Take the shot

First story of the year! I've been working on a few simultaneously, so I suspect that's why it's' been a bit since I've published something. I started this one about 6 months ago and kept going back to it, adding and revising. I figured it was about time to let it go... so here you are! Thanks for checking my story out. If you've read some of my past stuff, you know I like to wander somewhat, letting the storyline develop honestly. I love sex, but it isn't always the driving factor.

No doubt there will be some spelling and grammar errors. I proofread several times, always finding something else. Hopefully, if you find some, they don't distract from the story.

May this year be better than the last.

Cheers.

C_T

TAKE THE SHOT

CHAPTER I

"Look boys... I don't want to overstate the situation here tonight. No matter what happens, life will go on. The sun will rise, your family will still love you, your future is still yours." Coach paused as he stood in the middle of our dressing room. "There are so many things we can't control in this world, and to some degree, that's including the outcome of this game. BUT... there is one thing you can control. One thing you truly have a say in." The room was dead silent. "How you go out tonight. It's the difference between walking out of here with heads held high or your tails between your legs. It's knowing you left it all on the ice! People don't regret losing boys... they regret knowing they could've tried harder." Coach walked around the room looking us in the eyes. "Regardless of where life takes you, it's moments like this that you'll look back on." He paused and lowered his voice to a whisper. "You owe it to yourself... you owe it to the guy sitting beside you... you owe it to your family and parents who have supported in believed in you all this time."

*KNOCK* *KNOCK*

"Zamboni's coming off coach." The rink attendant stuck his head through the cracked door.

"I'm so proud of this group. You boys are, by far, the best team I've ever been fortunate enough to coach." The guys in the room responded well to that. "Rammer, Kibsy, Tibo, start up front. Gunner, Beaker... you got the fort. You guys ready to write your own history? GRAB YOUR LUNCH PAIL BOYS... IT'S TIME TO GO TO WORK!!"

The group erupted as we high fived our way out of the room and down the narrow corridor leading to the rink. U18 nationals, game 7... overtime. Winner take all... it's the scenario all kids played for on the outdoor rinks, driveways, and side roads. Now the dreams were our reality.

No one expected us to do this well. We were nothing more than a patchwork of triple A players scattered through the northern parts of Ontario and here we were taking the national favorites to overtime. We embraced the underdog culture and never expected more of anyone than we did ourselves. All our hard work got us here and I, Timmothy Bower, wanted nothing more than to put the final nail in the coffin.

Just over seven minutes into our first overtime, we once again found ourselves shorthanded. I'm sure everyone watching this game knew the penalty count was skewed heavily one way, but as coach says, excuses don't win games. Kibsy won the draw in our end and our defenseman tried to ice the puck. He was doubled teamed, one crashing him into the boards while the other robbed him of the puck. Cheech, the defenseman was having a hard time getting up, so I dropped low in support. Number 56 (the best guy on their team and likely the future number one pick into the NHL) paused and dangled looking for a seam to move into or pass. I've watched him enough to know he loves to fake the drive to the net and dish, catching everyone off guard and Mr. hotshot didn't disappoint. He faked a drive into the slot and when our other d-man committed, he sneakily dropped the puck back between his legs to the guy with the big shot. Thanks to my anticipation, I was able to dive on my stomach and poke the puck just before the titanic shot could be made.

Committed to the shot, the big D was off balance and like all those years in ice drills, I jumped back to my feet and raced for the puck. Their other defenseman was hustling to cut off the puck. While Mr. Hotshot was the best player on the ice... I was the fastest. I poked the puck just a bit further past the reach of the last man and was off to the races. A breakaway... shorthanded... in overtime. They say there's moments in your life that seem to play out in slow motion, and this was one of those times. It felt like it took me forever to get over the blueline and made at least 6 different decisions on what I was going to do with the puck. I decided to go with my instincts and let the goalie's reaction be my guide. When I hit the slot, I presented an aggressive head fake, and I watched the goalie freeze. I lifted my left leg, like I was going to take a wrister, but faked, went forehand, backhand causing him to open his legs and there it was in all its glory!

