Taking His Shot
Susan Scott Shelley
Copyright 2017 Susan Scott Shelley
ISBN: 978-1-944220-28-0
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Thank You
Acknowledgments
About The Author
Susan's Books
CHAPTER ONE
RAYS FROM THE LATE afternoon sun filtered through the trees, scattering patterns across the backyard and driveway. Dylan Fraser tipped back the beer in his hand, and the cold brew chased away the stress of the day. Sitting on his deck with his family and friends, enjoying the cool breeze that late April brought to the Buffalo suburb, he could almost forget about the responsibilities and worries.
Almost.
But the hockey gear littering the driveway and the Bedlam logo he'd painted onto the deck were reminders of the normalcy he'd been working hard to regain, and that he needed to regain it—fast.
"Dylan?" His brother Rod tapped his shoulder. "You still with us?"
He dragged his gaze away from the blue and white logo. Rod, their sister Kelsey, her fiancé Leo, and Rod's best friend Ben stared at him. "What's up?"
"I asked if you're nervous about your first full-contact practice tomorrow."
His first full-contact practice since he'd been knocked out of the game with a concussion six weeks earlier. Doing the rehab work on and off the ice, even skating with the team and taking practice in a no-contact jersey weren't the same as being in a game situation. "You mean, am I nervous that I'll have another relapse as soon as someone checks me? Yeah, that might have crossed my mind a billion times. You hear about those fluke situations happening. It took me so long to get back to this point. I'd hate to have to start all over again after one shift."
Kelsey reached across the table and patted his hand. "Leo will watch out for you."
Leo nodded and grinned. "If it helps, we can wrap you in bubble wrap."
"Funny."
"It was supposed to be." His line mate shrugged and leaned back in his chair. "We're nervous too. Two bad concussions almost back to back..."
Dylan took another long pull from his bottle. He didn't need or want the reminder of the horrible three weeks he'd missed from his first concussion, and then the six weeks of recovery from the second. "If all goes well, I'll be cleared to play in the next game. Not being on the ice with you guys for the end of the season and the first round of the playoffs sucked."
Leo's smile was equal parts hope and sympathy. "It'll be good to get you back for round two, but your health comes first."
Of course, his health came first. But this season was the season to win the Cup. They'd come close last season, but close didn't count. Forwards, defensemen, and goalies—all of the pieces were in place. The urgency gripped him. Consumed him. It was now or never.
Rod made a comment that Dylan couldn't hear, but Leo tossed his bottle cap at his brother's head. Rod nabbed it in mid-air, complimented his own reflexes, then flung it back at Leo.
Dylan shook his head at their antics. He loved being on the same team as Rod. And even though Leo's hit had caused his first concussion, he'd grown to appreciate him too. The huge player had been acquired by the Bedlam in Dylan's absence and had made their team even stronger. His sister Kelsey and Leo falling in love was an added bonus.
The sliding glass door opened and Ben's son Jacob raced through wearing goalie pads and mask. "I need to practice. Who wants to go one-on-one?"
Ben smiled at his son and then lifted his shoulders and gave the guys seated at the table a guilty grin. "I may have used one of you as a bribe to get him to eat his vegetables last night."
Jacob stopped by Dylan's chair and wrinkled his nose like he'd tasted something awful. "Broccoli."
Laughing, Dylan stood and took the five-year-old by the hand. "All right, buddy. Let's see what you've got."
They walked down to the yard, and Dylan picked up a hockey stick from the grass. Jacob ran to the goalie net at the end of the driveway and went through Rod's tradition of tapping the posts with his stick. He idolized Rod and had insisted on playing his same position from the start.
Pucks and rubber balls lay in a pile. Dylan chose one and lobbed it toward Jacob. The boy blocked it like a pro. As they played, Rod fired up the grill and called out tips to Jacob. And before long, Leo, Kelsey, and Ben came down and grabbed extra sticks.
His sister gestured between Leo and herself. "We'll play defense. Ben, you can help Dylan try to score."
"Try?" Dylan winged a shot past her hip. It sailed over Jacob's head and hit the back of the net. "How about succeed?"
Kelsey crossed the paved surface and stood toe-to-toe with him with the light of competition twinkling in her gaze. "How about a real game? We play to five. Rod," she angled her head to call over Dylan's shoulder, "grab the other net from the garage and get over here. We need you in goal for our side."
They hadn't played, hadn't been able to play, in far too long. Dylan grinned. "Bring it on."
"I'd have to caution against that."
The clear, firm voice, definitely not his brother's, brought Dylan up short. He turned.
Blair Proch
