Rebound Control (Chicago Thunder #5)

Prologue

FIFTEEN MONTHS AGO

Elliot

I’m late. Again.

I was doing so well to keep on schedule today, too.

So well, in fact, that I had an hour to spare before I needed to leave, so I rewarded my rare punctuality excellence with a quick game of Fortnite.

Except when the alarm I’d set on my phone as a reminder went off mid-Battle Royale round, I snoozed it, then forgot I was supposed to leave, and started up another game.

Okay, maybe it was like three more games. And I didn’t even win once. Double bummer.

Luckily, I realized soon enough, meaning I’m only forty-five minutes late, but now I’m hitting every single red light between my apartment and the arena. Because of course the traffic light gods would punish me like this.

As I head down Madison, I curse the traffic and the lights, and the Mercury retrograde, even though it ended a month ago. I read that it impacted Leos, and I’m a Leo, therefore, it’s all Mercury’s fault.

When I’m three blocks away, Coach Harris’s words from yesterday begin to play on a loop in my brain.

“Don’t be late, Elliot. It’s our first opportunity to thank the sponsors and long-standing season ticket holders. They will want to see Chicago’s starting goaltender ahead of the new season. You don’t want to make a bad impression with them by not showing up on time.”

And here I am, not showing up on time. Ugh. Why am I like this? They’re going to be so disappointed with me.

My palms are a slippery, sweaty mess when I finally reach the arena where today’s event is being held. The team hosts the Chicago Thunder family day every September. It’s a closed event, and it’s usually a fun-filled day, but I’m already feeling tense.

I throw my car into the first available parking spot and jump out.

The arena’s parking lot has been taken over by pop-up tents and stalls by local vendors.

Black, red, and white bunting hangs in the air throughout the cordoned-off area, giving it an almost carnival vibe.

Music pumps a catchy tune from a deejay set near the main doors.

It’s loud, but not loud enough that it makes my skin itch.

I scan the space in front of me and wonder if this thing has even started yet.

There aren’t many people here, or maybe it has started and this is it.

I guess there’s a chance it’s on a smaller scale than it was last year.

I’m not going to make a fuss because crowds stress me out, but if this is it, then there’s no way I’m going to be able to stealth my way in.

Everyone will notice I’m late, and Coach Harris will give me his disappointed glare, and I hate when he does that.

It reminds me of when I was a kid and my teachers would scowl at me for not getting the math equations correct after they explained it to me seventeen hundred times.

I don’t do math. That’s what calculators are for. Or the internet.

My chest starts to tighten as panic sets in at the idea of disappointing everyone.

I pull out my phone with shaky fingers to text my twin brother.

Blaine has covered for me since we were kids, even going as far as telling that mean old math teacher he ate my homework when in reality, I had accidentally dropped it in a puddle, and touching wet paper makes my arms want to retreat into my torso like a turtle’s head retreating into its shell. The texture is all wrong.

I’m late, but I don’t want them to be mad at me so can we pretend that you made me late? Like I had to go and turn your oven off or something.

Wait. Do you even know how to turn the oven on? LOL

I don’t. There’s too many buttons and I like my air fryer because it’s just one button.

Or takeout. That’s easier.

Maybe Ernie escaped and I had to chase him around the park.

IDK. Just cover for me! K thanks.

Slipping my phone back into the pocket of my jeans, I make my way through the pop-up tents to find some of my teammates.

I don’t like arriving at things on my own.

I know they’re around somewhere, but it’s the time spent searching for them that has this bubble of dread sitting in my gut.

I get all nervous for some reason, and then I convince myself that everyone is staring at me.

It’s different when I’m with my friends. I’m able to block other people out, and I feel safer to be myself. They are my protection. Human deflector shields.

I take in a few of the stalls as I pass them.

Hook a Duck is calling to me, and so is Coconut Shy.

I’m awesome at that game, but I give my head a mental shake to snap my attention back to the task at hand.

I don’t have time to get distracted by the million things going on around me. I’m already late.

When I spot the team’s publicist, Colleen, standing with our team captain, Ethan Parkes, I let out a sigh of relief.

“Wait for me!” I call out, jogging over to them.

