The fifth book in the Chinooks Hockey Team series, 2010

Just because a man was lucky to be alive, didn’t mean he mean he had to be happy about it.

“Last night, your hockey team won the Stanley Cup without you, how do you feel about that?”

Former NHL superstar and all-around badass Mark Bressler looked beyond the bank of microphones and wall of cameras to the dozen or so reporters filling the media room inside the Key Arena. He’d played for Seattle the past eight years, been the captain for the last six years. He’d worked for most of his life to hold the Stanley Cup over his head and feel the cold silver in his hands. He’d lived and breathed hockey since he’d laced up his first pair of skates. He’d left his blood on the ice and broken more bones than he could recall. Professional hockey was all he knew. All that he was, but last night his team won without him. He’d watched from his living room as the rotten bastards skated around with his cup. How in the hell did everyone think he felt? “Of course I wish I could have been there with the boys, but I’m thrilled for them. One-hundred-percent thrilled.”

“After your accident six months ago, the man sitting next to you was hired to fill your shoes,” a reporter said, referring to the veteran hockey player, Ty Savage, who’d replaced Mark as the Chinooks’ captain. “At the time, it was a controversial decision. What were your thoughts when you heard that Savage would take over?”

It was no secret that he and Savage didn’t like each other. The last time Mark remembered being this close to the man, he’d faced off with him during the regular season. He’d called Savage an overrated prima donna asshole. Savage had called him a second-rate wannabe pussy. Just another day at the office. “I was in a coma when Savage was signed. I don’t believe I had ‘thoughts’ about anything. At least none that I recall.”