looking like they wanted to quietly die in a corner.

None looked more wrecked than Felix Hale.

He was pale and sweaty, his hair damply curling against his forehead. Half-dressed, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, breathing shakily.

“Hey, you okay, Haler?” Dustin asked, concerned.

He only let out a grunt.

“Seriously, man.” Dustin settled a hand on his shoulder, concerned by the cool clamminess of his skin. “Did you eat enough? Hydrate properly?”

“Probably could have hydrated more,” Felix muttered.

“Okay, let me grab you something.”

By the time Dustin was fully dressed and Felix had finished the sports drink, he did look a little better. His color had improved and he wasn’t as shaky.

“Thanks,” Felix gave him a small, grateful smile. “Guess I wasn’t prepared this year.”

Dustin nodded and slapped his teammate’s shoulder before he headed toward the ice. But he frowned as he clomped his way down the hall on his skates.

Felix Hale not being prepared?

That was the least likely thing Dustin had ever heard.

Felix was the guy who showed up twenty minutes early to everything. He was the one with meticulously organized suitcases, the one guys went to when they forgot something at home because he always had a spare, just in case.

Being unprepared wasn’t in his vocabulary.

Hopefully he wasn’t coming down with something.

Felix was the last one out on the ice today though, late enough Coach Casey gave him an unimpressed look. “Nice of you to join us, Hale. Take a knee.”

He did it, sliding into place beside Jonah, like always, in the loose semi-circle on the ice. They knelt, listening to their coach explain the plan for the on-ice testing.

After Casey’s speech, they spent the next hour and a half on the ice, running tests.

Dustin completed his goal line to far blue line sprints in 2.4 seconds, well under the average of 2.6, and he bumped shoulders with Matty as he joined him in line for the next test.

“Boom. I am killing it today.”

“Nice one.” Matty bumped knuckles with him. “Haler’s not looking so hot though. What’s up with that?”

“I know.” Dustin grimaced. He was focused on his own shit when it was his turn but Felix had gone before him and he’d caught the grimace Coach Casey had made at his slow time. “It’s not like him.”

“It’s really not.”

But then it was Dustin’s turn for center ice sprints.

He held his own with the max sprints to the center red line and back, then killed it during his endurance lap test.

He was flushed and sweaty by the time he was done, sore and aching, but still exhilarated.

Every year he worried a little that he’d start slowing down or struggle to make it through the testing. But so far, he’d proven himself wrong every time. It wouldn’t last, it couldn’t last, and at some point he’d see a drop-off, but that wasn’t today.

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