**

It's been three years since that goal. Immediately following that game, my life was one highlight after another, living and basking in the glory of winning a national title like Paul Henderson did in the Summit series all those years ago. But... I was not Paul Henderson. I was Tim Bower. Son of retired NHLer Gregory Bower and two-time Olympic medal winner in figure skating Nathalie Jorgensen. Dad was a 6ft 4 bruiser who had one of the hardest shots and hardest punches. Mom was a pixie at just over 5 feet. Symmetrically beautiful, graceful and strong. By their design I was born to skate. I had a high hockey IQ, as they say, and I'm an incredibly strong, quick skater, but I was more my mom than my dad. I had his temper but none of his size and girth. I was 5ft 7inches, not necessarily small in the real world, but in the hockey universe it was the one hurdle I could never clear. I hadn't grown an inch since my late puberty and despite my skill and speed I went undrafted. Not the end of the world but everywhere I went, no one could ever tell me what I needed to work on. I had heart, skill, tenacity... just no size. You can't teach someone to get bigger.

I spent the next three years travelling to training camps and invites. I always seemed to impress but the offers never came. I even tried scrapping, trying to make a name for myself that way, but people kept trying to veer me away from that kind of play because... apparently, I was too good for that. My parents were always supportive and even though I felt like I was disappointing my dad, he never showed it. He would always joke that with his size and my skill and speed, we would've been a shoe in for the hall of fame.

I was just shy of my 20^th birthday when I was invited to the Indy Fuels last camp. Located in Indianapolis, Indiana, with a population just under 2 million, the fuel was part of the ECHL which was the farm team for the Rockford Icehogs (AHL), who were the immediate farm team to the Chicago Blackhawks. In other words, it was the training ground for advancement, but I was late to the table.

The Fuel were typically a middle of the road kind of team. Some years they make the playoffs and some years they don't. While they've never been crowned champs, they also never had the distinction of finishing last. It was the last week of August and I found myself getting a ride to the airport with my family.

My mom and younger sister were a pair of waterworks at the airport the day I was leaving. Martha or M as I call her, had been my sidekick from the day she could walk. My shadow, my target practice, my biggest fan and truly my best friend. She just turned 16 a few months ago and had just gotten her beginner's license.

"Thanks for not getting us killed on the way over M." I teased her.

"Just be thankful mom and dad we're in the car, I thought about driving into the oncoming lane a few times just so I wouldn't have to hear your stupid voice anymore." She shot back.

Her sarcastic smile faded as I came in for my hug. "I love you M. Be a good girl and don't drive mom and dad too crazy while I'm gone." I could hear her sniffling.

"And don't knock up some sex crazy puck bunny... I'm too young to be called auntie." She countered only in a way my sister could. We both chuckled as I squeezed her tight.

Next was mom and she was not hiding her emotions at all. "We're so proud of you Tim! We know you'll be great. Play hard but live and have fun too." She whispered into my shoulders.

I knew she was going to take one more shot at it. My mom has been upset with my disinterest in finding a girlfriend since I broke up with my high school sweetheart... she says I'm married to hockey and hockey won't give her grand babies. "I promise mom. I mean I promise to try, no guarantees."

She pulled back and tapped my cheek twice. "I'll take it." She smiled through her tears.

"Ok sweetheart, the boy's going to miss his flight!" My dad's booming voice budded in. "Remember that Chicky will meet you at the airport and introduce you to your coach and billet." I nodded. Chicky was assistant manager to the Fuel and an old teammate of my dad. Cue the arm wrestle handshake and back slap 'bro handshake'. "Give em hell kid! We all believe in you!"

I gave my family one last wave before crossing through security and was overwhelmed with excitement and loss. A little more subdued, I went through the motions of line ups and pat downs until I was in my seat and about to take my biggest step as a young adult.

Chapter II

I awoke as the pilot announced our final dissent. My neck was killing me, and my mouth was as dry as an old sock. I quickly searched for my gum. I didn't want my bad breath to be the first thing they noticed about me. I waited until the plane was almost empty, before I headed to the exit. I never understood why everyone was in a rush to get off only to be stuck waiting for luggage like the rest of us. I followed the crowd hoping they knew where they were going and exhaled a sigh of relief when we approached the luggage carousels. Rounding up a wheeled caddy, I waited for my two bags, hockey equipment and sticks. Once acquiring all that was mine, I headed towards the sliding doors and hopefully my dad's buddy, Chicky.

