I don't remember if Bombay taught Logan to skate before or after the gala episode but just pretend it was before
Charlie was ticked off.
To say the least.
He'd been urged by several of his friends to come to Twin City Slice and hangout. It was difficult to be together as a group with everyone's jobs and families and other commitments. It had been years since the whole team had done something. Even now, it was just a handful that were going. He didn't end up going, but it wasn't because he was avoiding anybody-he'd merely been busy. It was a testing week for his students over Macbeth which meant he had hundreds of tests to grade. He could've gotten away for a couple of hours-and it probably would have done him some good than sit at his desk until his eyes were strained and watery-but he'd stubbornly stuck through it to meet his goal of handing them back by the end of the week.
Maybe he should have gone. That way he could have corrected Fulton and his big mouth.
That was the last time they were going out drinking together.
When he said that, about not going because it wasn't like Bombay had been there for them, he didn't mean any of it. It was mostly his loose tongue talking. He'd been hurt. None of them had seen or talked to Bombay in a really long time-not since high school. He just...dropped off the earth. And yeah, it affected him more so than the others. He'd always looked up to his former coach as the father he never had; to have him gone like that was hard to swallow.
He was angry for a long time. A lot of it went directed at himself for thinking that Bombay would stick around. He'd-naively, perhaps-thought that the man would always be around when they needed him. But he wasn't. And that hurt. It was like a knife twisting inside of him. Hearing about the upcoming gala made things even worse, bringing memories from their own Duck days. It was partly why he'd accepted Fulton's invitation to go out drinking with him and Adam. He didn't have to face what he was feeling if he was too smashed to feel anything.
Sometime along the course of the night, he'd admitted everything to his friends in his drunken state. He never thought it would reach Bombay. He also didn't think the man would be going to see the team again, so there was that. Imagine his surprise when Adam told him everything after that not-so-great get together.
"You're lying," Charlie narrowed his eyes.
"I swear I'm not," Adam shook his head. "He was there."
"Right," Charlie scoffed. "He hasn't seen us for years and suddenly, he decides to come?"
"Fulton invited him," Adam disclosed.
"Fulton?" Charlie repeated.
"Apparently, he broke Bombay's window again. On accident. He was working at the time."
Charlie went quiet for a moment. "You mean he actually showed up?"
"Yeah," Adam nodded. "But it was probably a good thing you didn't go."
"Why?" Charlie asked.
"You were right, Charlie...he just doesn't care."
He told Charlie everything. About the gala and Bombay's dismissive attitude towards it; about the excuses he gave for not being there for so long and missing occasions like Guy and Connie's wedding.
Adam was hurt. Charlie could tell. He couldn't blame him. Over the years, his own anger had fizzled out but the dull ache in his chest remained and would probably never fully heal. It was something he had to accept; nothing would be the same as it once was. Bombay was likely out of their lives for good and he just had to get over it.
Sometime later on, Adam let it slip about how Fulton told Bombay what he'd said.
"Wait, what?" Charlie was on alert now. "He told him?"
"Yeah..." Adam looked confused. "Why? What's-"
"I didn't mean it!" Charlie exclaimed. "Not like that...exactly."
"But you said-"
"Crap, Adam. He made it sound like I'm angry at him."
"You were," Adam reminded, eyebrows furrowed.
"Well, yeah but...I don't know," Charlie was frustrated. "I was drunk, dude. I'm not mad anymore. And now I-"
Now he had to fix this. Bombay might not even be interested in seeing him but he had to try. He couldn't let it go and make the man think he hated him or something.
He'd have to explain himself. He'd been telling Adam he was going to do that for the past decade and hadn't gathered up enough courage to actually do it. In a way, he neglected to do so because he knew how deeply it would hurt. Seeing him, remembering everything that happened. He couldn't deal with it. It was easier to push it to the back burner and go on with the life he had now.
Adam and the other Ducks tried to persuade him to join them at the gala. Charlie declined. It had nothing to do with the Bombay situation. He was just really uninterested. Galas weren't really his thing. He'd gone once and was a bit put off by the atmosphere. It was hard to explain. He just didn't like it.
So that night, instead of heading out to the gala to be uncomfortable for a few hours and wear a fake smile for those bunch of cake-eaters, Charlie threw on a hoodie and went out to the Ice Palace. He found out that Bombay owned the place and that was where he was training his new team, the Don't Bothers. He walked across the parking lot, the street lamps shining dimly, hoping the place was still open. It should be. It was just a little over six. To his relief, it was.
