Chapter 17
. . .
Will
“Goddamn, man. Goal fucking machine!”
Silas collides with my chest and wraps an arm around my neck as we both turn and face the away crowd.
It feels like our support on the road is slowly increasing, and even if Tristan doesn’t want to acknowledge my existence or the fact that I’m now ahead of him on goals scored so far this season, I know it has everything to do with the instant impact I’ve had on the team.
Silas knocks his helmet against mine. “No, seriously, you’re on fire, and the W is definitely in the bag.”
“Shh!” I hush him, bringing a finger to my lips, which kicks up noise from our fans. “Don’t jinx us before the final buzzer.”
He deadpans at me as we skate toward center ice. “We’re two goals up, and there’s fifteen seconds left on the timer.”
Flying straight past us both, Tristan rejoins the ice on a changeover from Coach, and my captain watches him as he gets into position.
“I see the talk we had at Riley’s had the desired effect,” he points out sarcastically.
I look over my shoulder toward the benches and see Pittsburg’s coach asking the ref a question, which buys us a few additional seconds before the restart.
“I apologized for the post. What more can I do?”
Silas chews on the corner of his mouth guard. “Nothing. It’s down to him to push past whatever issue he has with you. So long as you’re scoring goals and killing it on the ice, I’d say that you’re doing your job.”
I glance at Tristan again as he starts stretching out his left adductor while we wait for the ref to finish up talking.
He still hasn’t told anyone about what happened with Hallie, and a part of me wonders if he’s deliberately staying silent so he can threaten to drag me with our teammates should he need to gain the moral high ground later.
Another part of me thinks he simply likes getting under my skin, or more specifically, a chance at taking my publicist to bed.
Jealousy burns through me when Silas skates off, and I see Coach motion for me to switch out for the final time.
“Nice work out there,” Mason croons, shifting along the bench when I step off the ice and bump fists with Coach.
I take a seat next to him and pull out my mouth guard. The game still hasn’t restarted, and there’s no chance I’m getting back on the ice tonight.
I’m good with that. I came here to do a job—score and help the team secure another shutout. Mission accomplished.
“Thanks,” I tell him.
Since the day he broke the news about his marriage, I’ve not been sure of what to say. The guy is going through a tough time, and from what I know of him so far, he doesn’t deserve any of it. Why does shitty stuff happen to good people?
“How’s, um … how are things with Eloise?” I finally ask.
I can tell he’s hurting, even if he’s doing his best to hide it in a packed arena.
“You don’t have to answer,” I quickly tag on. “This probably wasn’t the best time to ask you something like that.”
Mason leans forward, resting his upper weight on his stick. He sighs deeply, and Drew’s face flashes in front of me. It’s been a week since she climbed out of my car. If her grand plan of us giving each other space was to somehow curb my attraction to her, then it hasn’t fucking worked.
The only time I’m not thinking about the dark-haired beauty who likes to boss me around is when the puck is on the end of my stick.
“She flew back to France when we left for Pittsburg.” Mason’s voice is low and heavy.
“I think we’re over for good because this time, I have no clue how to fix us.
Plus …” He swallows and gazes absent-mindedly over the ice as the game restarts.
“It’s not like I can fly halfway across the world so we can talk. The hockey season is too congested.”
I nod without any personal experience to draw on. “You know if you ever need to shoot the shit with me, I’m here. I promise not to post any of our conversation on social media.”
Mason’s head snaps to me before he bursts out laughing, and the game ends.
We both stand, and Coach appreciatively taps our helmets before we make our way down the tunnel.
“I bet you were really fucking popular with your publicist over that one.” He pushes through the locker room door and heads for the benches, where we’re stationed next to each other. “You’re long-term friends, aren’t you?”
The rest of the team starts trickling into the room, distracted with their own conversations about the game.
And as I take a seat on the bench and immediately pull my phone from my bag, checking it for any kind of message from Drew beyond a fucking calendar invite, I consider sharing what went down in my car the other week.
It’s driving me fucking crazy, keeping it to myself. Ordinarily, I’d call my sister since we share everything with each other, but she’d probably just laugh at me and definitely think that I was fucking around. Not that I could fault her for that. Drew and I are the most unlikely pairing.
To everyone but me.
“When you’re silent, you make me nervous.”
I bite on my bottom lip as Mason takes a seat beside me and starts unlacing his skates.
“Why?” I ask.
He just chuckles. “Because you’re hardly ever quiet. Normally, that mouth of yours is constantly moving, so when you have nothing to say, I start to question what’s going on in that head.”
I’d argue back if he was wrong.
“Oh, I have plenty to say,” I eventually reply. “Just struggling to work out how to word it.”
Mason moves to work on his other skate, and I stand from the bench, pulling off my jersey and tossing it into the laundry bin in the center of the room.
“You have the hots for her.”
I stand motionless.
He flashes me a knowing grin. “See what I mean? Your silence makes me anxious because I know there’s something fucked up going on in there.” He reaches forward and taps my temple. “And just so you know, banging your publicist—whether or not you have history together—is not a wise move.”
He freezes at his own thoughts and comes to stand directly in front of me. “Wait, isn’t she also Coach Callaghan’s daughter?”
“Shh!” I hush a teammate for the second time tonight. “Why don’t you speak up and let the whole damn arena know about it?”
Mason side-eyes me and pulls off his jersey, tossing it into the laundry bin too.
“I might be a little bit attracted to her,” I admit, squeezing my thumb and forefinger together.
Another dubious look comes my way.
“All right, Will, whatever you say.”
Mason starts pulling off his pads, and I do the same.
“Has anything happened between you two?”
“No,” I say with a headshake. “And you’re the only one who knows anything, so keep it that way.” I pause and study my teammate. “How did you guess?”
He looks at me like it’s obvious. “The gala. Dude, you were throwing Tristan daggers while he danced with her. Every time she moved around the room, your eyes would follow.” He shrugs his shoulders. “What can I say? I was dateless and bored that night. I had plenty of time to people-watch.”
Fuck.
“Was I that transparent?” I wince.
“Completely fucking see-through.”
Finishing up on my gear, I pull a white towel from the hook set directly in front of me and wrap it around my waist. “I’m taking a shower.”
Mason tips his head at the locker room door. “You aren’t hitting the gym for a cooldown first?”
I’ve never missed a postgame cooldown before.
However, since I don’t have any press responsibilities tonight and all I want to be is back at the hotel so I can dissect the last conversation I shared with Drew some more, I grab my wash bag from the bench and say, “Nah. I didn’t sleep well last night and could use the additional rest.”
Mason looks doubtful. “You aren’t heading out tonight to celebrate a successful away series? Pittsburg has some great places to eat.”
A little like a cooldown, I never miss a night out either, so when, “Nah,” leaves my mouth again, Mason catches me by the arm before I walk away.
“You need to come out tonight. If you don’t, people will start asking questions, especially after the way you’ve dominated the ice this past week.”
I really don’t want to go out tonight, but my teammate is right. It would be weird, and Tristan would likely love that I’m not there.
Releasing a low groan, I give him a tight nod. “All right. I’ll show up. But only for an hour because I’m genuinely fucking exhausted.”