The next day, I’m at the rink with the rookie, practicing defensive drills.


    “Again.” I gesture at the fourth-line forwards I’ve wrangled into a scrimmage. “This time, use your body weight. Get physical, Walker. Shove the other guy out of the way, get him against the boards, do what you need to do to disrupt the y.”


    We run the y, but the forwards sail past Walker with the puck.


    “Walker,” I yell across the ice. I don’t know why this isn’t getting through to him. “What did I say?”


    “Get physical.” I can hear the frustration in his voice, and his usual smirk is gone.


    “Okay. Again.”


    We try again and again, but it’s not working. My mood sinks, and the rookie can feel it. At the bench, Ward watches me fail.


    “Let’s take a break,” I tell Walker before skating over to Ward.


    “How’s it going?” he asks.


    Terrible. I don’t even know where to start with the rookie. “He has a long way to go.”


    “That’s why I paired you together. Be patient with him. You guys will figure it out.” His gaze flicks to my shoulder. “How’s that shoulder doing?”


    “Great. Feels brand-new.”


    Even now, the dull ache throbs. Exercise releases pain-relieving endorphins, but the pain always returns.


    Ward watches me like he doesn’t believe me. “You’ll talk to me if anything changes?”


    “Yes.” Never. I’ll just get better at ignoring the pain.


    “Good.” His eyes warm. “I saw the photos online. Congrattions.”


    I pull my glove off and we shake hands. “Thank you.”


    I nce up to her office overseeing the rink. The light’s on, so she must have gotten home okayst night. Yes, I can’t stand her, but her walking down that dark alley reyed in my head all night.


    If Ward suspects anything about the reasons for our marriage in rtion to my citizenship, he doesn’t bring it up. Instead, his brow wrinkles. “My admin didn’t see your response to the team dinner tomorrow night.”


    The wee back dinner for yers and staff. I wasn’t nning on going. “I can’t make it.”


    “Dr. Greene is going but you can’t?”


    “Family stuff.” There. Nice and vague.


    “If there’s any way you can reschedule, I’d like you to be there. It’s important to show the new yers and staff that we’re allmitted, especially experienced yers like yourself.”


    The thing about Ward is he knows exactly how to get you. He knows I feel a responsibility to this team. Maybe it’s that I admire his hands-on coaching style, that he’s incredible at uniting a group of strangers to work toward amon goal, or maybe that he genuinely seems to want the best for us, but I want to make him proud.


    I clear my throat and nod. “I’ll be there.”


    “Good man. Thank you.”


    The dinner will take an hour or two, and I can slip out early. There will be so many people there, I won’t even have to talk to the doctor.


    I think about our wedding, how beautiful she looked as she spat insults at me. How the hairs on my arm rose when I put the ring on her finger. The way my heart beat out of my chest as I kissed her. The second our mouths met, an electric shock ran through me.


    I froze up. I never freeze up. I don’t know what happened.


    As Ward’s about to leave, he pauses. “You didn’t get a honeymoon.”


    Honeymoon? The idea of being stuck alone in a hotel room with the doctor for a week is a nightmare.


    A real couple would go on a honeymoon, though.


    Worst kiss of my life, she’d said. I remember the way her soft lips felt, and my jaw tightens.


    “We’ll do it at Christmas,” I lie. “Before Miller and Hazel’s wedding.”


    Fuck. Why’d I say that? I don’t go to weddings. Miller and Hazel are getting married on New Year’s Eve in Silver Falls, a tiny ski town in the interior of British Columbia where her and Pippa’s parents live. I’ve already RSVP’d no.


    Three months is a long time from now. A lot could happen. I’ll find an excuse to get out of it.


    My mind flicks to the doctor’s extensive shoe collection, and I wonder which pair she’ll wear to the wedding.


    Ward nods with a pleased expression. “That’s great. There’s more to life than hockey.”


    No, there isn’t. “Okay.”


    “This career doesn’tst forever and once it’s gone . . .” He shakes his head, a wry smile pulling up on his mouth. “Some guys have a tough time after retirement, when they don’t have anything other than hockey.” He gives me a quick wave, a nod, and he’s gone.


    Don’t I fucking know it. My retirement looms closer with each day.