Now here to find him?
He saw a blonde boy skating by himself. Charlie stopped to watch. The kid was struggling somewhat to keep a steady balance as he swept across the rink and tried to get the puck into the goal. He tried to go a bit faster, but ended up falling on his face. Charlie winced out of sympathy.
"You okay there?" He called.
The kid lifted his head up, meeting Charlie's eyes. "Oh, uh, yeah. Thanks. I'm fine. Not the first time I've done that."
"I understand," Charlie nodded. "I wasn't very good at first either."
"You play?" The kid asked.
"Used to. I don't have much time anymore."
The kid nodded. "I'm Logan," he introduced himself.
"Charlie," he smiled. "Do you happen to know where Coach Bombay is?"
"Probably in his office," Logan said. "It's upstairs at the end of the hallway."
"Thanks," Charlie said. "Oh, and you keep trying, okay? Trust me, I know how frustrating it is. But you'll get better, I promise."
Logan smiled shyly. "Thanks."
The sound of the puck sliding on the ice returned and now, Charlie turned to find out where this office of Bombay's was. It took him a couple tries but at last, there it was at the end of the hallway just like Logan had told him.
Then came the hesitancy.
He'd thought about this moment-the occurrence when he would finally get the chance to stand face-to-face with his old mentor, old coach.
And the guy who was all but legally his dad.
In all those fantasies, he was confident; he was able to speak his mind and Bombay was receptive to that. It always had a happy ending but this could not be guaranteed.
Suck it up, Conway
The door was cracked open. Light came shining out. His heart rate picked up slightly but he refused to allow that to deter him. Not this time. Not again.
He knocked on the door as he pushed it open further.
Bombay was seated in his chair at his desk, not facing Charlie but rather the large window. He started to turn, mistaking his presence for someone else. "Did you need something, Logan-" He trailed off, looking positively stunned.
Despite being close to forty, Charlie couldn't help but feel quite small as Bombay's eyes roved over him.
"Hey, Coach," was all he said.
"Charlie," Bombay stammered out, slowly rising from his chair.
Words would not come to them easily. Silence fell over them as both opened their mouths but were unable to say what they wanted to.
"I-"
"Uh-"
"I'm sorry," they said simultaneously. It caught them off guard and they both laughed somewhat awkwardly.
"You don't have to apologize," Bombay wore an expression of earnest. "I've been thinking and I really should apologize to you."
Charlie knew why he was saying that. All due to what he'd said-and Fulton's big mouth. "No," he shook his head. "It's not necessary."
"Fulton told me what you said," Bombay was observing him to see his reaction.
Charlie ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I know. That's why I'm here."
Bombay was interested. Curious.
"I didn't mean it," he started and then started over. "I mean-I did but I didn't. Not like that. I was angry. And drunk. Really drunk. Fulton invited me and I really should've stayed home so none of this would happen and that headache was killer..." His voice faded as he caught onto the fact that he was rambling. "Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said it."
"No, no," Bombay put his hands up to stop him. "Charlie, you were right. I haven't been there for you guys. Any of you. I should have."
"It would've been nice," he allowed that remark to slip past. "But I'm not angry. Not anymore."
"You can be angry if you want," Bombay obviously didn't know how to proceed. He must have expected the worst-and maybe, in a way, Charlie had expected something of the sort too. Maybe that was how it should have been. He didn't have it in himself to do it. So much had passed and looking into Bombay's eyes reminded him of a simpler time-a time he would give anything to go back to.
"I don't want to," Charlie disagreed. His eyes lingered on his former coach, a plea within them just for Bombay to get it. He wanted-needed-this all to be over. He needed some semblance of normality; where they saw each other at the very least on some occasion. He couldn't keep doing this. He couldn't be abandoned time and time again, to be reunited briefly only for the cycle to keep going. "I want this to stop, Coach."
"Stop what?" Bombay's expression was challenging yet he was pretending as if he didn't possibly know what Charlie was referring to.
Charlie took a couple steps closer. "I want you to stop pretending you weren't a part of our lives." Bombay shut his eyes. "Connie and Guy were pretty upset you didn't come to their wedding or see their son after he was born. They named him after you, you know."
"They...they did?" Bombay managed to be equally touched and surprised by the gesture.
