Rushing the Goal
Page 14
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But how?
And did he even deserve it?
He wasn’t sure, but as Shea spoke about his years and years in the league, Benji realized Shea did miss playing. Who wouldn’t? It was the greatest sport ever. Benji loved hockey. It was his go-to, his identifier; he’d been playing since he was a baby. It was something he and his dad always did together, every day. Not so much now, since he hadn’t spoken to his mom or dad in almost ten years, but he still had good memories of the long nights in the driveway, playing some stick and puck with his dad. Back when he spoke to his family. Back when they loved and supported him. Back when Silas was alive and begged to be their goalie.
He missed those times.
He missed his family.
Jesus, he thought, shaking his head and swallowing hard around the painful lump in his throat. His memories were flooding him like mad today, which wasn’t unusual—he was lonely—but today was different. He may need to call Richie after practice. Just a quick check-in with his sponsor since he hadn’t done it in the last three days. He was due.
“Thinking again?” Angie whispered up to him and he looked down at her, shrugging.
“Yeah, sorry.”
“He’s calling your name.”
Benji looked up, meeting Shea’s expectant gaze. “That’s Coach Benji, who is off in his own world, and Coach Vaughn. I used to play with them on the Assassins.”
Benji waved awkwardly as Vaughn rolled his eyes, waving too at his name.
“Coach Benji is here in replacement of Coach Jayden, so don’t get too attached to him.”
He heard Angie complain beside him, and he was two seconds from doing the same. He liked this and he hadn’t even really gotten started; he’d need to talk to Shea. He felt right here. Like this was something he needed to do. He hadn’t felt like that in a really long time, and that had to mean something.
After blowing his whistle once more, Shea broke everyone up into groups. Benji got group two, which included Angie. He had three drills he was supposed to run with the six little girls, and as they skated toward the other side of the rink, he thanked his lucky stars because he had all the kids who had played last year. They knew the drills, ran them like champs, well, except Angie.
“It’s okay. You haven’t done them before,” he reassured her as she skated back, upset. He was starting to think he had misread her at the beginning. She might have been nervous instead of determined and focused. Each time, though, she watched the first three go to the blue line and back. He kept trying to reassure her, but more and more, he noticed her anxiety was getting worse. Until finally, when he blew the whistle, she stood there frozen as the other two girls raced around the cone, picking the puck up and going through the many little cones that were set up. So he blew the whistle again, but she didn’t move.
Okay, then.
Lowering down into a squat, Benji met her worried gaze. Well, more like panicked. “Hart?”
“I keep messing up,” she whispered, looking away.
He leaned down to meet her gaze again, seeing the tears gathering in her eyes. “It’s okay. What’s wrong?”
“I’m nervous.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to mess up.”
He smiled. “We all mess up, Angie. It’s how we pick ourselves back up and try harder. Don’t worry. You got this.”
She swallowed hard, looking around as her teammates watched her. She looked to Lucy and he did the same, seeing that Lucy was standing now, her face full of worry. “I think I—”
But he shook his head. “You don’t want to go home. I know you don’t. You want to do this.”
She met his gaze once more, a little more determination in her eyes. “I do.”
“Then, go. Come on, we’ll do it together.”
“Together?”
“Yup, I bet you can’t beat me,” he said, standing and putting his stick down, ready to go.
Her lips curved as her eyes filled with excitement. “Yes, I can!”
His grin matched hers as he brought the whistle to his lips. “Let’s go.”
As he blew the whistle, she shot off, and he was behind her, running around the cones and sliding the puck around the little cones that were there for stick handling. Like he knew she would, she flew through the course, almost at the rate he did—he was maybe a few seconds in front of her. But when he finished, he faked a leg cramp and hit the ice, sliding to the finish as the little girls laughed and Angie rushed back, finishing with ease.
Turning, she pinned him with a look as he slowly got up, favoring his “cramped” leg. “My leg cramped. That’s why you beat me.”
“Sure,” she said, her eyes bright with no anxiety to be seen. As he held his glove out, she tapped it and then nodded. “Thanks, Benji.”
He tipped his chin to her and then blew the whistle once more, the next group going as Angie went to the back of the line. They were having a blast by the seventh time they did it, and Benji was convinced he had the best group of girls. As he watched the girls round the cones, his eyes diverted to where Angie’s mom sat, her eyes on them intently. She held her face with one hand, the other holding her phone as she watched. She looked a little panicky, almost nervous and vulnerable.
He smiled, though, for her, but Lucy rolled her eyes and moved her gaze toward where Angie was about to go again. Man, she really didn’t like him, but he was sure that wasn’t his fault. He was a good enough guy, nice, and obviously awesome since Angie liked him. No, there was more to it. He didn’t know the whole story—how could he? But man, he really wanted to.
