Chapter 3
New Normal
Unbelievable. Sam had not only survived his startling reunion with Angie Rossi, but he’d come out of it with his balls intact.
And goddamn, she was even more beautiful than he remembered.
She’d also filled out in all the right places—not that she’d been lacking before.
Nope, even though six years had passed, his memory was crystal clear on how plush those curves had felt under his fingertips.
Jesus H. Christ, this was going to be torture.
She’d teased him a little with the Star Wars reference, so maybe there was hope they could find some neutral ground.
His optimistic heart dared believe they could even be friends, like they’d been before that night—the night he’d given her his jersey only to strip it off her in his hotel room later.
A night he’d never been able to stuff into a gear bag and shove to the back of his mind’s closet, though he’d tried his damnedest.
A few girlfriends had come and gone since her, and though he wasn’t proud to admit it, he’d had no problem moving on. Hockey always came first, which was probably why no relationship had ever stuck. So why couldn’t he leave memories of Angie behind as easily?
She hadn’t been a girlfriend. She’d been a friend who turned into one amazing, unforgettable night.
During all the years that had passed, he had never thought of her as a one-night stand, though she probably didn’t know that.
They had history, common threads that wove their lives together.
To be precise, they shared one bombastic common thread named Brianna.
Yeah, that didn’t bode well for him either.
The way he’d walked away from Angie hadn’t been so different from how a teammate might treat a hookup on the road, though.
He flinched inside at the recall. In his defense, that hadn’t been his intention when his alcohol-soaked brain had let down its defenses and given him permission to do what he’d wanted to do for a long time.
The fact that his desire for her had been simmering inside him made him an asshole because she’d been his steady’s best friend, though until that night, he hadn’t realized the attraction had been there all along. So maybe he wasn’t a total asshole.
Yeah, you are. Walking out on Angie that night proved it beyond a reasonable doubt.
Fuck.
He needed to get through this injury and get back on the ice as soon as possible, for so many reasons—including getting away from Angie and the uncomfortable memories she stirred up.
Time for a distraction. The one he chose was playing Assassin’s Creed Shadows on his PS5.
Not a great solution for the memory fog he was after, so when his phone lit up, he was easily pulled away.
The name flashing on his screen made his heart thunk in his chest. He blew out a breath, dreading the call while at the same time oddly grateful it channeled his ricocheting thoughts away from the girl he’d left behind.
He paused the game. “Hey, Dad. How’s it going?”
“I watched your game last night. How’s the injury?”
Okay, let’s just jump right into it. “High ankle sprain. I started PT this morning.” Sam reached down and adjusted the gel pack. Damn, that thing was cold.
“That’s a tough break, son. I’m sorry to hear it.”
Sam felt his hopes sink. “It’s not the end of my career.”
“No, of course not. It’s just … Well, hopefully the team will go deep, and you’ll have your shot at the playoffs. If not, there’s next year.”
Maybe there’s next, and maybe not. “Yeah, hopefully. How are you, though?”
“Eh, I’m doing what they tell me. They say I’m getting better. We’ll see.”
“I wish I could come see you. Or have you come see me.”
“We’ll get there, son. Don’t worry, okay? You need to focus on healing that ankle.”
And you need to not worry about me and focus on your own health.
“You had a really good game,” his dad encouraged. Of course he did. He was Sam’s biggest cheerleader, especially after he had picked up the slack for Mom.
“Thanks. I just wish I’d had my head on a bigger swivel. I might have avoided the collision.”
“Shit happens, Sammy, and it happens at the speed of light. Even if you’d had the advantage of three-sixty vision, I’m not sure you could have avoided it in time.
” He wheezed, and the rattle spiked Sam’s pulse rate.
It was an unnerving sound. “How’s your PT?
Do you like him? I’m sure he’s top-notch if the Blizzard hired him. ”
Sam pushed out a silent breath. “It’s a her, and she seems to know what she’s doing. Are you taking your oxygen like the docs told you to?”
“’Course I am,” his father protested, sounding stronger now. “Now tell me more about this physical therapist. Can I ask if she’s pretty, or does that make me a misogynist? Or sexist? I never know which is which.”
