Chapter 32
DEVON
I’ve been called up.
I never used the dragon’s tongue on Jack.
I’m going to the big leagues.
I’m miserable.
As I drove up Highway One from Abbotsford to Vancouver, with my equipment in my trunk, my thoughts swirled. The IceHawks were putting me up in a hotel near their training facility. I wouldn’t even have a roommate.
I’d survived my time with Hairs.
I deserved a goddamn medal. The best thing about being called up? I didn’t have to go on the western trip. Edmonton, Calgary, and Winnipeg. With a swing through Seattle for good measure.
Nope. Not going to miss Hairs at all.
But damnit, I’d miss Jack.
I banged the steering wheel with the back of my hand as I drove through increasingly heavy traffic.
Langley through to Surrey and over the Port Mann Bridge had been fine.
This stretch around Kensington in Burnaby was slower.
My GPS informed me of an accident ahead but that I was still on the fastest route.
Arvy, who’d been called up before, said to be certain I stayed away from Hastings Street.
Something about speed-control measures and, frankly, it being depressing.
Homeless people and drug addicts. And yeah, I saw his point.
My head needed to be on the game—not on how we kept letting down our most desperate citizens.
Canada did lots right, but still wasn’t perfect.
I was one of those weird people who didn’t mind paying taxes—as long as it went to all the right things.
Universal healthcare.
Building housing.
Social assistance for those down on their luck.
And like the other stuff—roads, sewers, and a strong electrical grid.
Many twenty-five-year-olds didn’t think about that shit.
As I eased my way past the accident, I thanked the first responders in my mind. Also paid for by taxpayers.
Traffic picked up, and soon I was back up to speed.
I was only going to travel at the speed of the other traffic.
Not ever having gotten any speeding tickets in my life was something I was damn proud of.
Yet another thing I credited to my mother.
Never risk your place on any team. Said in her strong Quebecois accent.
Avoid interacting with the police unless necessary.
Well, except charity events where getting along with law enforcement was a good thing.
Jesus fucking Christ. You’ve got practice in an hour. You’ve got a game tonight. Your first fucking big-league game. And you’re thinking about social safety nets, housing starts, and speeding tickets.
Jesus fucking Christ indeed.
Yet all that was true.
Also, something to keep my mind off two things.
Nerves about the game.
And how much I was already missing Jack.
Today was game day for the Grizzlies.
They were taking on Brampton tonight, who were doing their own western Canada tour. Their team would be shocked at the weather. After the storm that followed Jack and me from Tofino to Abbotsford yesterday, the skies had cleared and the temperature was now unseasonably warm. Like, twelve degrees.
As I took the exit for First Avenue, I tried to convert the temperature in my head.
Nope.
I needed to focus on the road.
Apparently, I was on the tail end of rush-hour traffic. It’s just a week. And the team’s heading south for a road trip in a few days. Hell, you might not even be going with them.
Yeah.
That.
I ran through my knowledge of the Vancouver team. Nicknames of the players. Names of the various coaches. Anything I could think of.
Nerves and Jack.
Two things I couldn’t afford to get distracted by.
I hung a right onto Main Street and damn near hit a pedestrian who decided a yellow light was a good time to dart across the road. I didn’t hit them, but my heart sped up. My hands shook at the near-miss.
Didn’t Arvy warn you about traffic?
Quite possibly.
As I drove the Georgia Street Viaduct, the arena came into view.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Huge banners of some of the players hung. Prominent. Right there for commuters to see.
One day…one day that’ll be me.
But not if I didn’t pay attention to where I was going and what I was doing.
Suddenly, I realized the GPS hadn’t chirped at me for a while. I pulled into a street parking spot on Cambie Street and checked the damn thing. I had no idea how, but it had some kind of fucking system error.
I yanked out my phone, heart hammering.
Okay, I wasn’t too far away.
Duh. You just passed the arena.
My phone provided me with directions that appeared simple. If Vancouver was anything like downtown Toronto, though, then nothing would be that easy. Especially around the arena.
Yet, as I pulled into the parking lot five minutes later, I said a thank you to the hockey gods who’d blessed me with an easy jaunt.
I presented my credentials to a very officious-looking security guard.
She directed me to a designated area and said someone would be out to greet me.
God, has someone been waiting this entire time? I was on time—barely—but the idea that I was getting any kind of special treatment sort of knocked me sideways.
They know you’ve never been here. They don’t want you wandering around lost. Or so I told myself until a woman wearing a team jacket joined me just as I was retrieving my extra hockey sticks.
I closed the truck, assured myself the alarm was set, and then I offered her a broad grin, sticking out my hand. “Devon Jarvis.”
