Darkroom: A Moo U Hockey Romance by Kate Willoughby (reading a book .txt) 📕

“See you.”

After I closed the door behind her, I heard the telltale squeak of Deke’s wheel as he started his nightly marathon.

Squeak squeak squeak squeak…

I knelt in front of his enclosure so he was at eye-level. Even though his short little legs moved too quickly to track, watching him spin that wheel at top speed was hypnotizing.

“I struck out again, buddy.”

Squeak squeak squeak squeak.

“What am I doing wrong? I know she wants it.”

“Spoken like a true asshole,” AJ said, having poked his head out of his bedroom. “I heard Indi leave.”

“Unfortunately.”

“She didn’t break up with you?”

“No.”

“Then, just a reminder, even blue-balled, you’re better off than I am.” He headed for the kitchen. “I’m going to make a grilled cheese. You want one?”

“Shit yeah.” AJ’s grilled cheeses were off the hook.

“Get that tube of slice-and-bake cookies out of the fridge. I want some of those too.”

We both loved slice and bake chocolate chip cookies and sometimes we even just ate the raw dough with spoons. While the oven was preheating, AJ got out the ingredients he needed for the sandwiches: cheese, butter, bread, and his secret ingredients—garlic powder and grated Parmesan. I got out the cutting board and portioned out the cookie dough onto a baking sheet.

“Before she left, Indi and I talked about…my pregame nerves and she said she thought I had something called Imposter Syndrome. Have you heard of that?”

“No. What is it?”

As he slathered butter on the bread then sprinkled the garlic powder and Parmesan on top, I explained what imposterism was.

“Indi’s pretty smart. That sounds exactly like you.”

“It does. The article says that something I could try was to find a mentor who’s gone through something similar and talk to them about it.”

“Easier said than done,” AJ remarked, pressing the bread, butter side down in the hot skillet. It sizzled and almost immediately the aroma of garlic, Parm and butter filled the air.

“Miss Smartypants already found me a potential mentor.” I filled him in about Booth MacDonald as he laid slices of cheese on the bread and then topped each sandwich with the other piece of buttered bread.

“I just…I don’t know if I want this getting around the league. There are like over a thousand players, but it’s still a small community when it comes to things like that. Because if the Dragon organization hears about it…”

He nodded. “Yeah, there goes your spot on the roster.”

“Exactly.”

I put the cookie sheet into the oven and set the timer. AJ flipped the sandwiches to reveal the perfect crispy exterior. Just a few more minutes…

“I think you have to assume that if you asked him to keep it to himself that he would honor that. Only a dick would flap his lips to someone about it after you expressly asked him to keep it quiet. I think you should go for it.”

AJ turned the heat off and delivered the sandwiches to the plates I’d gotten out. We sat down and I took that first glorious bite. The crunchy, cheesy exterior gave way to the melted cheese inside. I burned my mouth but it was worth it.

“AJ, you could quit school right now and get a job as a chef. Swear to God.”

“Don’t think I haven’t thought about it,” he joked. “Especially during finals.”

We ate in silence, just enjoying the piping hot gooey deliciousness of our sandwiches. Talk about comfort food. I actually forgot about my problems for a few minutes, especially when the cookies came out of the oven. But eventually AJ returned to the conversation.

“Have you talked to Coach Keller about all this?”

“Hell no, for exactly the same reason. I don’t want word getting back to the Dragons.”

“Yeah, I get that.” He took another bite. “So, go ahead and try that whole mentor thing. See if MacDonald has anything worthwhile to say. Who knows? Maybe whatever he does before games will work for you too. But if it doesn’t…” He held up a hand. “I know I was the one pushing you to become captain and I stand by that. You’re a great captain. But if wearing the C is putting too much stress on you, dude, maybe you should let it go.”

20

Hudson

I wasn’t kidding when I said the NHL was a tight community and proof of that was how easily I tracked down Booth MacDonald. As it happens, I played hockey with a guy who got drafted by the Barracudas two years ago and was in the middle of his rookie year in San Diego. I just gave him a call and asked if he could let Booth know I’d like his advice on a personal matter. The next day, I got a call from the man himself.

“Mr. MacDonald, thank you for getting back to me.”

“Call me Mac. My pal Booker said you needed to talk to me. What can I do you for?”

I briefly filled him in about my situation—my draft number, the captaincy, my persistent pregame nausea and shit show game performance.

“My girlfriend saw an interview you did that made her think you might have had a similar problem.”

“I did, indeed. How old are you, Hudson?”

“I’m twenty-one.”

“Okay. I was a little younger than you are, but I went through pretty much the same thing. I was on the cusp of my professional career and the pressure just…it got to me. I felt like a fake, like I’d been drafted by mistake. That the scouts just happened to see me on a good day and it was all just luck.”

“It’s the same with me except I feel like I am where I am because of my family, that all anyone sees is my last name.”

“It sucks, doesn’t it?”

“It sucks balls, Mac. My girlfriend said it’s something called Imposter Syndrome.”

“Your girlfriend’s a smart cookie. That’s exactly what it is.”

“She also said that finding a mentor who’s been through the same thing can be helpful.”

“Wait a second. You’re talking about me, right? I’m the mentor you’re