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The fact that I was unaware and unable to fight back didn’t stop the savagery, and my attackers continued their assault. I expect they were pissed that I saved the girl and spoiled their fun. They stabbed me again and used their metal weapon to strike me in my lower back.

I lost my spleen in emergency surgery when the surgeons worked to patch up the stab wounds, but all my other organs remained blessedly intact. There was nothing they could do at first for the spinal cord contusion. I was paralyzed from the waist down, and they had to wait for the swelling to subside.

Seems like a lifetime ago.

But it’s only been seven months, and I’ve worked my ass off to battle back in my recovery. The doctors have always given me hope to strive for. After a second surgery to stabilize my spine, I was told chances were good I’d walk again. They wanted that to be my goal, but that wasn’t good enough.

I wanted to get back on the ice.

Funny how things work out. Instead, I am heading to Pittsburgh in the morning to become the new goalie coach for the Titans.

Things are happening fast. I can’t believe I only decided a few hours ago to take the job. I’m appreciative of Riggs’s straight talk, and I’ll be forever grateful to him for helping me come to a decision. The jury is still out whether it was the right decision, but I feel good about it. I’m sad about it, too, because I’m leaving what has become my family.

The party is at our captain’s house. Bishop Scott has been an amazing influence on my career with this team. I was not the primary goalie—that honor went to Legend Bay, and you’ll never hear me bemoan the fact that I was backup to him. He’s one of the best this league will ever see.

As the backup goalie, I always had to be ready to go in. It means I had to train and be at the top of my game, as close to Legend’s abilities as I could be without having the benefit of playing in the same number of games for real-time practice. The pressure and expectations of the backup goalie are high, and Bishop is almost solely responsible for keeping my focus on doing my job well. While not acting as a coach per se, he was very much a mentor, and I will take that experience with me into my new job.

In other words, I need to be as much a mental coach as a physical coach to my goalies.

I ring the doorbell to Bishop’s house, but no one answers. I turn the knob, push open the door, and step across the threshold. Through the foyer and across the large living area, I can see straight out into the backyard through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Even though the sun is setting, the guys are sitting around the patio where apparently this party will be happening.

I join my teammates—actually, I suppose they’re former teammates now—out on the patio, the smell of cigar smoke wafting my way.

“About damn time you showed up,” Erik says from a low-slung chair. He waves his cigar in one hand and lifts his highball glass filled with amber liquid in the other.

“Grab a drink and a stogie and join us, dude.”

I pass on the cigar, but I do pour myself a drink. Bishop has set up a variety of cocktail ingredients, but I fix a simple Jack and Coke. It will be my only drink of the night, but I don’t need to get drunk to make this a good going-away party.

I take a seat in one of the patio chairs, noting that Riggs did me right and only kept it to my closest friends.

Bishop, Erik, Legend, Dax, Tacker, Aaron, Jett, Bane, Jim, and Riggs. Looking at these men, they’re easy to identify as the first and second lines for the Arizona Vengeance. But that’s not how friendships are divided on a team. It just so happens that these two lines have become close over the past year and a half as individual friendships between a few crossed over to form this tight-knit group.

My gaze goes to Bishop. “I’m assuming we’re outside to hide the cigar smoke?”

Bishop snorts. “Brooke would kill me if she knew. I’ll have to wash these clothes before she gets home tonight.”

I look around and ask of no one in particular, “Are all the women hanging out tonight?”

Bishop shakes his head. “Women apparently are incapable of impromptu get-togethers and all had plans. But Brooke is hanging with her dad to give us a true guys’ night.”

I smile fondly at the mention of Coach Perron, who happens to be Brooke’s dad. I stopped by his office today to inform him in person of my decision to leave the team. He gave me some great pointers that I’ll take to heart, but he didn’t seem surprised by my decision. That tells me I’m going with the most beneficial choice.


Tags: Sawyer Bennett Pittsburgh Titans Romance