Chapter 3
The last of the men emptied out of the locker room, more subdued than Sloan had ever seen them. Friday night practice usually ended with the men converging to the closest bar for some down time. An excess of beer and women, then they’d all go home and crash.
But not tonight.
Fist pressed into the bench beneath him, Sloan took a deep, deep breath, fighting the urge to put a hole in the wall and risk breaking his hand again. One game without a goal and they were sending him to the freakin’ farm team?
This had to be some kind of sick joke. With his stats, they couldn’t seriously think they’d do better without him. Could they?
“You’re not as . . . resilient as you used to be, Callahan.” The trainer made a face as though he could taste the bullshit smeared all over his words. “Th
