*Disclaimer: I started this story at the beginning of the summer, before the tragedies with Locomotive and the drug/alcohol related deaths/suicides of NHLers and struggled with whether or not i should continue and post it. I decided to go ahead because i really like the story. I hope nobody is offended by the story line or my decision to do so. This story is based on my own knowledge of the KHL and struggles of hockey players. I hope you like it!

Chapter One

Dear Diary,

It's days like this when I wish I had picked up the gun in Charlie's hands and shot myself too… there is no two ways about it, that bastard left me in hell. His sister is out of control and his dad can barely put together a sentence. If his brothers were worth anything or had a pair of balls between them, they would say something to her. Sometimes I think I should just give up, sell my portion of the school and leave. Nobody wants me here anyway. The only reason I'm here is to act like everything is okay, not freak out the clients and lets face it, most of them are still only coming to this god forsaken place to support me and keep Charlie's memory alive…

"Elizabeth! Did you get those rooms set up? Where are you?" I hear Angie, Charlie's sister, screaming down the hall.

"I'm almost done! I just needed a break! I'll finish in a sec!" I yell back at her. My therapist says that whenever I have thoughts like this, I should write it down and write down what made me feel that way. I hate writing it down, it makes me feel unprotected. I have exuded a lot of energy into creating a tough exterior and this goes against every instinct I have at protecting that.

"Jesus Christ Liz! Get on with it!" She pops her head around the corner of the East wing common room and stands like a 1950's housewife with her hands on her hips. She's the same age as me and tries to act like my mom, it's so unbelievably frustrating, I want to scream.

"I said I would do it… I'll do it!" I offer back sternly. I am clearly not in the mood for her crap.

"Seriously, sometimes I think you don't give a rat's ass about this place! We have a full house coming in and I need you to pull your weight around here!"

"Don't pull that shit on me! You know I love this place! This is all I have left of him!"

"Then maybe you should act like it. I can't be the only one doing any work." Funny, cause I was wondering what she actually did around here, other then answer the phone and flirt with the hockey players that pass through.

"Just get out of my face," I hiss and stomp off. Back to changing sheets. Bad economy and increased competition equals cut backs, even when you main clientele is millionaire hockey players, meaning we had to let go of our cleaning lady. Guess whose job that became? I'll give you one guess.

I hate changing sheets of teenage boys. Our last session here at the Charles Ross Pro Hockey Training School was a major junior team looking to do some off season training, team building and fitness testing. Twenty eight boys, in twenty eight beds means a lot of knuckle children to peel off these poor unfortunate mattresses. So gross. Needless to say, I wear rubber gloves to change sheets. Industrial strength.

Our upcoming session should be much better. It's a conditioning camp for pro's. Basically a collection of my deceased husband's friends, from a variety of leagues, come in to re-learn how to skate after too much beer and golf in the off season. When they aren't working out, they are sitting around telling stories about Charlie and reminiscing about the 'good times'. The good times being basically all the times before he went to Afghanistan and came back with PTSD and shot himself in the face. Nobody talks about that. It's the giant elephant in the room. It's an emotional week for me, to say the least.

*buzz*buzz*

I reach into my pocket and pull out my ringing cell phone. Good thing it's on silent or Angie would be in here yelling at me some more. I think she went down to the office where she pretends to work but I know she is just catching up on TMZ.

"Hey Jamie. What's goin' on?" I greet one of Charlie's old junior teammates.

"Hey, Lizzie. Not much. How are you?" I hear on the other end.

"I'm… I'm good," I respond with a lie. I know nobody really wants to know how I am doing. Angie is always telling me to act happy and like things are going great because athletes don't want to be around someone miserable.

"That's great, that's really good to hear." I wait through the awkward pause on the other end of the phone. "Listen, the reason I'm calling is that, I'm coming up for a session tomorrow…"

"Oh yeah? That's great! It'll be good to see you," I respond happily just like I am told to. It's not hard. Jamie is one of the good guys. Sometimes I actually think he cares.

"Yeah, you too. I can't wait for some of your cooking," Jamie laughs. He has a warm laugh and I always had a little crush on him. But of course, I was Charlie's girl from day one and you don't mess around with your teammate's girl.

