ShouldveKnownBetter (26 page)

The next thing he knew, he heard a voice amidst the fog.

“Sebastian, you’re dreaming. Wake up.”

He curled into himself, his mind confused and going around in circles, but the voice kept talking.

“Sebastian. Wake up.”

His eyes flew open. “What the hell are you doing?” Sarah was leaning over him, shaking him.

“You were dreaming.”

He swore and sat up. So much for that idea. Running his hands through his hair, he let out a frustrated groan.

“Have you been having nightmares?”

“Yeah. Rob’s had to come in a couple of times. I almost took a swing at him once.” Sebastian ran his hands through his hair as he studied her. “
Merde,
I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

Sarah bit her lip as if considering how to answer his question, and he frowned. “You pushed me off the couch.”

“Oh, God, Sarah.” His voice cracked as his gaze roved over her. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

“No. I was just startled.”

Sebastian shot to his feet, tripping over the blankets before finally untangling them with a growl. “I need to get out of here.”

“What? Why?”

“I put so much faith into this helping. The counselor told me it might, but it’s not. I need to go home.”
I need to get the hell out of here before I do something awful.

“It’s okay, you can stay—”

Sebastian barked out a bitter laugh. “What, and coldcock you the next time one of those bitches shows up in my dream?”

“You won’t hurt me.”

Rounding on her, he exploded. “How do you know that?
I
don’t even know that. I don’t know anything anymore. Those women stole so freaking much and I’m way beyond pissed. I don’t even know what to do about it, but I can’t stay here.”

“Please, Sebastian, don’t leave. It’s late.” Sarah’s brow was furrowed and she was frowning, but he couldn’t let her influence him.

“I have to.”

“At least let me drive you.”

“Fine, whatever, let’s just go.”

Soon they were in her car. He stared out the passenger window, brooding. His therapist had told him not to dwell, but he’d just assaulted someone. How could you not dwell on that?

When they arrived at his house, he put his hand on the doorknob but didn’t open it. “I’m messed up right now. You shouldn’t be caught up in this crap.”

“Sebastian, I will never abandon you. Never. If all this taught me one thing, it’s that I need you in my life, however I can get you.”

He scoffed. “Need me like this? I doubt it.”

Sarah rubbed her forehead.

She must be exhausted.
A pang of guilt settled in his already-overworked heart.

“Get some sleep, or at least try to. I’m here anytime you want to talk, day or night.” She tentatively laid a hand on his shoulder, and despite his efforts not to, he flinched. “Are you hearing me?”

“Yeah, I got it.” He stepped out of the car and trudged up to the front door, his shoulders slumped and his head down. When would this end?

****

After the night Sebastian pushed her off her couch, Sarah gave him a wide berth, and over the course of the next several weeks, focused on providing the team with information and analysis to help them win. If she could prove her worth, maybe they’d consider keeping her on after the season ended. If they didn’t, she had nowhere else to go. Spending all that time working also helped keep her mind off Sebastian’s troubles.

He was polite, but cool when they encountered each other at the arena, and she understood why, but that didn’t make it any easier. She and Rob had taken to exchanging text messages a couple of times a day. Rob had been like a rock for Sebastian these past weeks, and the weight on Sarah’s shoulders was eased a little knowing Sebastian wasn’t alone.

One night as she watched a game from the press box, she noticed one of the Boston players switching sticks, from one to another and then back again. Players oftentimes used more than one stick during a game because the composite sticks were susceptible to breaking, but this guy was switching back and forth between the same two sticks, which wasn’t usual.

It appeared he was using one stick in the defensive zone and another in the offensive zone. She couldn’t tell from her vantage point high above the ice what was different about the sticks however. In addition, he was coming off the ice after the offensive zone face-offs in favor of the team’s star scoring center, who was taking very few face-offs.

Using her microphone connection to the bench, she told Eric what she’d been seeing and asked him to have a peek at the player’s sticks.

