Here We Go Again (Georgia Jaguars Hockey #2)

Chapter 1

BECCA

It’s just like me to put too much trust in a list of rules.

I could argue it’s a product of my work life—in an operating room, rules keep doctors safe and patients alive—but the honest truth is that I was like this long before I became a scrub nurse.

Even when I was a little girl, I loved the satisfaction of ticking off each little checkbox on my list of chores.

Order, structure, protocol. That’s how I function best.

Which is why, when my cousin, Indigo, offered me her place in Atlanta for six months of rent-free house sitting, it didn’t even occur to me to say no.

There was no reason I couldn’t pick up a travel nursing contract at one of the many, many hospitals in the area, do my own thing, and completely ignore the fact that somewhere in the vast metropolis, my high school boyfriend was living out his childhood dreams as an NHL defenseman for the Georgia Jaguars.

I’ve had eight years of practice following the rules I set up for myself:

Don’t follow his social media accounts.

Don’t look up his team.

Stay away from anything even remotely related to hockey.

Easy.

Ha. Bless my sweet little naive heart. My rules were nowhere near enough for this move.

I step out of the coffee shop on the corner and climb into the car waiting by the curb. I hand my best friend, Mia, her iced latte.

“Thank you very much,” she says. She takes a quick sip before dropping it into the cup holder in the center console, then she turns on her blinker, waiting for traffic to clear so she can drive us the few remaining blocks to the hospital.

Technically, Mia is driving my car, the same Honda Civic I’ve had since high school, but she likes to drive in the morning.

I’m happy to let her since she wakes up chipper and ready for the day, and I don’t fully trust myself to be coherent until at least an hour after I’ve had a little caffeine.

The hospital is a walkable distance from the condo, but we’ve been using the car more lately.

Mostly because late July in Atlanta is miserable.

The heat and humidity are enough to make us melt, even at six in the morning when we’re usually heading in for our shifts.

“Did you notice the new billboard?” Mia asks as I pop off the lid of my cappuccino to let it cool.

I follow her gaze to the enormous Georgia Jaguars billboard on the opposite side of the street.

“Seriously?” I mutter. Yesterday, the billboard was a stylized jaguar, crouched like it was ready to pounce on a puck hovering above the words Game On. Subtle, eye-catching, totally benign.

Now, the billboard has been updated to feature a couple of players. I don’t know how many guys are on a professional hockey team. Twenty? Twenty-five? So what are the odds the two they decided to feature on this billboard are my ex and his identical twin brother?

Pretty good, apparently. Because there they are in all their enormous glory.

“Which one is Theo?” Mia asks.

I take in the chiseled jawlines of Theo and Carter Williamson. I’m still not used to this grown-up version of the twins, but I don’t even have to think about it before I say, “The one on the left.”

I never got Theo mixed up with his brother. The charming glint in his eye, the subtle smirk. He was always so easy to know. At least, he was for me.

Since we’re always traveling from city to city for short-term gigs, Mia and I have gotten really good at research.

Before we ever show up for our first shift, I’ve identified the best coffee shop and the best place to get french fries, and Mia has mapped out the safest running routes for two women living alone.

But this time, we came in blind. It was an easy sell for Mia. She grew up in North Carolina, two hours north of Atlanta, and had been making noise about visiting her family for months. Throw in free housing in a very posh condo, and she knew all she needed to know.

As for me … ignorance was bliss, I guess? It’s all I can figure—that I was too afraid of what I might find to look too closely. And rightly so. Because we didn’t just move to Atlanta. We moved right into the heart of Georgia Jaguars hockey country.

The arena where the team plays is three blocks away from Indigo’s condo. The hospital where we work is the official healthcare provider for the team. Not to mention the tattoos, the jerseys, the hats, the bumper stickers. Atlanta really, really loves their hockey team.

And now, there’s a billboard of my ex’s face directly across from my favorite coffee shop. Fabulous.

“It’s honestly ridiculous,” Mia says as she eases into traffic and the billboard fades from view. “For them to be that stupid hot.”

I don’t respond, but I doubt Mia actually expects me to. I can share a city with Theo. But that doesn’t mean I want to talk about him.

We pull into the parking garage of Atlanta General and park in our usual spot. “So you’ll be done at seven today?” Mia asks as she turns off the car and hands me my keys.

