Blindsided: Renegades 7 (The Renegades Series)

by Melody Heck Gatto

  She caught him dozing off a few times, and rubbing his temples when he didn’t think she was watching. Maybe it was too early for him to start working out. Any concern about that would be kept to herself. She knew her husband, and he’d never listen to her if she suggested it.

  “Babe, are you sure you’re okay?” She massaged his shoulders while they sat on the couch. He was so tense, his muscles were like rock.

  “Why?” Sam snipped, but quickly corrected his attitude with a shake of his head. “Yeah. Sorry. I’m good, just tired. I’m not used to so much activity. I just need to get back into the swing of things. Guess it’s taking more out of me than I thought.”

  He ended his comments by waving off her concerns.

  “I’m sure it’ll just take time.”

  But she wasn’t convinced that was all it was. And it didn’t stop her worries.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Sam

  Sam woke up before his alarm. It was still dark outside and the house was silent. Today was the day. Back to the arena. With any luck, it’d be for more than just a sit-down meeting.

  He’d been doing low impact off-ice workouts for about a week now. But today would be different. He was antsy to get back on the ice.

  After a two mile walk with Belle, a quick shower and breakfast, he was ready to get back to hockey. He managed to beat the rest of the team to the arena. Exiting his car, he took a deep breath, taking in his surroundings. He was back.

  As Sam opened the metal door to the staff entrance, the sound of thumping bass music filled the parking garage. Tires squealed as Luc sped into his parking space. He cut the engine but continued to listen to the music.

  As much as Luc could be an arrogant ass, Sam had missed that guy.

  Luc emerged from his sports car. With his tall build, it was humorous to watch him unfold himself from the low-to-the-ground vehicle.

  “Hey, Marcella! Turn that racket down!” Sam quipped loudly. He folded his arms and waited in the doorway.

  “Morris! Yo, the pretty-boy surfer-dude is back!” Luc called, his voice echoing off the cement structure.

  Luc was one of the younger guys on the team. Big mouth and even bigger ego. His hair, his music, and his cars topped the list of things Luc cared about most. He didn’t fit in with their group of married guys, due to his lack of tact and his fickle playboy ways.

  Sam shrugged. “Kind of.” All things considered, Luc was a good guy. He and Sam had hit it off when Luc was first called up from the minors.

  “Ah, got an appointment with the brass? Always a good time.” Luc rolled his eyes before he lightly punched Sam in the arm, grabbed the door, and nodded inside. “Good to have you back, brother.”

  “Well, thanks. I just hope I’ll be back on the ice sooner rather than later.” He knew how this went. He didn’t get to play until the docs cleared him. “Crossing my fingers at least for clearance for practices.”

  “You been watching the games?”

  “No. I haven’t even turned on the television. I was concerned about how it was going to make me feel with all the flashing colors and shit.”

  “Yeah, I get it. That hit really sucked balls, and I’m glad you’re okay. I know it’s only been a week, but we miss you out there, man.”

  Staff greeted Sam with smiles and waves as he strolled towards the locker room. Luc threw him a head nod and detoured into the changing room, and Sam knocked on the door of Coach Walker’s office.

  “Morris! Come in,” he called from his desk.

  “Hey, Coach.”

  “So I hear you’re feeling pretty good? Brownie said you’re doing great. Ready to go through some testing?”

  “Yeah, bring it on.” An exam should be no problem, and I’ll crush the physical part.

  Coach tapped his pen on the paper in front of him. “Rob says all your scans are clean. Nothing out of the ordinary. That’s good news. How about your symptoms? Anything going on that we should know about?” Coach looked at him for a moment before turning his attention back to the paperwork in front of him.

  Sam should say one of the many things running through his mind. The headaches, the stabbing pain, the sleepless nights, and the irritation, to name a few. But the only one that stood out was the one that popped out of his mouth. “No symptoms. I’ve been trying to rest, but you know me, Coach. Resting is for chumps. I’m sleeping okay, eating like normal, and playing with Willow like a good dad should.”

  “And after your workouts in the gym with Rob, things still good?”