Charlie nodded. He slid his thumb over his phone, showing Bombay the picture of eight year old Gordon who was swinging at the park and grinning toothily at the camera. "Gordon's a bit of a handful," Charlie remarked. "He's definitely got Connie's attitude."
Bombay sat down at his desk once more, burying his face in his palms. Charlie quietly sat down across from him.
"I'm not going to pretend what you did didn't suck, because it did. But I didn't come here to fight. I don't want to be mad at you anymore. I've done enough of that. Can we just...move on and be like we used to be?"
Bombay pulled his hands away, his eyes looking into Charlie's earnest ones. He managed to smile slightly. "You've really grown up, you know that?"
"You sound like my mom," Charlie made an exaggerated grimace. "Just don't go crying about it, okay?"
"I'll do it in private," Bombay smiled wryly.
"That's all I ask."
Bombay-Gordon leaned back in his chair. "So, why aren't you at the gala?"
Charlie simply raised a brow. "Why aren't you there?"
"I had other things to do," Gordon lied.
"Yeah, you look real busy," Charlie said dryly. "Come on, Gordon. What's the real reason?"
"I didn't want to," Gordon shrugged.
"You're a bit too defensive for supposedly not wanting to," Charlie said.
Gordon narrowed his eyes. "How did you-"
Charlie simply smiled. "I'm a teacher. I notice everything now."
Gordon wore a smile as he let out a huff. "That's fitting," he said. "You being a teacher."
"I guess," it was Charlie's turn to shrug. "I did learn from the best."
"I was just your coach."
"You were a lot more than that," Charlie corrected. He didn't fail to notice how a warm look crossed over Gordon's face and knew those words meant more than he would ever know.
"They didn't invite me."
"What?" Charlie thought he'd heard wrong. What in the actual-
"They didn't invite me," Gordon's voice held the slightest bit of bitterness, mostly sounding resigned.
"That doesn't make any-why wouldn't they invite you?" Charlie sat up straighter, flabbergasted by what he was hearing.
"Apparently, I don't represent the best of the Ducks," Gordon said quietly.
The chair that Charlie had been sitting in scraped backwards on the floor. "How can they say that?" he demanded. "That's stupid!"
"It is what it is, Charlie," Gordon tried to calm him down, frowning. "It doesn't matter. I didn't want to go anyway."
"You're lying," Charlie accused him. "I can tell."
Gordon looked frustrated. "Fine, maybe...maybe I did want to go. But it doesn't matter."
Charlie ignored him. "Do the others know?" Of course they didn't. He remembered what Adam had told him last night when he came over after going to Twin City Slice.
Gordon's eyes lingered on him before admitting, "No."
"Why didn't you tell them?" Charlie couldn't understand. "They think you don't care about the Ducks anymore."
"That's far from the case," Gordon's tone was clipped.
"Then why aren't you saying anything?" Charlie was exasperated.
"Look," Gordon said, "I didn't know how to tell them that I wasn't invited, okay? It was easier to pretend I didn't care. Happy?"
"No," Charlie said, eyebrows furrowed. He was nowhere near happy at the moment. This wasn't right. Gordon was the reason why the Ducks became a team in the first place. They were nothing without him.
And now everyone else believed all that crap that Gordon didn't care-
He had to fix this.
Charlie met Gordon's eyes. "Come with me."
"What?" Gordon was confused.
"We're going."
"Where?' Gordon slowly rose to his feet.
"The gala."
"Charlie," Gordon's face softened. "I told you I'm not invited."
"Then it looks like we're crashing," Charlie said cheerfully on his way out of Gordon's office, calling over his shoulder, "Let's go, Old Man."
Gordon stared until he started to grin, shaking his head and followed Charlie.
/
With Gordon's truck being...crappy, as Charlie so eloquently put it-and Gordon rolling his eyes yet not denying it-they took his car. Logan went along with them. Neither his dad or the aunt they were staying with were home and he told them his dad wouldn't want him being by himself. It was fine with Charlie. He tried making small talk with the kid, who was a bit on the shy side.
"Um," Logan said from the backseat, "where exactly are we going?"
"Some dumb gala," Charlie said dismissively. "But first, we're making a little stop."
"To where?" Gordon narrowed his eyes.
"We need some backup," Charlie said matter-of-factly as he pulled to a stop in front of a small house. "And I know just the Ducks who can help us."
Gordon was perplexed. "What?"
