Elliot gives her a nudge. “I’ll try.”
He doesn’t let her help clean up the kitchen later, because it’s his mess and if his mom taught him one thing it was that he had to clean up his own messes. He wasn’t always good at it, still isn’t good at it sometimes, but he needs to do one thing right today. He asks Natalie to pick a movie and digs up some ice cream for them instead. Elliot is pretty sure that it’s Adam’s; he’ll buy him a new one tomorrow. Maybe he’ll get him two. Adam had to deal with his shitty mood this morning, so he deserves them.
Natalie curls against him on the couch and Elliot starts to slowly get his shit back together. The kitchen is clean, he can close his eyes now, and he’ll figure things out with Blake somehow. Not right now, not at any point in the near future, because the season is about to start and he doesn’t need this kind of distraction and he doesn’t know how to stop being angry yet, but somehow…
He eventually falls asleep, head on Natalie’s shoulder, so he at least gets a good ending to a shitty day.
#
The season doesn’t start well for Blake. He’s doing fine in the preseason, but once the Knights give him the nod and he gets to start in net in the second half of back-to-back games, he somehow can’t get it together. The D kind of leaves him hanging, too, the guys tired from the night before.
When Blake lets in the third goal within ten minutes, Coach Franklin pulls him.
It’s a mercy.
Mattie gives him a tap with his stick as Blake heads to the bench. He can’t decide if he wants to smash something or cry, so he sits down in the spot that Mattie just vacated and pulls his baseball cap down low so no one can see his face. He gets a pat on the back from one of the assistant coaches and that makes his mood even worse.
During the first intermission, Coach Franklin is poking his finger in every direction, yelling at them to get off their asses and start playing. They’re down 5-0 and they still have forty minutes left to play, but it would be a mighty comeback and they all know it. The least they can do is break the shutout. Blake tries to disappear because half of that score is basically his fault, terrible defense or not.
The game ends with a score of 7-2, the team quiet on their way into the locker room. Blake tries to look at absolutely no one, but still has to talk to the media. The first question he gets thrown his way is how he felt when he got pulled.
“Not too great,” Blake says. What the hell kind of question even is that?
“Do you feel like you got pulled too early?”
Blake looks up at the face of the reporter who’s implying that Blake is in a position where he has any choice whatsoever in when he gets pulled by his coach. “I feel like Coach Franklin did what he felt would give us a chance to win this game.”
It goes on and on like that and once the crowd of reporters finally disperses, Blake wants to curl up on the floor and never move again. He’ll stay here until the next game. Which he’ll be spending on the bench. And then they’ll send him down again. Because he wasn’t ready for the NHL after all.
“Hey.”
Blake looks up and finds their captain hovering over him. Brian Kelly is a huge dude, only 28, doesn’t look old, but still somehow like he already has 50 years of NHL experience on his back.
“Hey,” Blake says, and even that sounds defeated.
“Not your fault, kid.”
“I–”
“We left you hanging,” Kells goes on. “We’ll do better next time, all right?”
“All right,” Blake says.
Doesn’t mean that Blake didn’t fuck up out there, but he appreciates it nonetheless. Being a goalie, people tend to either give you too much credit or unload all the blame on you. Kells ruffles his hair and then wanders away, patting backs on his way to the shower.
Blake stays in the shower way too long, is still in there when all the other guys are done. He belatedly remembers that Mattie gave him a ride to the arena and is waiting for him out there, probably tired because he had to play two nights in a row, both of which is Blake’s fault.
Mattie is indeed sitting in his stall, fully dressed, most of the guys already heading out.
“Sorry,” Blake mutters and gets dressed as quickly as he can, keeping his head down.
Mattie doesn’t talk on the way to the car, doesn’t talk as they get in, doesn’t talk as they leave the parking garage. Blake should apologize, but doesn’t know how, and while he chews on that, Mattie seems to remember how to talk.
“I’m not really sure what to say to you and I’m thinking about what would have made me feel better when I was your age and got pulled during my first start of the season and I… I got nothing.”
Blake sighs. “I’m sorry.”
“No, listen, we all got bad nights and you didn’t stand a chance with the first one and you were kinda alone out there for the other two, so I can promise you that no one’s blaming you. Hell, no one would be blaming you if all three of them were your fault.”
Blake has a hard time believing that, but he nods anyway.
“There’s always the next game and the next and you’re still growing, you’re at the very beginning of this and not every game’s going to be a win, but you know that already.”
“Yeah, but…”
“No, I get it. I’ve been there.