"Any special requests?" I ask.

"I love everything you make, you know that," He offers and I can practically see his smile through the phone.

"Okay, well if you think of something, I am finishing the menu tonight and shopping tomorrow, so don't be afraid to call or text or whatever… what time do you get in?"

"Um, I think my flight leaves Pearson at 10 but there might be a change in plans and that's kinda the reason I'm calling…"

"Oh? What's up?" I tuck the phone between my shoulder and my ear and peel back a set of sheets, that make a kind of cracking noise as they come up off the bed. I have to muffle the sound of my gagging, so Jamie can't hear. I don't think guys want to think about what other guys did in the bed before them.

"I gotta teammate," He begins.

"You got traded didn't you?" It's so hard to keep up sometimes.

"Yeah, to Pittsburgh…"

"Right, right… how's that goin'?" I drop the sheets into the laundry basket in the middle of the room and move onto the room's second bed.

"It's good, real great… well not so much this year, but it will be - next year…" I can hear the hesitation in Jamie's voice replaced by determination and confidence. "Anyways, I gotta teammate that wants to join me tomorrow and I was just wondering if you guys have room in the session or if you could maybe squeeze one more in?"

"Well, I don't handle the bookings but I am sure that we can make room. I could go talk to Angie…" I accidentally let out a low groan at the mention of her name.

"Do you want me to call her? I can probably dig up the number here somewhere," Jamie offers, picking up my hesitation.

"If you don't mind… it might be easier then me finding her around here. And I've got a lot to do…" I look ominously at the over flowing laundry basket.

"Sure I don't mind. I guess I'll see you tomorrow one way or another," He offers before we say our good bye's. I know the guys just come to be nice but sometimes I imagine me not being here, so they don't have to.

-.-

"AHHHHHHHHHHH!"

"Oh my god! What's wrong? Are you okay? Is it Dad, what's going on?" I rush down the hall from the laundry room to the office. Angie is sitting behind the large desk gripping the sides of the desk. It looks like she can't breathe. That would be a shame…

"Sidney… fucking… Crosby…" She offers gasping for air between each word.

"Is a really good hockey player…" I offer with a laugh. Did I just interrupt an orgasm? Was she watching Sidney Crosby porn? Should I leave her alone to finish up? I am not changing her sheets…

"Um yeah! And he's coming HERE!" She screams at me, as she jumps to her feet.

"What?" I am floored.

"Tomorrow! With James! They are team mates you know!" Angie rolls her eyes at me, as if I was somehow supposed to have read her mind.

"Yeah, I guess… it never actually occurred to me…"

"It never OCCURRED to you? It never occurred to you? That's why you could never run this place! You don't know how to market! You need to pay attention to things like that! You should have been on it! You should have called James the second he was traded and extended the invitation!" Right, because what I want is to guilt more guys into coming to this shit hole. Charlie would roll over in his grave if he saw the condition it was in. He worked his whole life to save this school – and his sister is letting it fall apart. He would be far too embarrassed to bring his buddies here given the conditions, never mind a star athlete like Sidney Crosby.

"If it wasn't for me nobody would be coming here anymore, so don't tell me what to do!"

"I will tell you what to do because I own just as much of this place as you do and unlike you, I am doing something!" Angie spit out. "Oh my God, if we could get an endorsement from an athlete like that… we would be set!"

An endorsement? From Sidney Crosby? Yeah, that would be amazing, but I wouldn't hold my breath. Angie began explaining the new room arrangements that would have to be made, moving some of the guys out to the cabins and reorganizing the main building so Crosby could have some personal space. She didn't want some of the 'lesser' players to cramp him and harass him for autographs.

"I wouldn't worry about that…" I tried to explain. "Hockey players aren't like that. They'll probably leave him alone and treat him like everyone else. And I doubt Crosby would want you going to all the trouble of changing all the plans…"

"Jesus Liz! The guys a superstar! He expects a certain level of accommodation and this school is going to provide that!"

"Fine whatever… I'm just saying…"

"Well don't just say! Go and do!" Angie barked her father's famous orders. I used to laugh every time Charlie's dad would yell it but now I find myself grinding my teeth in frustration. "And Elizabeth? Don't fuck this up!"