Ice & Prejudice

Chapter 18

Nik's POV:

The sounds of skates slicing the ice, pucks slapping against sticks, and the occasional barked order from Coach Gibson filled the arena. It was a typical afternoon practice, but for me, it was more than that. This was my sanctuary, my place to clear my head and focus on what I did best.

"Alright, Wolves, let's see some hustle!" Coach Gibson yelled from the sidelines, his voice carrying across the rink. "We're running the breakouts again. Noah, you're up first!"

I caught Noah's eye and nodded. He was one of the most reliable guys on the team, quick on his feet and sharp with the puck. He was the kind of player who made everyone else better just by being on the ice.

"Ready, Nik?" Noah asked, his breath visible in the cold air.

"Always," I replied, slamming my stick on the ice. "Let's do this."

Noah took the faceoff, winning it cleanly and sending the puck my way. I received it on my backhand, flipping it to Dickie, who was already flying down the right side. Dickie wasn't the biggest guy on the team, but what he lacked in size, he made up for with sheer tenacity. He dodged a defender, then another, before passing it back to me just as I crossed the blue line.

"Harv, move it!" I shouted, and Harvey did just that, positioning himself perfectly in front of the net.

I fired a quick shot at the goalie's glove side, and Harvey tipped it in, sending the puck flying into the back of the net. The buzzer blared, signaling a goal, and the guys on the bench cheered.

"Hell yeah!" Dickie shouted, skating over to give me a high five. "That's how we do it!"

Coach Gibson blew his whistle, calling us back to center ice. "Nice play, but don't get cocky! Run it again, but this time, I want to see tighter coverage on the back end. Martinez, Wolves, make sure you're communicating. Let's go!"

We ran the drill again, then again, each time faster and more precise. As captain, it was my job to set the pace, to make sure everyone was pushing themselves to their limits. But it wasn't just about leading by example. It was about knowing when to push the guys and when to let them breathe. Knowing when to call someone out and when to give them a pat on the back. That balance was what made a good captain. At least, that's what Coach Gibson always drilled into me.

"Good work, boys," Coach finally said after what felt like the hundredth breakout drill. "Let's wrap it up with some sprints, and then hit the showers."

The team groaned collectively, but I couldn't help but smile. Sprints were where you separated the men from the boys. I lined up with the rest of the guys, crouching low and waiting for Coach's whistle.

"Ready... Go!"

We took off, skating as hard and fast as we could. I pushed my legs to their limit, feeling the burn in my thighs and calves as I surged ahead. Noah was right on my tail, and I could hear Harvey breathing hard to my left. By the time we reached the far boards and turned back, my lungs were on fire, but I didn't let up. This was what it was all about. Giving everything you had, every time you stepped on the ice.

When we finally finished, the guys were bent over, hands on knees, catching their breath. Coach Gibson blew his whistle one last time, signaling the end of practice.

"Good hustle, fellas," he said, nodding his approval. "Hit the showers, now."

I led the team off the ice, heading into the locker room. The place was buzzing with the usual post-practice banter. Dickie was cracking jokes about how slow Harvey was during sprints, and Noah was already talking about some new move he wanted to try in the next game.