"Get out of the car and come with me," Charlie chuckled. "You too, Logan."
They got out, following Charlie who approached the front door, waltzing right in without knocking.
"Uh, shouldn't we have knocked first?" Logan was unsure.
"Nah," Charlie shook his head. "I know these idiots. They won't mind."
Logan and Gordon exchanged a look.
They heard a loud noise from around the corner. It sounded like something was shot but not by a gun. Rounding the corner, Charlie, who was rather unimpressed by the whole display, saw Peter and Goldberg shooting darts but without the actual darts. They were using a nail gun.
"Are you guys drunk?" He raised his brow.
They turned to him and Goldberg beamed.
"No, this is sober stupidity."
"The best kind," Charlie snorted. "Well, I was going to ask if you two were busy but we all know you're not."
"I had a date," Peter defended himself. "But she canceled so I'm stuck with this idiot." He gestured to which Goldberg nodded.
"Yeah! Wait-hurtful," he said, causing Peter to snort and roll his eyes.
"Get your stuff," Charlie cut in. "You're coming with me."
"To where?" Peter and Goldberg asked simultaneously.
"The gala."
"Why?" Peter looked like that was the last thing he wanted to do.
Charlie opened his mouth to answer but it was at that moment that Goldberg spotted Gordon.
"Holy crap, Coach!" Goldberg screeched and practically lunged at the men, pulling him into a hug. Logan, eyes widening in slight alarm, slid to the side.
Gordon was startled at first. But he then relaxed, laughed and reciprocated. "Good to see you too, Goldberg."
"Don't suffocate him, Goldie," Peter pushed him away. He gave a friendly smile to Gordon. "Hey , Coach."
"Peter," Gordon grinned back, giving him a hug as well. They were at eye-level now. "You look good, man. Taller, too."
"Not by much," Goldberg joked.
"Let's just remember who gets more, Goldberg," Peter snarked.
"Who gets more what?" Logan's voice was soft, laced with confusion. It caused all the men to look at him and then each other.
"More wins," Peter came up with a smooth lie. "We do a lot of gaming."
Logan looked as though he weren't sure if he believed that or not. "Oh."
Goldberg was observing Logan closely. "Well, I know he's not Conway's," he said and then his eyes widened dramatically at Gordon. "Is he yours? Is he your secret kid?"
"No," Gordon said flatly.
Goldberg was hilariously disappointed.
"He's my coach," Logan said, nodding in Gordon's direction. "Oh, and uh, I'm Logan."
"You're coaching again?" Peter was surprised.
"Well-" Gordon started.
"He is," Logan responded for him. "For the Don't Bother's."
"I like the name," Goldberg complimented.
"Hang on," Peter interrupted, "I thought you weren't coaching anymore? I heard-"
"They don't know what they're talking about," Charlie already knew where that was going.
Peter side-eyed him.
"What does this have to do with the gala?" Goldberg asked. "I'm confused."
"How's that different from any other time?" Peter muttered.
Logan quietly laughed.
"I'll explain in the car," Charlie told them. He gestured towards the doorway. "Can we-"
/
Peter and Goldberg had to sit in the backseat with Logan and somehow both ended up in an argument of who was touching who too much. Charlie had to tell them to cool it-and resists the urge to bang his head on the steering wheel.
"So," Gordon cut through the silence that followed briefly, "when did this-" He was referring to Goldberg and Peter's friendship, "happen?"
"Crap, you make it sound like we're dating," Peter groaned.
Goldberg was offended. "I'd be a great boyfriend, thank you very much."
"Not according to Kelsey Meyer."
"You said you'd never bring that up again!" Goldberg's voice went up higher slightly.
"I decided to be like your mom when she says she's proud of you-I lied."
"She doesn't lie to me," Goldberg protested.
"That you know of."
"Anyway," Charlie sighed and decided to answer the question for them. "When Peter moved back to Minneapolis, he ran into Goldberg first and they have this weird friendship thing going."
"We're best friends now," Goldberg informed Gordon. "The rabbit to the carrot; the peanut butter to jelly, the-"
"Goldberg; keep talking and you're going to find your tongue wrapped around your kidney!"
Goldberg immediately shut up.
Gordon laughed, shaking his head. "I've really missed you guys."
"Yeah, we've missed you too, Old Man," Peter lightly hit his shoulder.
"What's this old man, nonsense? I'm not that much older than you guys."
