Chapter 338

Enzo

The clatter of hockey sticks and the distinct screech of skates cutting into the ice enveloped me as Tim and I entered the arena. It was a different vibe than what I was used to back in Mountainview—less polished, maybe a little rougher around the edges—but it was hockey, and that was home enough for me.

“As you can see, we’re already underway,” Tim said, gesturing toward the scrimmage taking place below us. “But I’d like to hear your first impressions. And don’t hold back.”

We found a decent spot to watch from and settled in. For several minutes, I just observed. The team had heart; that much was evident to me. But they also displayed glaring inadequacies.

Their passes were always just a little too long or a little too short, shots were mistimed, and their defensive formation looked more like a scattering of bodies rather than a cohesive unit. It was immediately clear that they had little chemistry on the ice, unlike my team. But it was fixable.

Tim leaned toward me, his eyes fixed on the game but clearly attuned to my reaction. “So, what do you think? Any initial thoughts?”

Taking a deep breath, I considered my words carefully. “They've got potential but they need a lot of work. The passing is inconsistent; they’re either overshooting or hesitating. That’s something we’d need to drill in practice. Also, defensively, they’re reacting rather than anticipating the play. It’s costing them valuable seconds, and in hockey, that’s a lifetime.”

Tim nodded, his face showing no trace of defensiveness, only an open willingness to listen and learn. “I see. Anything else?”

I took a moment to glance over the team once more. “Equipment,” I said. “I noticed some of them are skating on worn-out blades, and a couple of them have sticks that have seen better days. Better gear would improve performance.”

Tim sighed, taking off his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. “I hear you, Enzo. But unfortunately, equipment is a difficult issue. Funding’s always been tight. But you’re right; it’s something we have to work on.”

“Then let’s work on it,” I said, feeling a new sense of resolve forming inside me. “When I come in the fall, I want to hit the ground running. Teams shouldn’t be waiting around for random sponsorships or donations to fix basic issues. They should be proactive, fundraising, volunteering, really connecting with the community.”

Tim looked impressed. “You’re already thinking about fundraising?”

I nodded. “Any team that’s self-sufficient and proactive is automatically better off than one that isn’t.” I paused then, casting another look at the players who still seemed like strangers sharing the ice rather than a unified squad. “And besides, I can tell that their camaraderie is lacking. Fundraising and volunteering isn’t just about money and approval; it’s about building bonds, which can make or break a team.”

At my words, Tim broke into a genuine smile, one that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “You’re going to be a fantastic addition to the team, Enzo. I can feel it.”

Before I could respond, Tim’s phone buzzed insistently in his pocket. “Sorry,” he said with a sigh as he stood, “I’ve got to take this. Why don’t you keep watching? Get a feel for the team dynamics.”

I nodded, watching Tim’s fading form for a few moments before returning my attention to the scrimmage. Already, the gears were turning in my head as to how this team could improve—and how I could be at the helm, guiding them toward the potential I knew they had.

“Enzo, right?”

A voice pulled me out of my reverie, and I turned to see a woman approaching me. She was undoubtedly attractive—blonde hair, piercing blue eyes—but there was an air of professionalism about her. She wore a fitted black jacket and jeans, and shot me a warm smile.

“Yes, that’s me,” I said. “Are you a part of the team?”

She chuckled. “In a way. I’m the team doctor.” she stuck her hand out. “Mila.”

Standing, I took her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mila.”

Her eyes wandered to my hand, settling on the gold band wrapped around my finger. “A young, good-looking guy like you is already taken?” she asked, a hint of something almost teasing in her voice.

I laughed, momentarily taken aback by her directness. “Yes, I’m married. Happily, might I add.”

Mila’s smile morphed into something enigmatic, a strange blend of amusement and intrigue. She tossed a lock of blonde hair over her shoulder and folded her arms across her chest. “Well, I must say, I’d be very curious to meet the woman who captured you.”

Her comment stirred a blend of unease and curiosity in me. It was not the first time women had flirted with me; the combination of athleticism and the sort of ‘celebrity’ status that came with being a hockey player often attracted a certain level of attention.

Yet, something about Mila’s tone—maybe it was its unsettling blend of sincerity and humor—made the moment linger in an uncomfortable way.

But I shook it off. “I’m sure you will get to meet her,” I said. “She’s the team doctor in Mountainview. Perhaps you two could get along.”

Mila nodded, but there was something in her gaze that indicated that she didn’t particularly like my comment.

A silence fell between us as we continued watching the scrimmage. It was then, after having mentioned Nina, that a pang of guilt washed over me; I hadn’t called her since last night, and I knew she wasn’t feeling as well as she let on. I should have checked on her, but I got so caught up in everything that it slipped my mind.

Mila must’ve sensed my sudden detachment because her voice took on a softer tone. “You look like you’ve got a lot on your mind. Anything you want to share with the team doctor?”

I hesitated, grappling with the boundaries of professional and personal disclosure. Finally, I opted for a generalized truth. “Just the future, I guess. There’s a lot happening right now, and I have responsibilities at home, too.”

Mila nodded, and there was that flicker in her eyes again. Not annoyance, but something else… hope, maybe?

“Well,” she said, “if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here. That is, assuming your… wife… is too busy, of course.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket.

“Sorry,” I said, slipping my phone out of my pocket.

Mila’s face tightened. “No worries. It was nice meeting you, Enzo.”

“Yeah,” I said, managing a smile. “You too.”

As Mila walked away, I returned my attention to my phone. The screen displayed a notification for a new voicemail—from Nina. My heart tightened instinctively; she rarely ever left voicemails unless something was up.

I stepped away from the arena, finding a quieter corner to listen to her message. Her voice filled my ears, sweet and soothing as always, but there was something in her tone that I couldn’t quite place. A hesitation, maybe?

“Hey, it’s me. I’m…” There was a long pause. Too long, in fact. Instantly, I felt an unsettling pull in my stomach. Was she okay? “I’m just calling to...uh, check in. I wanted to see how you’re doing. I...I miss you.”

The message ended abruptly, leaving me staring at my phone as if it could offer some explanation. Nina’s usual enthusiasm was oddly absent, replaced by that unexplained pause, that hesitation.

I quickly tapped out a text, my fingers hovering over the send button for a moment before I pushed my doubts aside and hit it. “Hey, just got your voicemail. Sorry, it’s been a little crazy here. Everything okay? You sounded a bit off.”

Almost immediately, my phone buzzed with her reply. “I’m fine, love. Just one of those days, you know? Enjoy your weekend, and you can tell me all about it when you get home.”

“Fine” and “one of those days” were phrases that could mean anything and everything. I’d been married to Nina long enough to know that her “I’m fine” often had multiple interpretations, some far less reassuring than others.

But before I could think of an answer, the scrimmage ended, and Tim waved me down to meet the team.