  “Oh yeah. I’m good, Coach. Feeling fine. Compared to running around after my little girl, playing in the snow and taking the dogs for walks, a workout in the gym is nothing.”

  Coach Walker looked at him, his head cocked to the side as if he were trying to decide if Sam was telling the truth or not. He flipped through the papers again before moving his stare back to Sam. “Okay. Everything seems in order. Let’s get you back in to practice with the guys. But for now, you get to wear the stunning red no-contact jersey.”

  Sam didn’t care what kind of jersey he had to wear. If it meant he could get back to practicing with the team, he was cool with it.

  Coach closed the manila folder on his desk. He nodded in the direction of the locker room and smirked. “You better go get ready. You don’t want to be late. That’ll cost you laps.”

  Dressed in his gear, Sam stepped out on to the ice with the team. The chilled air hit his face. Gliding around the rink made him feel like he was back where he belonged. He’d missed the cold air and the smell of the ice.

  Kris and Tyler rounded the ice towards him.

  “Surfer-boy! It’s good to have you back on the ice.” Kris tapped Sam’s shin pads with his stick.

  Tyler crossed in front of him. “How’s it feel to be back, Morris?”

  “It feels great. I missed you losers.” Sam wasn’t lying; it felt great to be back with the team. But what didn’t feel so good was the glare from the lights hitting the ice, which stung his eyes. He didn’t have this issue when he was playing in the snow with Willow, but then he’d had sunglasses on. Maybe I need a tinted visor. But he didn’t want to draw any attention to the issue.

  The glare was the only issue he had. Until Kris rattled a puck off the glass behind their goalie, Kaden. The sound was like a gunshot and seared straight through Sam’s brain. Shaking his head, he tried to rid his head of the pain. Shot after shot smacked off the boards around the net, and he cringed with each one. Taking a deep breath, he had to overcome this before someone noticed.

  Sam skated around his team, focusing on the ice beneath his skates and breathing in the cool, crisp air. I can do this. He circled around to the opposite net. Luc and Torin were taking shots at Dom. Assistant Coach Sal shouted out tips to assist their game.

  Making a run towards the puck, he stick-handled it across center ice and shot at the other net, almost getting it by Dominic. But the goalie stopped it with his glove hand.

  “Good shot, Morris!” Sal yelled out.

  “You look good, bro,” Torin commented, with a tap to his stick.

  “Did you expect anything less from the surfer-boy?” Luc smirked. “I knew he’d be back to normal in no time.” Luc grabbed a puck and passed it to Sam.

  Not wanting to let his team down, Sam squinted and squared off his shoulders. Maybe I just needed to get back into this. Get my body adjusted again. Pushing himself, he sped around the net and wristed it to Torin.

  Pat joined their end of the ice, stole the puck from Torin, and raced to the net, bouncing the frozen rubber disk off the metal post. “Dammit.”

  “Can’t you ever hit the net, Pat?” Luc teased.

  “Dude, shut up.” Pat smirked at Sam, tipping his head towards Luc. “I bet you didn’t miss this one chirping all the time, huh, Morris?”

  The reality was he had missed it; he missed everything about this.

  “Morris!” Ty yelled from the other end of the ice, and nodded as he picked up speed towards Dom�
�s end.

  Sam knew what that meant. Tyler liked to show off in practice and go through all the moves he’d likely do on the ice during a game. He didn’t hold back, even in practice. Tyler slid the puck to him and cleared a path to the net for himself, calling for the puck again. Sam, already reading the play, passed it back to Tyler.

  Tyler faked to his right, then shot left, sliding the biscuit right under Dom’s leg pad and into the back of the net.

  “Score! Woo-hoo! Nice play, Morris!” Ty skated by and tapped Sam’s leg pads.

  At the end of practice, the guys in regular-contact jerseys went to Kaden’s end of the ice and took part in the rapid-fire of pucks on net. The loud noise rattled the boards and filled the arena.

  Sam’s ears rang as the loud sound of pucks bouncing off the glass and boards made his chest rattle. He never noticed that before, but now, after the injury, it was all he could concentrate on.