After a while, the coach reported back there was a much bigger curve on the stick the player used in the offensive zone than the one for the defensive zone. They decided to check out video in between periods to try to figure out why the player was switching sticks, as well as why the other center wasn’t taking face-offs.

The period ended, and as she and Doug got to the coaches’ office, an idea took shape, and she nodded. “I think he’s using Karalov’s stick for the offensive zone face-offs.”

“Why would he do that?” Doug asked.

“I don’t know, but that stick was from a different manufacturer than his usual stick. I bet if we looked closer it would have Karalov’s name and number on it.”

Eric strolled in. “What are you guys talking about?”

“Sarah thinks Larson is using Karalov’s stick for those face-offs in the O-zone.”

“Interesting. What would make him change sticks all the time?”

“That’s what we were debating,” Sarah answered. “It didn’t seem right to me that a checking center like Larson would use a stick with such a wicked curve. Then I noticed it’s a different manufacturer than his regular stick. That’s when I started thinking maybe it was Karalov’s stick, since everybody knows how much Karalov likes those banana boats. Can you try to get a better look at the beginning of the second to see if the curved stick has Karalov’s information on it?”

“Will do, but maybe we can see whether or not it does in the video.”

“True. We should try that first. That way, we could talk to Jon before the end of intermission,” Sarah said.

The three of them watched the video, and sure enough, the stick belonged to Karalov. Now they just had to figure out why Larson was using Karalov’s stick, and why Karalov himself wasn’t taking face-offs.

They went to see Jon with the information, and together with the other coaches, plus Ben and the assistant captains, they decided to continue to watch both players during the upcoming period, since they had no consensus for why Larson would be using another player’s stick. If they saw something, they still had the entire third period to take action.

Just before the team hit the ice at the end of intermission Jon pulled Sarah aside. “Thanks for noticing the situation. None of us saw it.”

She sent up a quick prayer it was the start of him trusting her again. If management decided to let her go after the season, she didn’t know what she’d do. Sarah loved being a part of this hockey team.

In the second period, Karalov didn’t use his left hand very often. They surmised he had injured his hand or his wrist at some point earlier in the game, but while that would explain why the man wasn’t taking face-offs, it didn’t explain why Larson was using Karalov’s stick. Sarah bet the stick’s curvature was illegal, which would give Larson an advantage in those offensive zone face-offs. He’d be able to more easily redirect the puck in the desired direction. She called down to Eric and, after the Storm fell down by two near the end of the second period, Jon called for a stick measure.

The officials took the stick, which was Karalov’s stick but currently in Larson’s hands, measured it, found it had an illegal curve, and confiscated it. Larson got a two-minute penalty for using another player’s stick, and the bench was assessed a minor penalty for the illegal stick.

The Storm scored twice on the ensuing five and three and the power play that followed their first goal. The Storm won the game 4-3. In the locker room after the game, Jon acknowledged it was Sarah who figured out the two-stick puzzle, and the team gave her a cheer, which finally took away some of the tension about her job.

Now if she could only find a way to earn back Sebastian’s trust. She glanced at him, but his gaze was locked on the floor in front of him. Her heart ached for him, and she went to her office surrounded by the familiarity of abject sadness.

****

With a little over two weeks left in the regular season, the Storm faced a rough stretch where they played a game nearly every other night. Sebastian welcomed the busy schedule. It was easier not to deal with the mess that was his personal life. At least only a few were road games, and those were short trips to division rivals Toronto and Boston.

The team clinched the playoffs during that stretch, but the players made a pact to go on a run and try to capture the first overall spot. That was one of the only things that excited Sebastian—the team had clinched a spot so early yet they weren’t taking their foot off the gas. A team who came into the playoffs on a high rather than sitting back and taking it easy did better.

Going into the playoffs on a winning streak and capturing the first spot in their conference would not only mean they’d have home ice advantage for the entire duration of the playoffs, but their confidence would be sky-high. The team played well on the road, but coming into the Storm’s building was getting more and more difficult for opposing teams, which was exactly what Jon wanted.

