Chapter 6
The bus from the airport is reeling with pent up energy as the guys talk shit. We’re sprawling across the seats, everyone decompressing and loosening up after the flight. Ford and I lead the charge in tearing into the Charlotte Timbers like we need to do a little chirping like we need our next breath.
I lean my head back against the window, a grin spreading across my face. I focus on the Timbers’ goalie, “that guy couldn’t stop a beach ball.”
Vlad jumps in, laughing, “Yeah, if he plays like last time, we might as well just take turns shooting from the center ice.”
I chuckle, agreeing. “Please, the guy tripped over his own damn skate. I’ve seen junior league goalies with better reflexes.”
Ford grins, scooting forward with a cocky smirk. “We’re gonna skate right through them, brother.”
Vlad slaps his hand down onto my back. “Oren, you could probably score on him with a blindfold and one arm tied behind your back. Just wind up and fire. Game over.”
I grin. “You’re right. They couldn’t keep up with me on their best day.”
Ford laughs. “Careful, Samuels, your ego’s taking up more space than your gear right now.”
“Hey, confidence is key,” I say with a wink, enjoying myself immensely. “Besides, it’s not like we haven’t seen this team crumble under pressure before.”
Ford snickers. “Yeah, and I heard their captain’s still sore from the other night when he ate the boards for dinner.”
We’re all laughing, feeding off each other’s jokes, when Coach Wilder’s voice booms through the bus, his words sharp as a blade. “Alright, cut that shit out, assholes!”
His tone leaves no room for argument. Everyone falls into an uneasy silence, a few of the rookies shifting in their seats. “We’re not here to play comedian,” Nolan continues, his gaze moving across the aisle to meet ours. “You think they’re going to roll over just because you showed up? Think again. I need your heads in the game, not up each other’s ass.”
I feel Ford tense beside me, but I know better than to push it with Nolan. I give a quick nod. “Got it, Coach,” I say, trying to sound as respectful as I can muster while hiding the grin that’s still fighting to be released. “We’re focused.”
“You better be,” he snaps. Nolan’s eyes narrow, as if he’s trying to decide if i’m just blowing smoke up his ass. “Save the jokes for after we’ve got the win in our pocket. And until then, I want every single one of you to start thinking like champions, not clowns.”
“Alright, alright, we get it,” Vlad mutters under his breath. “No more fun allowed.”
I jab my elbow over the seat as a warning for Vlad, even though I’m fighting a smile myself. “Shut up, man,” I whisper. “Coach is on a tear today.”
Ford leans over, lowering his voice. “He’s just got a lot riding on this season, you know. Youngest coach in the league and all that. Gotta prove to the world that last year wasn’t a fluke.”
I nod. “Yeah, I get it,” I whisper back, “but sometimes it feels like he’s wound a little too tight.”
Ford smirks. “Guess that’s what happens when you have to babysit a bunch of overgrown assholes.”
We all chuckle quietly, trying not to let Coach hear. But I know he’s right in his own way. There’s a lot at stake this season. We have a championship title to defend. So, I take a deep breath, letting go of the humor, and start mentally preparing myself for the game, knowing that once we hit the ice, there won’t be any room for jokes or second chances.
I’ve always loved road games. On the road, everything is different, like anything could happen, and it usually does. There’s no routine to fall into, no familiar faces to answer to. Only my team and a fresh start in every new city. After leaving it all on the ice after a game, I can just relax—no strings, no obligations, just a game to win and a city full of people I’ve never met before.
A chance to be whoever the hell I want, really, to do whatever the hell I want without feeling tied down. It’s a kind of freedom I crave, that I need, and I don’t know what I would do without it. When we’re on the road, I can be more than Oren Samuels, the defenseman with last season’s glory on my shoulders. I look forward to walking into a bar or a club where anyone who knows my name is a fan and one hundred percent onboard with having no expectations, no commitments from me the next day. I’m just a guy looking for the next thrill. And there’s always something to be found—new faces, new places, new experiences.