Scratching the back of his head, Sam forced a laugh. “She’s all right. You’ll never believe who she is.”
“Oh? You know her?”
“Sure do. You do too. Remember Brianna’s best friend, Angelina Rossi?”
“That cute little blond thing that was always glued to Brianna’s side?”
“That’s the one.”
“Well, I’ll be damned. Your mother always wondered why you didn’t date her.”
“Uh, maybe because I was with Brianna?”
“No, I mean after you and Brianna broke up. I suppose that would have been a little awkward, though, especially considering how things ended with you two.”
A little awkward? Oh hell yeah, it was.
Sam jumped the track. “How’s Joey? I haven’t talked to him in a while.”
“Joe’s busy with his studies, as usual. You should give him a call.”
Busy with the studies Sam was paying for.
Hell, he’d been paying his little brother’s college tuition for the past two years, and he didn’t intend to stop.
It was one of his mother’s dying wishes, and he had promised her he’d take care of it.
No matter what happened to his bank account, Sam would figure out a way to keep honoring that promise, especially since his brother was putting in the hard work and getting the grades.
The same way Sam was dedicated to hockey, Joey was dedicated to schoolwork—and he was damn good at it too.
Still, the obligation added another layer of financial stress. One more reason that missing a stint in the playoffs sucked balls.
“Yeah, I’ll do that, though I might wait until he’s through with finals.
He gets pissy if I try to talk to him when his nose is glued to the books.
” Amazing how different he and his brother were.
Sam had always been the sporty one, while Joe had been cerebral.
Sam was proud of his brother—and envious at times too.
If hockey didn’t pan out, he didn’t have a higher education to fall back on.
Maybe his brother could support him, he thought ruefully.
“Well, at least send him a text now and again so he knows you’re alive.”
Sam was about to remind his dad that if Joe wanted to know where Sam was, he only had to turn on the TV, but he corralled the words before they escaped. His brother wouldn’t see him on TV because Sam wouldn’t be playing.
Damn it! He hated this new reality.
It’s a temporary setback, that’s all. But would he be able to get back on the ice this season?
Sam pulled himself up from his morass. “Hey, so tell me about what kinds of things the docs are having you do.”
“Oh, Christ! You wouldn’t believe the rabbit food I have to eat nowadays.”
Sam chuckled. “What? You mean no more brats and buttered mashed potatoes for Coach? No more yelling at his players until his face turns purple?”
“Oh, come on, I wasn’t that bad. And look how you turned out because of it.
” Sam could hear the pride in his dad’s voice.
“I’m not allowed to have any more of the good-tasting food, and your Aunt Julie is having a field day making me eat that crap the nutritionist says is good for the old ticker.
Says she’s getting her revenge for all those years I was looking out for her.
Can you believe she thinks I bullied her?
She doesn’t get it, no matter how many times I tell her that I was protecting her from all those bad actors who kept sniffing around. ”
Apparently, it had worked because Aunt Julie had never married.
“Yeah? They were hockey players too, am I right?” Sam’s heart lifted as his old man spun one story after another about his former teammates, the same guys who used to chase Aunt Julie.
He’d heard the stories a million times—from both his dad and his aunt—and he always marveled at how different their versions sounded.
After exchanging a few more minutes of conversation and a few gruff I-love-yous, they hung up.
Sam looked around his half-vacant apartment, and desolation crept its way through him.
He hadn’t wanted to put too much attention toward the place because God only knew where he’d be in a few months.
Wise move, but the condo was sterile, what little furniture he had lacking warmth or personality.
Like something you’d find in a hotel room.
If only he could stick this time, he’d hire someone to decorate it for him, or he’d find himself a furnished condo in the same building as some of his teammates.
Or maybe a house in the neighborhood where the family guys lived.
Nothing fancy, but with a big enough backyard where he could finally have a dog.
Yeah, that was a big if.
His phone pinged with a text.
Toby: How’d PT go?
Sam: Hard to say. First day. Mostly eval and ice.
Toby: Who’s your PT?
Sam blew out a breath before typing.
Sam: Angie Rossi.
Toby: The blond! Fuck, you are so hosed, dude.
Sam found his defenses rising for reasons he didn’t comprehend.
Sam: She’s not half bad.