thought right. I appreciate it.”
I really shouldn’t have been surprised that either of them had noticed or that one had come looking for me. Kuznetsov had seen me through this more times than I could count. Maddox too. It was kind of an unspoken thing on the team that if I started getting freaked out, my teammates would leave me alone but send Maddox or Kuznetsov to talk me down. I hated having them see me like this, and I’d begged them a million times to keep it to themselves, but I was beyond grateful whenever they were there.
A few times, they’d both floated the idea of me talking to Coach or one of the team docs about it, and even Coach and the docs had gently prodded me with the suggestion too, but I didn’t, and they didn’t force it. Seemed like the general consensus was that I was a high-strung player who could play hockey when it counted. As long as this didn’t interfere with what I was paid to do—and it didn’t, aside from the odd practice—then they could all live with it.
And I didn’t go see anyone because I was afraid they’d put a name on whatever was wrong with me, and it would be something that would make the club rethink renewing my contract. There were weird regulations about what did and didn’t disqualify someone from being able to play, and the thought of finding out that whatever was going on in my head was a disqualifier… Well, ironically, it made me freak the fuck out.
At least here and now, Kuznetsov had talked me down, and though I was jittery and wrung out, I was pretty sure I could get through the rest of today. I might be useless for the morning skate, but by tonight, I’d be ready to play hockey.
I picked up my water bottle from beside my skates and took a deep swallow. Then I pressed it against my forehead and closed my eyes.
We sat in silence for a little while before he said, “Hey, did you ever talk to Richard about doing another game like we did for that kid? For kids who can’t deal with the crowds and noise?”
The subject change was abrupt, but he’d talked me through this enough times that I knew exactly what he was doing—pulling my focus to something else so I could come back to earth. I was beyond grateful he knew me this well.
“I, um…” I sat up, rolling my painfully tight shoulders under my pads. “No, I haven’t. Do you think he’d be down with it?”
Kuznetsov shrugged. “I don’t know. But the girl we played for that night—she can’t be the only one, you know?”
“No, she can’t.” I tilted my head to one side, then the other, to pop my neck. “Do you think anyone would go for it? Making it happen again?”
“Maybe? Has Richard ever said no to anything that’s good PR?”
I laughed uncomfortably. He had a point, but the thought of doing any actual PR made me want to gag, and not just because I was still keyed up. I was fine with doing PR events and shit like that as long as I wasn’t the one with the microphone in my hand or the camera in my face. It was tempting to punt this one to Kuznetsov, since he was obviously interested in getting the whole thing off the ground, but my pride already wanted to have a word with me about needing my teammate to talk me down from the rafters. Again. So I just said, “I’ll, um… I’ll talk to Richard about it.”
“Great. Let me know when. I’ll come too.”
“Will do. Anyway, we should, uh…” I gestured at my skates. “Coach is probably wondering where we are.”
“Probably.” He didn’t move. “You good, though?”
“I’m good.” I gave his padded shoulder a firm pat. “Thanks, man.”
He nodded sharply. “Don’t mention it. And say so if you’re not.”
“Will do.”
He probably knew as well as I did that I was terrible about reaching out, but I knew as well as he did that he and Maddox would be keeping a close eye on me for the rest of the day.
“Go skate.” I nodded in the general direction of the arena. “I’m good.”
“You coming?”
I considered it, then shook my head. “I’ll be fine tonight, though.”
Kuznetsov smiled. “You better be.”
Then he continued out to rejoin our team, and I sat alone in the locker room for a long time, just letting myself come back