Ethan and his boyfriend, Jacob, turn to face me. Neither of them looks mad, which is a good start, and Colleen simply watches me with an amused glint in her eye. Okay, so maybe it’s not going to be so bad after all.

“Sorry, I got distracted and didn’t realize the time,” I quickly apologize, taking one of the jerseys Colleen is handing out and pulling it over my head. “I’m here now, and I’m ready to have some fun.”

Jacob gives my elbow a reassuring squeeze, and then I follow him and Ethan to finally check out the carnival games.

As we make our way around, more people start to show up, stopping us for photos and autographs. I can’t help but wonder if they told me an earlier time because they were expecting me to show up late.

Shame trickles through my veins at the thought.

Would they do that? I know I’m late sometimes, but am I that much of a liability?

Before my brain can spiral into a pit of self-doubt, Blaine and his boyfriend, Alex, make their way toward us.

“There you are,” I say, giving Blaine’s arm a shove to keep up the pretense of my earlier texts. “You made me late.”

“No, I didn’t?” he replies, and given the look of confusion on his face, I’m guessing he hasn’t looked at his phone.

I bounce on my toes, trying to think on the fly, but I can’t remember what I said in my texts.

“Uh, yeah, you did—” I start to argue, but my words die on my tongue as something captures my attention on the other side of the parking lot.

A fire engine, beside a truck and an ambulance.

Fuck, I love fire trucks. I wanted to be a firefighter when I was growing up, but my stupid-ass claustrophobia meant that could never happen.

There’s no way I would have been able to get through training without breaking out into a panic attack.

But it hasn’t stopped me from still liking everything to do with them, even as an adult.

“Well, hello there.” I grin, rubbing my hands together. “What have we here?”

I know the team does some work with the local first responders, but I didn’t know they were going to be here.

This is so exciting. I wonder if they’ll let me sit in it.

They probably would, but that means asking, and the thought of going up to them and asking makes me want to puke.

Surely there’s another way I can get their attention.

I could get stuck in a tree, then they would have to come and get me out.

But as I look around, that idea falls flat because there are no trees in the parking lot. I should put in a complaint about the lack of trees because where will the squirrels live?

“Don’t even think about it,” Ethan grumbles beside me, almost like he can see into my brain.

I narrow my eyes at my captain and whisper, “You don’t even know what I was gonna do.”

“Something that’ll get you into trouble, I’m sure.”

I give him my most charming smile. “I was looking for a tree. I was thinking I could climb it and pretend to get stuck. Y’know, like cats do. Then one of those hunks would come and rescue me, because nobody puts a goalie in a tree.”

Just as the words leave my lips, another idea comes to the front of my mind, and my eyes widen in excitement. This is a fucking perfect idea. “What if I pretend to get stuck on the fun slide? Do you think they’d rescue me there?”

I’m only half-joking. Kinda. Because getting stuck means they would have to come to me, so it’s different. And it avoids my stomach getting all twisted up.

Blaine barks out a laugh. “Please do that. It’ll be funny.”

“You don’t need to get stuck anywhere to speak to them, El. Maybe just go over there and say hey. You never know, they might let you sit in the truck,” Alex says with an encouraging smile.

But my brain immediately shrieks, On my own?

At what point in life does it become easier? I thought being an adult would mean these social nerves would go away. I’m twenty-eight years old, for fuck’s sake, and I struggle to do things on my own without breaking into a sweat.

I can speak to random people no problem, but it’s asking for things that’s something I struggle with.

Like when I was ordering a pizza one time, I got myself so worked up on the phone because I had to call instead of using the app, and I ended up asking if I could make an appointment instead of placing an order.

It’s like the wires in my brain are all jumbled up, and I get myself in a mess.

But I could go over there and say hey. That doesn’t seem scary, right? They might extend the offer to sit in the truck without me having to ask.

“And press the siren?” I ask curiously, feeling a little bit of confidence beginning to build.

“Maybe,” Alex beams.

I love how much confidence he has in me. He’s good for my brother.

Sucking in a deep breath, I nod a couple of times. More to myself than anything. I can do this. I can go over to them and say hi.

But what if they think I’m weird?

I mean, I am a grown-ass adult. They probably brought the truck along for kids to sit in, not me. But I can’t let it stop me. If I allowed my fears to stop me, I wouldn’t get to do anything in life.