Chapter 22
. . .
Will
Other than the Scorpions, the New York Blades have dominated the NHL for well over a decade, the Cup often passing from one team to the other, one season to the next.
Toronto aside, I was destined to be drafted to the Blades and play for the team my dad helps coach. Tonight’s game has only solidified those feelings.
It would’ve been less painful to lie down on the ice and let the Zamboni flatten me because I’ve barely seen the puck for the first two periods, and as I switch out on a line change and make eye contact with Tristan, I know my teammate has zero intention of playing as an actual team.
Fucking fine. I’ll score my own goddamn goals.
The Blades are on a power play, thanks to a stupid and out-of-character challenge from Silas, but as the puck spills free from the boards and Mason picks it up, I find myself in more space than usual.
Perhaps the four-to-zero lead the Blades have has gone to their heads, and they’ve neglected to remember that I’m on the roster.
Mason wastes no time shooting a pass to me, which is perfectly placed to take in my stride.
A bit like our team, the Blades’ weakest link is their goalie since they never replaced the talent and consistency of Archer Moore, who retired from pro hockey when I was in my sophomore year in college.
I know Dad will be watching my every move, but like a true professional, he’ll want his goalie to come out on top.
Too fucking bad. He commits before I do, diving to his right and presenting me with the easiest finish I’ll likely have all season. I let the puck slide over the line while I skate across to the Rogues’ fans who traveled to watch tonight’s shit show.
At least I’ve given them something to cheer about.
It’s four to one with only two minutes left on the timer. We’ve lost, but I celebrate with the crowd like we just made it to the playoffs.
“You’re a freaking phenomenon, man.” Mason wraps his arm around my shoulders, and we bump helmets. “A future Hall of Famer, for sure.”
Within a couple of seconds, most of the team is circled around me. I should really be celebrating with them and not breaking away to head for the VIP area, which is conveniently located at ice level.
I can feel every pair of eyes on me—at least twenty thousand—as I pull off my left glove and glide my hand along the plexiglass, throwing up ice when I pull up in front of where she’s sitting.
It’s fucking idiotic and totally on brand for me when I make direct eye contact with Drew.
Goddamn, she looks beautiful today. Dressed in a light-blue suit, she’s styled her hair in loose waves that fall down her back.
“Come here.” I beckon with my fingers.
She scowls at me, but I see the faintest smile that tries to break free.
Drew shakes her head at me and mouths, No, which only spurs me on.
Arms folded over her chest, she finally yields and stands, approaching the plexiglass with a stern look.
Because I promised Mason I’d join him for drinks tonight, this will probably be the only time I get to see her. She’ll likely be working all night to prepare for tomorrow’s meeting with Repeet.
The crowd is loud, and I know I’m around ten seconds from picking up a minor penalty for delaying the game.
Whatever. We’ve lost anyway.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
I can’t hear her, but after years of playing and watching hockey in deafening arenas, I’m good at reading lips.
“That goal was for you,” I yell back.
The pink staining her cheeks tells me that she understood, but then she claps and motions toward a small group of Rogues’ fans.
“It’s for them,” she volleys back.
Pushing off the boards, I glide backward toward center ice, shaking my head and chewing on the corner of my mouth guard.
She can deny and deflect all she wants. But that goal, right there, was for my girl.
“You realize that the Blades regularly hit up this bar after games,” I tell Mason when he sets another pint of IPA in front of me.
Apparently, now that I play for the Rogues, I’m more careful with my public image and less cautious about my liver.
Taking a seat next to me in the booth, he knocks his glass against mine. “I do. And you realize that you slurred at least three words in your last sentence.”
From opposite us, Tristan snorts a laugh, and I glare at him.
“I’m not waishted.”
“Ha!” Silas blurts out, and Mason slumps back in the booth, grinning at me.
At least he’s smiling tonight, even if it is at my expense.
The pint I’m holding is my third of the night. I’m definitely going to pay for it in the morning if I finish this drink.
“I feel honored that you’re making a rare exception and drinking beer with me.” Mason chuckles while Tristan watches me from over the rim of his glass.
“You act like he’s the league’s golden boy.” Tristan nods his head at Mason.
The defenseman picks up his beer, taking a big pull and setting the glass back down on the table. None of us should be drinking tonight, and we all know it.
“I mean, is he not? Our boy here is the second-highest goalscorer in the league this season despite us losing more games than we’ve won.”
Tristan’s face contorts, and I celebrate by taking a mouthful of beer.
“It’s only November. Let’s see how his goal record stacks up in April.”