"Tim!" I heard my name called out. "Tim Bower?" I could see a tall, balding man waving me in his direction. Assuming this was Chicky, I made my way towards him, and he made the effort to meet me halfway.

"Chicky?" I asked.

The large man let out a smile. "I haven't heard that name in ages." He laughed. "Ben Chicorli. You're a spitting image of your mother that's for sure."

"Is that how you picked me out of the crowd?" I was curious.

"That and... well." He pointed to my hockey gear on the trolley.

The drive from the airport was longer than I'd expected, and the sun was slowing making its way to bed. The city was lit up in that orange glow just before sunset. It gave me a good feeling. The drive gave me time to ask questions about the team, the coach and expectations. Chicky was a straight shooter and said it was my dad's call that got me my shot. I was a little late coming to the camp, but not all the decisions had been made yet. It sounded like I was up against a small group of rookies for one of the few spots as a forward. There were no farm teams, so my options were simple. Make the team or go home... although it's not uncommon for teams lower in standing to grab last minute cuts from the better teams.

"I'll introduce you to Gus, the head coach tomorrow. Right now, I'm taking you to Ms. Thompson's place, she'll be your billet. Annet was gracious enough to open her home for us. Until yesterday, you were going to be in my garage until a billet opened." He chuckled. "You'll find Annet knows more about hockey than most so don't insult her intelligence, she's smarter than most coaches and very perceptive. She's from a hockey family herself and knows what the sport's about. Oh, and one last thing... don't stare at her."

"Why? She covered in warts or something?"

"Yeah... something like that." His snicker piqued my curiosity.

In short, we turned into a residential area that looked like any neighborhood back home, save for the larger, grander structures. Many of them were three stories, with peaked roofs, balconies and large picture windows.

"So, I'll be picking you up for the first week and dropping you off. After that, hopefully Annet will have taught you how the transit system works. I'd wait to buy a car as you never know how long you will be here. Your billet status is good for 4 months, after that you either have to renegotiate with the team and Annet or maybe move in with a couple of the other players. Most guys room share a house with other players. You can leave your billet sooner if you feel the need to."

Now I was really curious about this woman. Sounded like she was hideous or nasty. I shook the thoughts from my head. Those were later issues... right now I had one goal and that was making the team. The rest will fall in place afterward. I can just put my head down and suffer the next 4 months if need be. I planned to be working out when not at the rink anyway.

"Here we are." He signaled into a narrow drive. The driveway seemed too tiny for such a huge home. "Not many people around here drive. They either walk or use transit." It was like he read my mind.

As we pulled the last of my gear from the trunk, I could hear someone approaching and Chicky spoke up. "Ms. Thompson... always a pleasure. Let me introduce our newest recruit, Timothy Bower."

I came around the trunk prepared for the disaster I was set up with only to be stopped in my tracks by a very beautiful woman. Long flowing dark hair, brown eyes and thick lips like Angelia Joelie. Her figure was svelte but packed tight as her large breasts threatened to rip the fabric of her skintight brown sweater and her hips were hugged tightly by rust leggings. She looked like a super model!

"Ahhh..uh... I'm... uh..." Friggen mouth wouldn't work!

"Tim this is Annet. Please say hello to the nice lady and pick your chin up off the ground."

"So very nice to meet you, Timothy. You must be hungry from your day. Let's get your stuff upstairs and we can all have some lovely stew. Will you be joining us Mr. Chicorli?"

"I'd love to Annet, but I have been away from the family long enough. Can I leave him in your capable hands?"

"Of course... I'll be gentle."

*Did she just wink at me?*

My room was on the second floor and was plenty big for all my junk. The hockey gear would be staying at the rink, so I was going to have even more space. Just down the hall was a large 4-piece bathroom and at the other end another large room, but it seemed empty.

"You like, Timothy?" Her soft voice came from behind me.

"It's amazing actually. I didn't expect... well this." I winced at my choice of words.