"Aren't you like, sixty now?" Peter started to snicker and then yelped when Gordon reached back to hit his knee. "Ow!"
Charlie looked back in the mirror at Logan. "Sorry you have to put up with these fools."
"I don't mind," Logan said, evidently enjoying what he was seeing.
"Yeah," Goldberg said. "We're cool."
"Goldie, you wouldn't be cool if you lived in Antarctica," Peter rolled his eyes.
Charlie could feel Gordon staring at him out of his peripheral vision. "What?"
"You never told me why you aren't at the gala."
"Like I'd want to be with a bunch of cake-eaters," Charlie scoffed.
"Did you get an invite?" Gordon asked.
"Yeah."
"He threw it away the day he got it," Peter chimed in.
Gordon looked at him questioningly.
"The whole thing is stupid," Charlie tried to squash down the aggravation that was creeping up. "That's not us. That's not the Ducks. We couldn't even afford good gear before you came along and these people are doing galas and their fancy venues and-" He inhaled. "That's not us. It's never been us."
"I know what you mean," Gordon nodded seriously. "I thought the same thing when they started to care more about winning."
"Can't we do something about it?" Peter asked. "We're the Ducks. We should have a say."
"Like they'd listen," Charlie muttered.
"It's not fair," Goldberg said.
There was a murmur of agreement.
"Why aren't you at the gala, Coach?" Peter wondered with a frown.
"You know you can call me Gordon, right?" Gordon chuckled. "I'm not your coach anymore."
"That'd feel too much like calling a teacher by their name," Peter admitted.
"You called Mrs. Hamilton by her name once," Goldberg recalled.
"And got detention," Charlie added.
"Okay, but she hated me anyway," Peter said.
"You never did your work," Charlie said.
"That's besides the point," Peter waved that off.
Gordon waited until they finished and sighed. "I wasn't invited."
Goldberg and Peter exclaimed at the same time. "What?"
"It's crazy, right?" Charlie nodded.
"Why weren't you invited?" Logan spoke up for the first time in a while.
Goldberg and Peter were obviously wondering the same thing.
"Apparently, I don't represent the best of the Ducks."
"So, we're going to prove them wrong," Charlie said with determination.
"How?" Goldberg was clueless.
"...Haven't figured that out yet."
/
"I'm hungry," Goldberg's mouth was practically watering at the food table that was in the corner. He was about to go for it when Peter yanked him by the shirt.
"Stand strong, Goldie. This is enemy territory. No eating the food," Peter ordered.
At that moment, a woman wearing a slim dress with her long hair flowing down her back walked by. Peter's eyes followed.
"Stand strong, Peter," Charlie said dryly. "No flirting with the women."
Peter scowled.
Logan came to stand beside Charlie and Gordon, looking up at Charlie's former coach. "Evan and Mrs. Morrow should be here. He said they would be."
Gordon exhaled. "Yeah, Alex told me."
"Should we go find them?"
Gordon clasped his hands over Logan's shoulders. They were pretty close in height, Charlie idly noticed. "Not yet."
"Should we look for the others?" Peter said.
But Charlie was more focused on the lady that was starting to speak. Next to her was the Ducks' coach that Logan had told them all about; Coach T. He really had a punchable face.
"I'm going up there," he murmured.
"Conway, what are you-and he's going," Peter sighed.
"Charlie!" Gordon hissed. "What are you-"
Charlie maneuvered through the crowd.
"As our head coach, he has led us toward our longest winning streak in team history. He embodies the true spirit of Ducks. And so I'm-"
The lady was caught off guard by his abrupt presence on the stage. Charlie gave her a charming smile before grabbing the microphone, ignoring her gaping. People were staring at him, whispering amongst themselves. He saw his Duck friends, their faces a mixture of surprise and confusion.
He exhaled, glancing at Gordon, Peter, Goldberg and Logan.
"No offense, but this thing sucks," was the first thing he said.
He made most of the crowd gasp.
Gordon snickered.
"Starting off strong," Peter remarked.
"Before we were the Ducks, we were District 5," Charlie gave a grin. "You would've looked at us and thought we were a bunch of losers and you probably would have been right. We didn't have fancy equipment. We'd never won a single game and we couldn't skate to save our lives."
His friends smiled wryly at the memories.
"But then Gordon Bombay came along," Charlie said. "And he was a real jerk in the beginning."