  “Morris?” Sal called, impatiently.

  Turning his attention to the assistant coach, he focused on Sal’s suggestions, and worked on his shots on net before doing a few half-laps around his end of the ice, and going through a few drills with Sal and Dom.

  Sam stayed on the ice after everyone else left. Dom vacated the net and joined the team in the locker room.

  Sal and Coach Walker stayed out and instructed Sam in a few more drills. He wasn’t ready to stop yet and pushed harder and harder until he was ready to drop. Yet, they still had to convince him it was time to leave the ice an hour after the rest of the team had.

  Sam woke at one in the morning, agony shooting through his brain. It was worse than the screaming he had been dealing with. This was new, and it was awful. It was so much worse than any pain he’d felt yet. He buried his head in his soft pillow, hoping for comfort. Nothing worked. Careful not to wake Trina, he grabbed the pill bottle from his drawer and swallowed a pain pill.

  It wasn’t working fast enough for him, and the pain was getting worse. His eyes burned and his temples pulsed. He could only assume all the additional activity he’d done this morning at practice was the cause. He overdid it.

  The pain wasn’t letting up. Without much thought other than relieving the pain, he swallowed another pill. He was going to have to smarten up and avoid this problem by taking a pill before morning skate from now on.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Sam

  A dizzy excitement filled Sam’s chest as he walked the halls of the arena. Sure, he’d been here all week for practices, but tonight was different. It was game time. His locker waited for him, stocked from top to bottom with his gear. His jersey screamed to him. He had missed this. The crispness of the air. The odor of the gear. The lingering Zamboni fumes. He loved the last week with his family, but this was where he belonged.

  Being here for workouts or even practices wasn’t the same as getting ready to play. Sure, he skated after his physical exam. And he took practice all week with the guys before this morning. Non-game-day practices were at the team practice facility. But now he was at the arena, and tonight he was getting to play. Finally. I’m back.

  “Check it out. Surfer-boy is back!” Tyler clapped his hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Hey guy, how you feeling? No issues with the morning practices?”

  “Hey, Ty. Yeah, fine. No issues. I’m feeling… good. I’m all good.” This morning he worked with Brownie, the team trainer, for an hour before team practice, as well as in the gym after. He felt good during the on-ice workouts, even doing the physical therapy in the gym. He felt no effects until he tried to sleep. The quiet house amplified the pounding in his brain. Nauseous from the throbbing, a pain pill was his only choice.

  Brownie said he was fine to get back into the game if Rob, the team doc, gave him the go-ahead. He was considered a game-time decision when Coach Walker spoke with the media. After practice, he had to give a urine sample, then he got word that he had the green light for the game tonight, but to keep that under wraps until Coach announced it to the media.

  Once all the guys had arrived and changed, it was time to hit the ice. Sam sat in front of his stall. He gazed around the locker room where the team also sat, taping their sticks, some praying or talking amongst themselves. He was silent while taking it all in. Back where I belong.

  “Yo! Morris!” Luc called from the other side of the locker room. “Ready to get back out there? We’re gonna crush Vancouver tonight! Woot-Woot!” He jumped up and pumped his fist in the air and grunted loudly.

  “Lemme hear a hell yeah!” Patrick joined in, making more noise.

  “Hell yeah!” The Renegades said together.

  “Gentlemen.” Sal knocked on the door, insisting on their attention. “Ready for warm ups?”

  “Let’s do this,” Coach Walker yelled.

  Grabbing their sticks, the men lined up in the hallway, waiting to exit onto the ice surface. Sam could smell the cold air that hit his face and hear the swish of the metal blades on the ice as the visiting team skated around the rink.

  His heart pounded against his chest and his pulse raced. He was ready. Sam was in the middle of the long line of Renegades players who hopped out onto the frozen surface. The home crowd cheered and clapped. His wife and daughter were there to watch his return. Breathing in the roar of the fans, it invigorated him. Metal blades hitting the ice, he tore away from the boards and shot around the rink. I am back.