The sudden quiet settles over the bus as we get closer to the hotel. Once we step off the bus, the pressure of being a professional athlete starts. Where we have to find a way to focus despite the noise of the rink or the crowd, instead channeling it to reverberate through our veins. Personally, I love the feeling of my skates cutting into unfamiliar ice, and the jeers of opposing fans, the feeling that you’re in enemy territory with nothing but your swagger to protect you.
The bus comes to a stop and I’m one of the first off, itching to stretch my legs and move beyond a cramped plane or uncomfortable bus seat. I grab my bag and sling it over my shoulder. I wait around for the rest of the guys, falling in line behind my coach and captain with the rest of the team as we filter through the doors. The lobby is bustling with people—travelers, staff—but I just want to get my room key.
Up ahead, a flash of dark, wavy hair draws me in like a magnet. My steps falter, and I blink. For a split second, I swear it’s her. Rachel. The way her shoulders are set, how she’s standing, her head tilted slightly off to the side as she waits for the elevator doors to close. I blink a few more times, trying to shake it off. It can’t be–Elliot told me she doesn’t travel anymore.
But logic doesn’t keep my heartbeat from kicking up, or adjusting to try and get a better look. The woman turns slightly and it’s too late. The elevator doors close with a snap before I get a good look.
Could it really be her? What would she be doing here, in this hotel, at this exact moment? It doesn’t make any sense. I start to take a step forward, instinctively moving toward the elevator, but I shake my head, feeling a bit foolish. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, or my mind’s playing tricks on me. I tell myself to let it go, but there’s a nagging feeling in my gut that won’t go away.
I shake it off and check into my room. I hear the sounds of my teammates heading to the bar, hooting and hollering in the hallway. Their laughter spills through the thin walls of my hotel room. A knock on the door, a deep pounding on the wood, tells me exactly who it is before I even turn the handle. Sure enough, Ford's grinning face pops around the corner, full of mischief.
“Brother, look a little excited! We have a free night and you aren’t moving fast enough,” he teases, leaning against the doorframe like he’s got all the time in the world. “Got something on your mind?”
“Maybe,” I give him a look. Keeping my tone light and breezy. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
Ford chuckles, “As captain, everything is my business. Especially when my best bud here is acting like he’s seen a ghost.”
I shrug it off, but his comment sticks with me. There’s still the churning feeling in my gut. I feel unsettled, like I’m standing on the edge of something, not quite sure what it is or why it’s bothering me so much. I toss my stuff into the corner for now.
Ford watches me closely, sensing the shift in my mood. “Hey,” he says, his tone softening just a bit. “Why don’t you come down to the bar with me? Some of the guys are already there. Plus, I hear the drinks are on Vlad tonight, so you know it’s gonna be good.”
I laugh at that, my grin coming a little easier for the first time since checking in. “Vlad’s paying? Hell, now I have to come.”
Ford knew he had me the minute he said that. “Exactly. Come on. Let’s blow off some steam, have a few drinks, and get your mind off… whatever it is that’s got you all twisted up.”
I nod, feeling the tension in my shoulders start to ease, just a little. “Alright. Let’s go see what kind of trouble we can get into.”
We all spill out into the lobby, where I can already hear the clinking glasses in the bar just around the corner. Ford nudges me with his elbow.
“See?” he says, winking. “This is what we needed—a little booze, a little bullshit, and maybe some friendly wagers about who’s gonna score first tomorrow….or tonight.”
I roll my eyes. “You know I’m always up for a wager,” I reply. “But are you? Remember, you’ve lost the last three wagers.”
Ford laughs, his voice loud and easy. “Well, tonight’s my comeback. Come on, first round’s on me, Vlad can handle the rest… unless you spot someone more interesting than my ugly mug.”
I snort, but my eyes instinctively scan the room as we step into the bar, just in case. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that a ghost is following me, somewhere close. Even though it doesn’t make any sense. I follow Ford to the bar, ready to lose myself in a few drinks and let the rest of it fade away, at least until tomorrow. I linger against the bar after Ford moves on to the table with the rest of the guys. Before long, I spot a black-haired beauty with a smile that is more of a warning than anything else. She’s got this very specific look in her eyes, the one that tells me she’s looking for a good time. Perfect. Exactly the distraction I need for the night.
