Chapter 25 Ollie
OLLIE
“You okay, dude?” Bedard asks as we head to the bus lot at the local airport.
“Yeah, fine. Thanks.” I’m not the type to pour my heart out, especially to strangers.
Manners would dictate that I ask if he’s okay, but I don’t want to talk.
Not even a week ago, I was flying in to start my time with a new team, and here I am getting on a bus with them on a short road trip to hopefully advance us in the playoffs.
And I’m an engaged man. I’m dreading leaving the bubble I’ve been in here.
I know I’ll have to face the media with questions about my brief time on Bigfoot Finds a Bride, my trade from the Sasquatch, and my engagement to Phoebe.
I see Bedard and Alvarez exchange a look. They probably think I’m an asshole. Whatever. I’m here to play hockey, not join their buddy-buddy sunshine-and-rainbows cult.
We pull up to the private lot at the airport and park.
I follow Bedard and Alvarez into the terminal, where most of our teammates are waiting.
“What kept you?” Lindy asks, arms flying wide.
“Yeah, you’re always first here.” Coach tips his baseball hat up so we can see his slightly disapproving expression.
Alvarez elbows me in the ribs. “Loverboy didn’t want to leave his lady.” He smacks a few kisses my way.
A few of the others slap me on the back, and Bedard leans in close. “I didn’t want to leave Kendall, either.”
They’re teasing me, but it’s annoying.
Nick the trainer gives a chin lift in greeting, and I want to punch him.
He knows what Phoebe’s kisses are like, and it kills me.
I never thought I was a jealous man, but that’s because I never had anything I wanted so badly.
Then there’s the friendship thing with Stone.
The little bit I know about Stone is that he’s a good guy.
He’s a skilled player, he plays fairly, and he’ll reach out a hand to help you back on your skates after he checks you into the boards.
Phoebe liked him well enough to become friends with him.
We check our bags, and I show my ID so they have it on record.
Coach comes over and slaps me on the back.
“Hey, King, crazy couple of days, huh?” he asks.
I can’t be an ass to him, or my ass will be benched. “Yeah, definitely.”
He surveys the terminal before asking, “Have you had a chance to look over our playbook? Obviously, the game is more about systems than set plays, but until you get the on-ice reps, it’s a foundation.”
“I’ve been looking it over and watching game video. Being on the ice with the team yesterday was good.”
We’re told we can start boarding and leave the terminal to climb the steps up onto the bus.
My first impression of the team’s bus is gratitude.
It’s much nicer than the bus the Sasquatch use.
It doesn’t smell like wet fur. The ’Squatch bus, while appearing clean, always smelled like a flock of sheep that rolled in shit and then got rained on.
Maybe that’s why they’re all miserable. Looking at the luxury the Devil Birds travel in, it’s easy to see why they’re so damn perky and nice.
Coach claps me on the shoulder before taking a seat at the front of the bus. “Good. If you have any questions, ask me.”
This is like climbing onto a school bus on the first day of school and hoping you can find a place to sit, knowing that it will dictate where you sit for the rest of the year.
I take a seat in the fourth row and put in my earbuds, opening my iPad to show I have no interest in being social so no one sits next to me.
Stone doesn’t pick up on the cue and plops down. He’s quiet until we pull out of the airport and get on the highway, but that’s as long as it lasts.
“I know you aren’t listening to anything,” he says. “You’re on a bus full of shifters. We all know you’re wearing them so we don’t talk to you.”
Alvarez chuckles from across the aisle, where he sits with Lindy.
Sighing, I take them out, put them in the case, and slip them in my pants pocket. “I’m not trying to be rude. I’m not an asshole. I’m an introvert. People are exhausting and overwhelming.”
Stone smirks. “Except for Phoebe. She’s your person.”
My face flushes hotly. “She is.”
“That’s awesome.” Stone offers a genuine smile. “She talked about you when we hung out.”
“She did?” I don’t bother trying to keep the surprise out of my voice.
“She did, and I don’t think she even realized it. I could tell she had feelings for you. I didn’t realize you were her best friend. I didn’t connect best friend Ollie with Oliver King of the Spokane Sasquatch, but once I saw you together, there was no question you two are perfect for each other.”
I nod. Not sure if I should thank him or what. This is so freaking awkward.
“Anyway,” Stone says. “I’ll leave you in peace, but I wanted to clear the air. We’re all glad you’re here on the team. I’m thrilled I don’t have to defend against you anymore.”
“Amen to that,” Bedard says from the seat behind me, and half the bus laughs.
Swallowing roughly against unexpected emotion, I say, “Thanks.”
I still think this team is almost a cult, but they’re a friendly lot. That’s appreciated after the toxic sewage of attitude the Sasquatch spewed.
Phoebe didn’t need to pack me a snack—they have sandwiches and drinks available for us.
The quality of the refreshments is much higher than my previous team’s offerings.
I spend part of the ride reading a mystery, until I overhear that Wi-Fi’s available.
No wonder everyone is happy, they’re treated like royalty.