  The music played loudly as they skated in circles around the ice. The heavy bass pumped, vibrating in his chest. The lights flashed in time with the music. His body numbed as he rounded the ice, stick-handling a puck, then shooting it hard to the net before rounding the boards for another lap.

  Happiness radiated from him. The fans were a blur, and yet he looked to every corner of the seats. The fans packed the arena and were noisy and pumped up. Warm-ups were only a few minutes long but it felt like hours of skating and shooting at the net. What a beautiful sound the loud claps of the puck hitting the boards was. He wasn’t having any effects like the other day. He was good, and he was back.

  Sam found Luc in the sea of Renegades skating around the ice. With a nod, they began racing one another around their end of the ice. The exertion made Sam feel alive. It felt amazing. It was like a natural high. Nothing else made him feel like this.

  Exiting the ice to go back to the locker room, Sam passed Coach Walker and Sal standing outside the locker room with their arms folded across their chests. Rob and Brownie stood beside them.

  Filing back into the locker room, the guys each sat by their stalls. Airing out their helmets and gloves, they mentally prepared for the game ahead. They checked their equipment and adjusted their stick tape and skates. Trash-talking ensued as they got pumped for the game.

  Coach Walker entered the room and gave his pre-game speech and words of inspiration. Sal handed the clipboard to Tyler, who rattled off the names of the guys in the starting lineup.

  Sam wasn’t one of them.

  That’s okay. I’m just coming back. I can’t expect to be placed on the top line. He assumed they’d stick him on the third line just to get his sea legs again.

  “Healthy scratches, Fischer, Briggs, Marshall and Morris.”

  The locker room was quiet, and a few groans were muffled, but still heard.

  Scratched? What the fuck is this shit? Tonight’s supposed to be my return! Sam’s blood boiled. His face stung with heat. He was sure his blood pressure was pushing the limits, because the room began to spin.

  The loud music from the arena poured in through the doors, and the announcer’s voice rattled the room. Time for the team to line up in the hall and make their trek back to the ice. Game time.

  But not for him. Sam didn’t move from his spot on the bench.

  Some of the guys looked over at him with empathetic faces. Others kept their heads down, avoiding his stare. He wasn’t mad at his teammates; he was just mad. There was no good reason for them to keep him out of the game tonight. I’m ready, and they damn well know that!

&
nbsp; Fischer, Briggs and Marshall stripped off their pads and went to get a quick shower before dressing back in their suits and heading to the family room or up to the team suite to watch the game. But Sam didn’t move. He needed to know what was going on.

  “Morris.” Rob nodded his head towards the trainer’s room. “Grab a shower, then meet me in the exam room.” He left the locker room without another word.

  Sam quickly stripped the already sweaty gear off and chucked it all into his locker stall. He took a lightning speed shower and threw on his slacks, barely buttoning up his dress shirt. Still pissed off, his jaw ticked as he gritted his teeth. Standing in the doorway of the empty exam room, he turned to see Rob hurrying down the hallway towards him.

  “Sam, please sit down.” Rob ushered him inside and shut the door.

  “Rob, I don’t want to fucking sit down. I want to be out there playing. So cut the bullshit, and tell me what the fuck is going on!” Sam stood by the door, his arms folded across his chest, and his jaw clenched so hard that his temples throbbed.

  “Sam. Please.” Rob calmly spoke. He looked from Sam to the nearest chair and then back at Sam.

  “Fine.” Sam stretched his now tight neck before sitting down. Not being able to relax, he sat on the edge of the chair, his elbows resting on his knees. His tone was sharper than he planned. “So?”

  Rob sat down across the room. One leg crossed over the other, he sat back in his chair. Rob’s face was twisted in a way Sam had never seen before. He couldn’t decipher what it meant, but it couldn’t be anything good.

  “So we got the results of your urine test from this afternoon.”

  “Yeah? I don’t do drugs, Rob. I know that’s not what kept me out tonight.” His jaw was so tight that his face ached.

  “Sam, you’re not playing tonight and won’t be any time soon. Not until I clear you to do so and you pass another urine test.”