I catch her eye, and she smiles, moving a little closer, her hips swaying to the beat of the music. “Hi,” she says, her voice inviting. “You look like you could use some company.”
I smirk, raising my glass. “Is it that obvious?”
She laughs, a seductive sound that instantly has me feeling some type of way. “Just a guess,” she replies, leaning in, pressing her tits together. A whiff of her perfume permeates my space, something spicy. “I’m Serena.”
“Oren,” I introduce myself, flashing my usual panty dropping smile. “So, Serena, what brings you here tonight?”
She shrugs, her fingers lightly brushing my arm, sending a small jolt, you know where. “Oh, you know… just looking to blow off some steam. You?”
I lean in, my familiar confidence kicking in. “Pretty much the same. And I think I just found it.”
She laughs again, her eyes sparkling with interest. “Well, aren’t you smooth?” she teases, with a little bit of bite to it.
“Only when I see something I want,” I reply, my voice dropping just enough to get my point across. I take another sip of my drink, watching as she mirrors me, our gazes locked.
She moves closer, pressing her body against the side of mine as she speaks. “You always this charming, or is tonight special?”
I smirk, shrugging. “Guess you’ll have to stick around to find out.”
After a while, I finish my drink and lean in, whispering in her ear. “What do you say we take this somewhere a little more private?” I suggest, with a wink.
Her smile widens, and she nods. “Where did you have in mind?”
I grin, tilting my head toward the elevators. “Not far. My room’s just upstairs.”
She bites her lip, pretending to think it over, but I could read the answer in her eyes the minute I asked. “Why not?” she says with a flirty smile. “Lead the way.”
As we walk through the lobby toward the elevator, I see her. My heart stops, my breath catching in my throat. Rachel. Standing at the desk, looking completely frazzled, one step away from a melt down, a crying baby cradled awkwardly in her arms. I freeze, my feet no longer communicating with my brain as I scramble to process what I’m seeing. Rachel is here. With a baby. What the hell is going on? Why is she in Charlotte? And whose fucking baby is that?
I can’t tear my eyes away from her. I study her as she tries so hard to calm the baby, her hands trembling, her face beaten down by exhaustion. I’ve never seen her like this—frazzled, vulnerable—and every instinct in me is screaming at me to go help her. But I’m stuck, unable to move or think straight.
Serena tugs on my arm, trying to pull me toward the elevator. “Oren, come on,” she giggles, her voice loud and playful, cutting through the fog in my brain. I don’t react, my line of sight locked on Rachel.
Then, I watch in slow motion as Rachel’s head snaps around at the sound of my name, and our eyes lock. My stomach lurches as her expression shifts from frazzled to something else—shock, disbelief, maybe anger? I can’t read it fully, but I see the way her eyes widen, a flash of recognition and then something else, something that tells me she isn’t happy to see me here.
“Oren?” Serena tugs on my arm again, more insistently this time. I shake my head, feeling like I’m in a daze, unable to look away. “It’s not going to happen,” I say absently.
“Seriously?” she huffs, crossing her arms. She pouts, clearly annoyed. “Whatever, your loss.”
She turns and marches away, her heels clicking against the marble floor, but I barely notice. My feet are moving toward Rachel before I even realize it, my heart pounding in my chest.
I cross the lobby in a few long strides, my eyes never leaving her face. The closer I get, I know this isn’t some mistake. It’s Rachel, and the baby in her arms, there’s something about that kid, something familiar, my gaze flicking from her to the baby and back to her face again.
“Rachel?” I hear my own voice, foreign sounding, even to me. Strained and uncertain. I keep a small distance between us, close enough to see the tired lines around her eyes, the anger vibrating off of her. Why the hell is she angry at me? “What… what are you doing here?”
She doesn’t answer right away. I can see the panic flickering in her eyes, how she swallows hard, like she’s bracing herself for something. For a split second, it looks like she’s about to run, to make some excuse and bolt. But she doesn’t. She just stands there, like she’s caught in something awful.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, my voice firmer this time, my mind racing with a thousand different questions, none of which have clear answers. “And… whose baby is that?”