"He hated hockey," Peter said.
"And he didn't like kids," Goldberg finished.
Gordon rolled his eyes but there was no doubt he was amused.
"He wanted us to cheat. He wanted us to win and for a while, we hated him and he hated us right back," Charlie laughed. "But then things changed. We actually started to get along and Gordon learned along the way that winning wasn't everything."
He paced a little, giving a pointed stare at Coach T.
"Along the way, we became the Ducks. Soon enough, we weren't just a hockey team. We were family."
Peter jogged up to the stage, hand reaching out for the microphone. Charlie gave it to him. "I was a jerk as a kid," he said.
Goldberg started to laugh, only for it to die down when he realized no one else was, a fact of which that he received a few stares for. "Oh, we're not laughing...okay."
"I didn't have the best home life," Peter said, shrugging. "And I took that out on everyone else. Some more than others," his eyes flickered to Averman then Goldberg. "The Ducks gave me the family that every kid should have. And it was all thanks to Gordon Bombay."
Goldberg came up as well. Peter grinned and gave him the microphone.
"Gordon Bombay gave me confidence. Without him, I probably would've been scared to catch the puck. Course, I'm not sure I approve of his methods.."
"You survived, Goldberg," Gordon called out. He caused the heads of the other Ducks to swivel in his direction.
Logan shyly came to the stage. Goldberg handed him the microphone proudly.
"I'm not a member of the original Ducks...obviously," he said, running a hand through his hair. "But Coach Bombay didn't just impact them. He impacted me and the others of the Don't Bothers as well. I couldn't skate either. I couldn't make a goal. But he helped me. It took a lot of practice and time but he never complained. Even with the amount of times I took out the goal post."
There was some laughter to this.
Logan gave it back to charlie.
"If you haven't noticed, there's a theme in each one of these stories," Charlie said. " Gordon's done so much, not just for us," he motioned, "but for all the Ducks. We wouldn't have the Ducks if it weren't for him. He made us who we are-which is none of this, by the way," he wrinkled his nose. "Gordon wasn't just our coach. He became so much more than that and if you think we're going to let you disrespect him and have the audacity to say that he doesn't represent the best of the Ducks then you've got another thing coming."
"Yeah, you do!" Goldberg burst out.
"Because ducks fly together," Charlie said. "That's what Gordon told us and he's right. Ducks do fly together. We're family and we don't let anyone get left behind."
"Or forgotten," Peter added.
"So, you can take this back," Charlie handed the microphone back to the lady. "But just know that you'll never see anyone with more Duck spirit than this guy," he nodded at Gordon and the two exhcnaged a warm smile.
/
"We're so sorry," Connie apologized for the umpteetnth time. She pulled Gordon into a bone crushing hug. "We should've known something was up."
"No, no," Gordon said. "You don't have to apologize. It's not like I've made much of an effort to be there for you all."
"You can make up for it now" Futon said.
The others agreed.
"We have a sweet little boy who would love to meet his namesake," Connie said with hope.
"Come on, Bombay. You know you want to," Guy said, nudging him.
Gordon's eyes fell on Charlie, who merely smiled encouragingly. "Yeah, sure," he agreed. "Whenever you're free, text me." He gave Guy his number, who eagerly added it to his phone.
"Hey, Old Man," Charlie had his skates on and grabbed a hockey stick. "Let's play a little three on three. Pick your teammates and let's see what you've got."
Gordon smirked. "You really want everyone to see you lose?"
"Feeling confident, huh?" Charlie said. "We'll see about that. Adam, Peter," he nodded his head.
Gordon laughed. "Get up, Goldberg. You too, Fulton."
"Yes, Coach!" The two men shouted cheerfully.
Logan was at a table with Ken and Averman. Alex and her son, Evan had stopped by. Charlie thought her and Gordon meshed well together, even with how he pretended she was more of a pest than anything. He was grateful that Gordon had a friend in somebody besides them now that Jan and Hans were both gone.
"So, what was Gordon like back than?" Alex asked.
"Well-" Averman said.
"We called him Captain Blood for a short time," Ken said.
Charlie blinked when Gordon suddenly swiped the puck away from him and made his way to his team's goal post. "Gotta be quicker than that, Charlie!"
Adam skated to a stop beside him. "You good?"
Charlie glanced all around him. It was like they'd all never been apart. "Yeah," he grinned. "I'm good."
