Morning skate was harder than usual. Coach Cherney pushed us. We needed it. We were so close to making the playoffs and we needed the extra motivation to really focus.

I could admit that my head was not all there this morning. Simba was still at the forefront of my mind. When I walked him in the morning, he looked good, much better than he had looked before. However, I knew that it would take a lot more than just walks and quiet to help him recover. I needed to ensure that I stayed on top of everything so he would not be relapse and have another stroke, especially with me traveling eight months out of the year.

More than that, I could not get Kira out of my head. I hadn’t expected to have such strong feelings for someone I had only known for a couple of weeks. I was almost afraid to call it love, even though that was exactly what it felt like.

Cherney was on me today, which I deserved. The great thing about Cherney was that he never lingered on anything. If I had a shit game, we moved forward the next day - unless I messed up so bad, he decided to bench me the next game which, up to this point, hadn’t happened, thank goodness. If I had a good game, we forgot all about it the minute the clock struck twelve. He only judged me based on what I gave him that day.

In the locker room, Brandon Thorpe came up to me. He was already dressed, ready to take off. It was highly unusual for our goalie to go out of his way to socialize with people. He was our captain, but he didn’t really seem to like people all that much. Even during games, it took a lot out of him to give an inspiring speech.

“Hey,” he said, nodding his head. I was lacing up my shoes and nodded my hello as he took a seat next to me on the bench.

The locker room was nearly empty, the majority of the team having already dispersed.

“Mind if I talk to you about something?” he asked.

I shook my head, setting my attention to my other shoe. “Everything okay?” I asked. I didn’t want to make it a big deal that he was talking to me, but the truth of the matter was, it was a big deal.

He nodded his head. “I know it’s been a couple of weeks since that bullshit suspension,” he said, his voice low. “I just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.”

“Oh.” That was surprising. I wondered if this was coming from Seraphina Hanson, owner of the Newport Beach Seagulls, or if it was Brandon. Rumor had it that Brandon and Seraphina were together and I pretty much confirmed it when they asked for legal advice back in mid-February. “Yeah. I mean, it hurt. I’m going to be honest. I was really proud of that streak, but things happen and I need to move on.” I shrugged, trying to play it off like I didn’t care.

To be honest, I hadn’t even thought of my streak. Once that happened, though, it started a string of events that caused me to finally connect with Kira. Rose broke up with me, Simba had his stroke, and Kira woke up with her naked body around mine.

I would be lying if I said I hadn’t noticed her in the stands. She was beautiful in an earthy kind of way. Down to earth. Relatable. Fun. It was hard to focus even when I played my game. Even then, I felt guilty. I pretended that wasn’t the case. I pretended she was no one, just another face. I kept staring though, kept making it obvious. 

“I think it’s bullshit, if you want my opinion,” Brandon said, shrugging his shoulders. “The hit was low and I’ve seen worse hits garner a fine at best. You were called on the ice.”

“Yeah, apparently their concern stemmed from how late it was,” I said, not bothering to hide the bitterness in my voice. “It is what it is. It happened. It’s done. Now, a new one will start and we can just go from there.”

Thorpe grinned. It was odd to see him grin. He didn’t have much of a personality which made it difficult for others to like him.

“I don’t give a shit what the league says,” he said. His eyes watched as the rest of the players trickled out of our locker room, hollering a quick goodbye over their shoulders. “I don’t give a shit what anyone else says, either. The Gulls are going to continue to honor your streak, Drew. You’ve worked your ass off, more than the majority of the players in this league.”

I felt myself smile at his words. They meant more to me than he realized. It hit me then, that Thorpe was right. Fuck what the league said. Fuck that my streak ended because of a technicality. I didn’t care what anyone said. My streak was still alive. My streak still mattered.

“Thanks,” I told him. “I didn’t really think of it that way.”

He nodded his head once and then clapped me on the back. The gesture was stiff. I could tell he wasn’t used to offering physical support, but I appreciated the gesture. I stuck out my hand and he shook it. It was actually a nice moment between us. If I told anyone on the team, they probably wouldn’t believe me.

“Anyway.” Thorpe cleared his throat and stepped back. His awkwardness had returned. It was actually amusing to witness his discomfort at simply being friendly. “We have a big game tomorrow. Big two points.”

I nodded. “Definitely,” I agreed. “We’ve got this though. I think we have a good chance this year.”

“Me too.” He reached out and I thought he was going to clap me on the back again but he stopped himself and dropped it.

I did laugh that time.

Right now, I was ready to go home.