Silas clears his throat and looks between me and my asshole teammate. “Did you two break each other’s heart in another life or something? Because I’m getting tired of the petty gibes. They’re getting old real fast.”
“You know who else looks tired of your antics, Will?” Tristan smirks at me, and I know exactly what’s coming. “Your publicist.” He scratches at his temple, confused. “What the fuck was that celly all about?”
Mason shifts an inch in his seat. He’s the only one sitting at this table who knows about the crush I have on Drew, and to his credit, he hasn’t breathed a word about it to anyone.
“And here I was”—I grin back at Tristan—“thinking you’d be more concerned over me pulling away from you in the goal rankings.” I take another sip of beer. “Does it bother you when I interact with my publicist?”
Tristan scoffs and sits back in the booth, arms folded across his chest in a defensive stance. “I’m just pointing out that you guys seem to be pretty close for only having a working relationship.”
“Will and Drew have been friends for years.” Mason immediately comes to my rescue, resting his tatted forearms on the table.
“You guys play for the Rogues, right?” A blonde girl wearing a short black dress and sky-high heels approaches our table, closely followed by her brunette friend. She’s wearing a similar type of dress but in light blue.
Normally, based on the way the brunette is looking at me, I’d be sure that the night is ending with her riding my dick. But today, that same thought couldn’t feel further from the truth.
I’m going home alone tonight.
“We do,” Mason confirms with a flirtatious edge to his tone.
I guess now that he’s separated, he’s free to do whatever he wants, but, wow, hooking up tonight would be fast.
“Can we join you?” The blonde’s eyes drop to the space beside Mason and Silas.
My captain clears his throat and pushes his beer away. “No offense, girls, but I was actually planning to call it a night.” He tips his chin toward me, Mason, and Tristan. There’s a warning in his gaze not to let tonight get too late or wild. “So, I’ll leave you in the safe hands of my boys here.”
I know for a fact that Tristan is single, so when he says, “And I don’t want to be presumptuous, but my new girlfriend probably wouldn’t appreciate me hanging out with two beautiful women. However, this guy?” He points at me. “Well, we know he loves all the female attention.”
I want to annihilate him.
The brunette’s eyes light up, and—
Fuck, get out of this one, Will.
Five minutes later, I’ve got Ashley—the brunette who won’t stop talking about how her ex-boyfriend cheated on her last summer—sitting in my lap and a smug Tristan opposite me with his phone out in front of him.
I swear to God, if he’s taking pictures, I’ll crush him against the boards next practice.
To my left, Mason has his hands all over the blonde while he talks directly into her ear.
I nudge him in the side. “Should I make myself scarce from our hotel room tonight?”
The blonde pulls out her phone and snaps a picture of her kissing his jaw, immediately posting it to her socials.
My roommate is hammered, although I see the look of uncertainty in his eyes. He knows he’s effectively putting the final nail in the coffin with Eloise.
“Where will you two go?” His eyes flick to Ashley as she talks with her friend about the story she just uploaded to Instagram.
All I want to do is slide this girl off my lap and make a beeline for Drew’s hotel room. I don’t care if we drink hot chocolate and watch Viking programs all night, so long as I’m near her and she knows that the girl in front of me never made it to my bed.
“I’m not taking her home.”
“Wait, what?!” Ashley’s head snaps to me, brows pulled together in confusion. “I thought we were going to hook up tonight.”
I don’t need to see him to know the dark laugh echoing behind Ashley belongs to Tristan.
I shake my head and slide out from beneath her. “I don’t know where you got that idea from, but it isn’t happening.”
She points to my lap. “Um … I guess I kind of got that impression when you let me sit on you.”
Ashley has a point, and if my fucking teammate laughs one more time, then I’m going to throat-punch him.
“I’m kind of seeing someone.”
Fuck. I said it.
Mason’s attention snaps to me. “You are?”
“I’m sure she’ll be really chill over you getting into it with me tonight,” Ashley snaps at me. “Once a playboy, always a playboy.”
The beer sitting in my gut rolls around, and I pull my phone from my pocket, opening my latest messages to Drew. They were all sent after the game, and she still hasn’t replied to any of them.
Me
You looked stunning, and I couldn’t help the celebration.
You’re mad at me, aren’t you?
If I come to your room tonight, will you answer?
Don’t ignore me. I bought you a fruit basket and champagne.
Here’s a picture of me. Dressed to head out for a night with my teammates when all I can think about is spending it with you.
I should take her silence as a hint and let her cool off ahead of tomorrow’s meeting.
That’s definitely what I should do.
Me
I don’t know if you’re asleep, but in around twenty minutes, there will be four knocks on your suite door, and they will all belong to me.