“I’m Fatima. I’m here to show you around and to take care of you as best I can.”
“Great.”
We started walking.
“I’m nervous.” I blurted that out.
“Oh, so was I on my first day. I’d been to see so many games. The thought of working for the organization? Blew my mind. Like, so much excitement.” She grinned as she held the door for me.
Normally, I believed in chivalry. Something about this woman’s demeanor reminded me of Amy.
I’m as strong as most men, can beat you in a speed competition, and don’t need to be treated differently because I happen to have breasts.
Again, Mama’s admonitions came to mind. About treating women properly while respecting their strengths.
Plus, opening doors while carrying a bundle of extra hockey sticks would’ve just been damn awkward.
“Locker room’s here.” Fatima gave me a smile.
Fuck. Not paying attention. How are you going to get back here?
Oh. I’d be following Karim Khoury around like a puppy scared of losing his way.
The captain was a damn talented top six power forward.
Since I was swapping in for a bottom pair injured defenseman, I wasn’t likely to see much ice time at all, never mind alongside Khoury.
Hell, I would dress tonight and maybe not play a moment on the ice.
“Thanks, Fatima.” I tried to inject confidence I sure as shit didn’t feel.
She offered a beaming smile. “Wheels will take care of you.”
As Fatima predicted, I got a hearty handshake from Khoury, who everyone called Wheels for some reason.
Right. For some reason. Because he’s held the League’s speed record since his rookie season.
I had a couple of inches of height on the guy, but he was broad and ripped and powerful. I was in damn good physical shape, but he had me beat by a lot.
Gonna have to up my game if I’m going to hold my own on a team with guys like him.
“You’ll go great. Get your gear on—practice starts in half an hour.”
“Yeah.” I turned toward the locker I’d be using.
And there it was.
A Vancouver IceHawk jersey. That I’d be wearing for tonight’s game.
With my name. With my number.
Somehow, by luck, the number thirty wasn’t in use.
I’ve made it. If only for a week…I’ve made it.
Wheels nudged me. “Never gets old.”
“Nope.
“You ready?”
“Yep.” Said with way more confidence than I felt. Except, as I raced to unpack my gear and to get suited up, a mantra repeated over and over in my mind. This is just a game. No one’s life is in your hands. The world won’t come to an end if you play badly. Jack will still—
I paused for just a moment.
Jack would what?
Still think I was a good player and person? Sure. That.
Still believe in me, even if I had a moment of doubt? Sure. That.
Still love me? Yeah. That.
Even as I laced my skates, tires screeched in my mind.
Jack didn’t love me. He’d never come close to saying anything like that.
Just because I loved him didn’t mean he reciprocated the feelings.
His unwillingness to join me at the kink club—even wearing masks—told me a lot.
The argument we’d had on the deck of the ferry really had been our last interaction as two men in a relationship.
Or, more accurately, ending a relationship.
“You nervous?”
I finished tying my laces and gave Wheels a huge smile. “No.”
He cocked an eyebrow.
“Yes.”
“Come and meet everyone. They’ve given you some time, but man, they’re going to love you.”
I had no idea what he meant until I got on the ice and, as predicted, everyone welcomed me.
Practice went well.
Napping in a luxurious hotel room by myself was easier than I thought.
Dressing for the game while knowing the arena was filling overwhelmed me.
Jack won’t be here tonight. Which is just as well. He’s coaching the team against Brampton. A team you really wanted the chance to kick their asses. He won’t have time to watch the game. He won’t—
My phone pinged.
Jack
Breathe. You’re going to do great.
My heart leapt even as my heart caught in my throat. My big-league debut, and Jack wasn’t here. That felt…wrong. You don’t need him here to hold your hand. You don’t—
“It’s time to go.” Wheels held my gaze with intense dark-brown eyes. “You’ll be fine.”
When I skated out onto the ice for my rookie lap in a Vancouver IceHawks jersey, to raucous cheers from the crowd, I almost believed him.
When I joined the IceHawks for warmups, I almost believed him.
When I scored my first ever point in the big leagues—an assist in the third period—I really did believe him.
I wasn’t going to downplay it. I’d had little ice time, so wow.
We were up four nothing, and so giving me a chance wasn’t risking anything.
I was in the right place at the right time to steal the puck and then, in a moment of grace, was there to get the puck from my D partner and whip it on goal where it was tipped in by the captain himself.
Nope, I was going to take that point and savor it for the rest of my life.
As I settled into my hotel, however, without receiving a congratulatory text from Jack, my heart ached more for that than my head celebrated the victory and point.
I’m well and truly in love with him.
Which means I’m well and truly fucked.
And I have no idea what to do.