I yawn and drop them, along with my phone, into my bag. “Should be. Or just before. But I’ll wait for you if I finish early.”

We ride the elevator together, then part when it stops on the fourth floor. “Love you,” Mia says as she steps off, latte in hand. “Have a good shift.”

Up one more floor, I make my way to the surgical lounge where I store my belongings and check my phone before officially clocking in.

Unlike Mia, who has no problem ignoring a thousand unread notifications on her phone, I get twitchy if I have even one, so I quickly scroll through them before I clear everything out.

There isn’t much to look at. A “just checking in” text from my mom. An Instagram reel in the group chat I share with my two younger sisters. A reminder that I have sixty dollars of rewards at my favorite retailer that I’ll lose if I don’t spend it before the end of the week.

I leave that notification unread so I’ll remember to check it once my shift is over. There’s a dress I’ve had saved in my cart for weeks, and that sixty dollars will make it close to free.

Before I put down my phone, one more message pops up—this one from my boyfriend, Rory. A weird tightness stretches across my chest. Things with Rory have been a little strained lately. Enough that when his messages come in, I usually feel more trepidation than I do excitement.

If Mia were here, she’d be shaking my shoulders, telling me to end things already.

But it isn’t that simple. I can’t end a year-long relationship because we’re going through a rocky stretch. Especially when we’re on opposite sides of the country.

Rory lives in Southern California, just outside Los Angeles, which is where Mia and I do most of our travel nursing.

That’s where we’re paid the most, so we usually jump from one hospital to another, taking whatever contracts will keep us close to the beach and, at least for me, not too far away from Rory.

But then the Atlanta thing came up, and it was too good to pass up, so Rory and I are giving the long-distance thing a go. We aren’t particularly awesome at it, but I have to hope that once I’m back in California, we’ll figure out whatever is wrong and do what it takes to make it right again.

Rory

Hey! Just wanted you to know I’m heading to Tokyo for a few days, so I won’t be around for our evening phone calls.

I frown at my phone. He’s making it seem like we talk every night when we usually only manage two or three times a week. With how frequently he’s out with clients in the evening, it’s been a challenge to sync up our schedules.

Becca

You’re up early. Work trip?

Rory

I never went to bed. But I’ll sleep on the plane. Working on landing a big client. BIG.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes at Rory’s all-caps BIG. He’s a financial advisor working hard to grow his client list, so he’s all about networking and connections. The number of times he’s told me he’s finally met the person who’s going to take him to the next level—it’s too many to count.

I stare at my phone for another beat, suddenly struggling with how to respond. I don’t want to know about his client—they all sound the same to me—so I settle for something politely generic.

Becca

Good luck! Call me when you’re back in the States.

He gives my message a thumbs-up.

Annnnd that’s a pretty solid summary of our relationship these days. Thumbs-ups and promises to call when I have no idea what we’ll talk about when we do.

I sigh and set my phone on the top shelf of my locker. I’m not even sure I’ll miss talking to Rory while he’s out of the country, and that feels like a very bad sign.

I don’t have time to dissect the many warning flags fluttering around my relationship, so I push the thoughts from my mind, take a quick bathroom break, then make my way toward the OR. I pass the nurses’ station and glance up at the board.

Maybe it’s because I saw his face on a billboard this morning, but my mind immediately flashes to the night Theo showed up in the OR. That was back in April, when I’d only been in Atlanta a few weeks.

I don’t usually work nights, but my shift had run long with a surgery that was more complicated than expected, so I was still at the hospital when we received word that a hockey player had just been injured during a game and was on his way in for emergency surgery.

My supervisor asked me to stay on and scrub in, and I quickly agreed.

But then I saw the digital schedule update with the player’s name.

T. Williamson.

It had to be Theo.

I explained the situation to my boss, and she immediately pulled me from the schedule. There was no way I could be calm and levelheaded with my ex-boyfriend on the table. But I did hover in the anteroom long enough to see him wheeled in, to catch a glimpse of his profile.

Even from a distance, seeing him in person sent a piercing ache right to the center of my heart. He looked so different. Older. Bigger. More handsome. But somehow, he was the same too. The boy I loved turned into a man.