Sebastian was proud to be a part of the success of the team that had lost just eight games out of thirty-five played at home so far. No team wanted to face Buffalo on home ice.

The team dedicated themselves to the pact with a level of determination Sebastian had never seen but wanted to hold onto forever. They lived and died for each other on the ice, working like dogs to stay ahead of their opponents. Many of them were playing hurt, including him. He was nursing a lower back injury that with any luck would calm down in time for the grind of the playoffs.

As the playoffs grew closer, he saw less and less of Sarah even though they worked increasingly long hours. They’d begun to get together for dinners and coffee to talk, at Sebastian’s request, but they always met in public. He hadn’t asked to come to her house since that night he’d had the nightmare there.

During these get-togethers, he didn’t touch her other than to steady her on a patch of ice or when he helped her into his car, and though he mourned the close physical relationship they’d enjoyed when they’d first begun to date, taking things slow was the best chance they had of surviving all of this. He didn’t even know how to classify what they were doing now. Even worse, Sebastian wasn’t sure if he was afraid to be alone with her or if there was more going on. The whole bachelor auction thing was really messing with his head. It was the last freaking thing he needed to worry about during his first playoffs.

The NHL playoffs were well-known for being the most difficult in sports. They were so grueling mentally and physically they could sap the strength of even the strongest, most intense player for months afterward. The level of intensity was so high for so long the playoffs were at their heart an exercise in attrition; survival of the fittest in its purest form.

Before Game One Jon gathered everybody in the dressing room and gave the team a pre-game pep talk. Sebastian wasn’t sure what to expect, as Jon wasn’t known for being sentimental. He was more of a fire-and-brimstone coach.

“You guys have been through a shitload of stuff this year, but you didn’t let everything get to you, didn’t take your eyes from the prize,” Jon said. “Well, now you have the opportunity to play for that prize. You have the right attitude, along with the tools and the desire, to win it all. I really believe that.”

Sebastian was riveted. He’d never heard Jon this positive and passionate.

Jon looked around at the players. “Understanding what it took to get here, and to bring home a championship, is crucial. The playoffs are when you find out what your teammates are willing to do to win the Stanley Cup. Are you guys ready to battle for each other? To do whatever is necessary to bring this town a championship?”

He finished his talk by gathering everybody into a group around him. He got down on one knee and peered up into the sea of faces. “Talent wins games, but teamwork and intelligence wins championships.”

Sebastian smiled. Now that was the coach he was used to. Jon was forever quoting Michael Jordon, one of his favorite athletes. This particular quote was pretty popular in hockey circles and Sebastian wasn’t surprised Jon liked it.

Jon let it sink in for a bit, then roared, “Let’s go win a championship! Everybody in!”

At the end of two periods, the score was tied at one and tensions were running high in the locker room. The third period started and the Storm was pressing hard to get the go-ahead goal. It was clear the team was in for the fight of their lives. Sebastian’s line was getting double the ice time as Jon went down to three lines from the usual four. Keeping the best offensive players out there provided the team with much-needed energy.

Unfortunately, the Storm couldn’t solve New Jersey’s goaltender and regulation ended, sending the game into overtime. Since it was the playoffs, the teams got a full twenty minutes before the start of overtime. Conceivably, overtime could last hours since it was played until a goal was scored. Because of that, the teams got extra time to rest.

The first overtime period came and went with not much to show for it, except that two of their star players took hard hits in the corners and were held out of the game while Colby checked each over. Both players returned to the locker room in between the first and second overtimes and declared themselves ready to go. Only a severed limb would keep the guys out of the lineup in a game like this. Without any further discussion Jon put them back in the lineup.

The second overtime period began, and several moments later, Sebastian and Ben were sprung on a two-on-one breakaway after catching the New Jersey defensemen flat-footed. They were at the end of their shift and dead tired, but Ben shoveled the puck to Sebastian, who dove for it as it careened wildly in front of him.