And did he even deserve it?
He wasn’t sure, but as Shea spoke about his years and years in the league, Benji realized Shea did miss playing. Who wouldn’t? It was the greatest sport ever. Benji loved hockey. It was his go-to, his identifier; he’d been playing since he was a baby. It was something he and his dad always did together, every day. Not so much now, since he hadn’t spoken to his mom or dad in almost ten years, but he still had good memories of the long nights in the driveway, playing some stick and puck with his dad. Back when he spoke to his family. Back when they loved and supported him. Back when Silas was alive and begged to be their goalie.
He missed those times.
He missed his family.
Jesus, he thought, shaking his head and swallowing hard around the painful lump in his throat. His memories were flooding him like mad today, which wasn’t unusual—he was lonely—but today was different. He may need to call Richie after practice. Just a quick check-in with his sponsor since he hadn’t done it in the last three days. He was due.
“Thinking again?” Angie whispered up to him and he looked down at her, shrugging.
“Yeah, sorry.”
“He’s calling your name.”
Benji looked up, meeting Shea’s expectant gaze. “That’s Coach Benji, who is off in his own world, and Coach Vaughn. I used to play with them on the Assassins.”
Benji waved awkwardly as Vaughn rolled his eyes, waving too at his name.
“Coach Benji is here in replacement of Coach Jayden, so don’t get too attached to him.”
He heard Angie complain beside him, and he was two seconds from doing the same. He liked this and he hadn’t even really gotten started; he’d need to talk to Shea. He felt right here. Like this was something he needed to do. He hadn’t felt like that in a really long time, and that had to mean something.
After blowing his whistle once more, Shea broke everyone up into groups. Benji got group two, which included Angie. He had three drills he was supposed to run with the six little girls, and as they skated toward the other side of the rink, he thanked his lucky stars because he had all the kids who had played last year. They knew the drills, ran them like champs, well, except Angie.
“It’s okay. You haven’t done them before,” he reassured her as she skated back, upset. He was starting to think he had misread her at the beginning. She might have been nervous instead of determined and focused. Each time, though, she watched the first three go to the blue line and back. He kept trying to reassure her, but more and more, he noticed her anxiety was getting worse. Until finally, when he blew the whistle, she stood there frozen as the other two girls raced around the cone, picking the puck up and going through the many little cones that were set up. So he blew the whistle again, but she didn’t move.
Okay, then.
Lowering down into a squat, Benji met her worried gaze. Well, more like panicked. “Hart?”
“I keep messing up,” she whispered, looking away.
He leaned down to meet her gaze again, seeing the tears gathering in her eyes. “It’s okay. What’s wrong?”
“I’m nervous.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to mess up.”
He smiled. “We all mess up, Angie. It’s how we pick ourselves back up and try harder. Don’t worry. You got this.”
She swallowed hard, looking around as her teammates watched her. She looked to Lucy and he did the same, seeing that Lucy was standing now, her face full of worry. “I think I—”
But he shook his head. “You don’t want to go home. I know you don’t. You want to do this.”
She met his gaze once more, a little more determination in her eyes. “I do.”
“Then, go. Come on, we’ll do it together.”
“Together?”
“Yup, I bet you can’t beat me,” he said, standing and putting his stick down, ready to go.
Her lips curved as her eyes filled with excitement. “Yes, I can!”
His grin matched hers as he brought the whistle to his lips. “Let’s go.”
As he blew the whistle, she shot off, and he was behind her, running around the cones and sliding the puck around the little cones that were there for stick handling. Like he knew she would, she flew through the course, almost at the rate he did—he was maybe a few seconds in front of her. But when he finished, he faked a leg cramp and hit the ice, sliding to the finish as the little girls laughed and Angie rushed back, finishing with ease.
Turning, she pinned him with a look as he slowly got up, favoring his “cramped” leg. “My leg cramped. That’s why you beat me.”
“Sure,” she said, her eyes bright with no anxiety to be seen. As he held his glove out, she tapped it and then nodded. “Thanks, Benji.”
He tipped his chin to her and then blew the whistle once more, the next group going as Angie went to the back of the line. They were having a blast by the seventh time they did it, and Benji was convinced he had the best group of girls. As he watched the girls round the cones, his eyes diverted to where Angie’s mom sat, her eyes on them intently. She held her face with one hand, the other holding her phone as she watched. She looked a little panicky, almost nervous and vulnerable.
He smiled, though, for her, but Lucy rolled her eyes and moved her gaze toward where Angie was about to go again. Man, she really didn’t like him, but he was sure that wasn’t his fault. He was a good enough guy, nice, and obviously awesome since Angie liked him. No, there was more to it. He didn’t know the whole story—how could he? But man, he really wanted to.