We’re staying at a Clardmore hotel in New York City—the chain that’s owned by Declan Mackenzie’s family. I don’t know if that’s why the team chose it or because of the general quality. When we get there, Alvarez walks up and holds out a key.
“You’re sharing a suite with me and Stone,” he says.
“Okay,” I say, taking the key. “How do they assign roommates?”
“If it’s late, they hand out keys at random.
We always have suites with separate bedrooms if we’re sharing or single rooms if we’re alone.
Otherwise we can coordinate among ourselves who we room with.
” His brow furrows. “Is it okay if we room together? I thought maybe it would be easier, since you know us. If you have questions or whatever, you can ask. If you’d rather not, you can trade—whatever works for you. ”
“No, I’m cool sharing. Thanks.”
Stone joins us. “They’re unloading our bags now.” They have this down to a science, and the bags are rolled in on carts so we can quickly grab our luggage. Bedard hands me mine.
I take the elevators up to the private floor reserved for us.
The suite I’m sharing is nicer than the usual accommodations my old team had.
As team captain, I got a room of my own, but most of the team shared.
That was about the only perk of being captain—my teammates took full advantage of the puck bunnies in every town who were hoping to secure a professional hockey player as a boyfriend or cross something off their fuck-it bucket list, so the privacy was appreciated.
There’s a common sitting area, and then three bedrooms, each with a private bathroom.
The beds are huge and will fit a shifter.
I realize I can’t hear noise from other rooms. Usually staying in hotels, shifters can hear everything going on due to their generally superior hearing.
It sucked because I’d hear all my teammates having sex, and that’s something I never wanted to know about them.
I don’t bother unpacking fully, just hang up my garment bag so my suits don’t wrinkle. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I pull out my phone to text Phoebe.
Me: Arrived in New York.
Phoebe: Oh good! Can we FaceTime?
I hit the button and get up to close my door as we connect.
“Hi,” I say, “everything okay?”
It’s only been about seven hours since I left her, but I miss her so much.
Her smile is so sweet. “Yeah, I’m fine. Went by the bakery to check in. I’m going to work the counter on Friday and then start back baking on Monday. How about you? How was the trip?”
I lean against the headboard to get comfy, but Phoebe lets out a huge yawn. It’s not that late in New Jersey, barely eight in the evening, but she was up early this morning and didn’t get a lot of sleep.
“Go to bed, Phoebe. We’ll talk more tomorrow or the next day. Text or email if you want. Be careful.”
She laughs at that. “You’re the one that needs to be careful, dude. You’re seven feet tall, ramming into other big men wearing razor blades on their feet.”
“Yeah, but you’re the one that tripped over a turkey.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then we both laugh.
“I’m never going to live that down, am I?” she asks, her cheeks flushing a lovely pink.
“Probably not.”
“Something to tell the grandkids,” she says. The way her eyes widen, I’m sure it’s something that she said on reflex and didn’t really mean. But I wish she did.
“You’re right, I should probably get some sleep. Do you know what you’re doing for dinner?”
I shake my head. “No idea. I don’t know if there’s a team thing or if we’re on our own.”
“Well, whatever you do, have fun. But not too much fun.”
A chuckle slips out. “No worries, I’m here to play hockey, this isn’t a vacation. You’re not here.”
“Should I be buying a ticket?” she teases.
Um. Yes. Please.
“You’re welcome to come up here for this series or for any game we have. I’ll get you tickets—bus, plane, and game. Say the word.” Then I remember our promise. “But if we’re in Vegas, remember, we can’t get married without your sister.”
“Or your mother. She’d kill us. Have you heard from her yet?”
I need to call my mom, but I don’t know what to tell her.
“She texted yesterday, and I explained stuff. She left us alone last night because we most likely were celebrating our engagement. But she knows our schedule, so I’ll probably hear from her tomorrow.”
“What are you going to tell her?” The way Phoebe worries her bottom lip after asking makes me wish I was there to kiss it and soothe both her lip and her mind.
“The truth.”
“Oh,” she says sadly, looking down at her lap.
“That when I was on the show, I realized you were the only woman I wanted to be kissing, and fate smiled on me when I got traded to the Devil Birds. Being with you confirmed what I already knew—you’re the only woman I want to marry.
I proposed, you said yes, and we’re waiting until after your show and my season to get married. ”
I never knew brown eyes could be luminous, but Phoebe’s are in this moment.
“Really?” she asks breathlessly. “That’s what you’ll tell her?”
“Of course,” I say firmly. “It’s the truth. It’s my truth.”
“Oh, Ollie…”
If we keep talking, I’m going to start telling more truths, like how much I love her and how much I want her to love me in return. But I’m not going to tell Phoebe I love her for the first time when I’m three hours away and can’t do anything to show her the depth of my desire for her.
“Okay, you go to bed, Phoebe. I’m going to get dinner. Text me whenever you want. Sleep well.”
“Okay. Have a good night.”
“Goodnight.”
Our conversation disconnects. I finally have the freedom to say what I’ve been holding back the whole time.
“I love you.”
The blank screen doesn’t answer.