"You expected squalor and leaky roofs?" Her voice was coated with curiosity and sarcasm.

"I'm sorry. I honestly had no idea what to expect. Please pardon my ignorance."

She smiled sweetly at me. "You'll find I'm full of surprises. Now come downstairs for some stew."

I followed her down the stairs and into the dining area... yeah, I was checking out her ass. I chuckled to myself thinking my mom would be happy that I was even looking. The fact that she was likely 10-15 years older than me made my lecherous thoughts rather ridiculous, but I can't control my young brain.

"Please sit and I will bring you a serving." She continued into the kitchen.

I looked around the bright room and could see many pictures along the walls. Some pictures were what I assumed as family, but there were several hockey pictures as well. Mostly amateur close ups of guys in game action.

"Ah, you see some of my boys." She startled me as I was snooping. "I've billeted many over the years and most I became very close with. Like my own, some of them."

I felt a tingle down my back when she said like my own... I don't know why. "Who are these other pictures of?" I asked.

"Mostly friends and family." She could see me looking at one in particular. It was a candid shot of a blonde girl. She looked to be around my age and was beautiful in many of the same ways as my host.

"Is this your daughter?" I pointed to the beauty in question.

Her smile was appreciative and sad at the same time. "No... Inga is not my daughter. I'm not able to have children of my own, but my niece Inga is the closest I have. She moved out here shortly after she finished her schooling to pursue her dreams. She lived with me for 5 years, but alas she has grown to be self-sufficient."

"What was she pursuing?" I turned to face Annet.

She seemed to think about her answer before she spoke. "Public relations mostly."

I nodded my head and sat at the table where she had placed a generous bowl of stew that smelt amazing. She also brought a small basket with fresh buns and a tall glass of milk. I looked at her as she had no food for herself.

"It's too late for me to eat. I hope you don't mind eating by yourself?"

I nodded. "I understand. Thank you for making this for me." I took a bite and my eyes rolled in pleasure. "Wow! That's really good! Better than my mom's!"

She flushed a little and smiled. "Well, that needs to be a secret you take to your grave young man." She wagged her finger at me jokingly.

"So, you billeted before? Chicky made it sound like this was your first time."

"Chicky? Oh gosh that's adorable! I'll be sure to use that next time he's around." Her smile was bright and alluring. "It's my first time billeting here. I was in Florida for 10 years and billeted young men there, but..." Her face lost her softness. "It was just time to move on." She finished.

I slowly ate the incredible meal as Annet gave me a brief history of her life. How her father coached in the AHL. She and her brother played hockey of course, but she gave it up when she turned 13, while her brother bounced around the minors for many years. Hockey was in her DNA as she put it. With a little more prodding I found out she was single. Almost got married a few years back but things blew up. I assumed that was part of the reason why she left Florida, but I didn't want to pry. Her voice was melodic and smooth. I could listen to her talk all day long.

"Well, I've jibber jabbered enough. There's more on the stove if you would like seconds. Just put your dishes in the sink and I will clean up in the morning. Remember that... Chicky... Mr. Chicorli, will be here 8am. Do you like breakfast when you get up?"

"I usually eat light, being so early for my system... maybe just some juice and toast?"

"Juice and toast it will be Timothy. Sleep well."

She made a graceful exit, and I could hear her humming down the hall, to where her master bedroom was located. The stew was amazing, and I did help myself for a small second portion. I tidied up my dishes and put them in the dish strainer to the side and wiped everything down, my mom taught me right. Besides, if I could make things easier for Ms. Thompson, I'd be more than happy to do it.

After some light unpacking, I texted my family to let them know I was here, and everything was better than I expected. I checked some hockey scores and highlights, thankfully exhaustion kicked in and I dozed off in my very comfortable bed.

My sleep was restless that night. Maybe it was the travel, nerves, new bed... whatever the reason I could count the time I actually slept in minutes versus hours. Annet was my savior. Not only did she make me my breakfast and a coffee to go, but she also came to my room when she didn't hear me moving around. The alarm on my phone was working just fine, I just hadn't heard a thing. She gently woke me up and politely lit a fire under my ass to get me moving and thankfully I was ready when Chicky arrived.