Page 1 of The Rebound Play
CHAPTER 1
DAN
I reach for the remote to silence the game on TV as I listen to my former teammate and mentor, Troy Hart, on the other end of the line. I’ve been lounging on my oversized sofa as I recover from my latest PT session. Being benched for a left wrist injury during the Chicago Blizzard preseason wasn’t exactly the way I planned things to go this year, and I’m frustrated I’m not fit to be out on the ice with the team.
But Coach’s word is law in my world, and he’s benched me for the next five or six weeks.
I’m about as happy about it as a polar bear in a sauna.
I put the phone on speaker and sit upright. “Wait. Did I hear you right, Troy? You want me to come back to Maple Falls to play hockey for a kids’ charity team called the Ice Breakers?”
“That’s what I said,” he replies.
“But there is no kids’ charity hockey team in Maple Falls.”
“There is now, thanks to me and Zach, my loaded brother. He’s matching the sponsors’ donations, and all proceeds from the games will go to charity.”
Zach Hart, billionaire. Huh. The idea of that fancy guy in my small hometown in Washington state is almost laughable.
“Which charity?” I ask.
“Happy Horizons Ranch. Angel Davis runs it. She’s a local here in Maple Falls.”
“Angel Davis? I’ve known her just about since birth.”
Troy laughs. “Maple Falls sure is a small town. Angel does a great job helping disadvantaged kids learn outdoorsy skills on her ranch. Kids come from all over the county these days.”
A worthy cause for sure.
“You know I’m down with an injury, right?” I ask, instinctively rotating my left wrist to assess the pain.
Yup, there it is.
I hurt it at practice last week, smashing into the plexiglass in an uncompromisingly aggressive hit from the team rookie. It turns out plexiglass is a lot tougher than my wrist. I told Coach he was overreacting when he benched me, that it was just a sprain. But he wasn’t listening. Said I was too important to the team to compromise. Said he’s got his eye on me as captain once our current captain, Carter, retires.
I should take it as a compliment. All I am is frustrated.
Time on the ice back in my hometown sounds more than tempting—once my wrist is healed.
“I do know you’re injured. I also know you desperately want to play, and you’re benched with the Blizzard.”
“Do you know everything?” I joke.
“Yup,” is his straightforward answer. “I can give you ice time as captain of the Ice Breakers, right here in your hometown. Perfect, right? Game time and family time.”
I always went on about how great my hometown in Washington state was when Troy was on the team, and clearly, the guy was listening. He and his wife, Kelly, bought an arena when they moved there not that long ago.
As he is older than me and was already a gold medal Olympian and top NHL player by the time I joined the team straight out of college, I’ve always looked up to Troy. He was the elder statesman of the team. If Troy says come home and play hockey for a kids’ charity, I’m not going to question the guy—particularly when he’s offering to clear it with my team management.
“Keep talking,” I tell him as I lean back against my seat, the cream leather groaning against my bulk. What can I say? We hockey players aren’t exactly known for our small frames. I’m 6′5″ with a decent amount of muscle and shoulders my high school coach once described as wide enough to block out the sun. I'm no ninety-pound weakling, and if I were, I wouldn't be able to do what I do for a living.
“It's a six week commitment, including practice time and five games against the Canadian Lumberjacks. And it'll be great for your state of mind. Being benched for an injury is no picnic.”
“You got that right,” I grind out.
Troy laughs. “I remember the days when not playing a game felt like the end of the world. But trust me, Dan, there is life outside of hockey.”
“You sure about that?”