Brett
By the time Friday afternoon rolled around, my legs felt like concrete.
Coach had apparently decided that because NHL scouts would be making more appearances over the next few weeks, we all needed to be in “peak condition.” His definition of peak condition apparently involved skating until our lungs burned, then skating some more because someone wasn’t backchecking hard enough.
I peeled my gloves off and tossed them into my stall before dropping onto the wooden bench with a groan.
“I think Coach’s mission in life is to kill us,” Ollie muttered from three lockers down.
Marco snorted. “Nah. If he wanted us dead, he’d make us skate another twenty minutes.”
“Don’t even joke about that.”
Coach walked through the locker room at that exact moment.
“Something funny, Cullen?”
Ollie i
