Chapter 14
Landon
Practice early the next morning is mostly drills, no scrimmage, but Coach has me run plays with the second line and the third.
The third. My heart spends most of practice in my skates after that.
It probably doesn’t help that I’m acting like Grady is made of asbestos or something.
I’m talking to him, when it would be awkward not to, but I’m giving him a wide berth.
Like I sat clear on the other end of the breakfast room at the hotel this morning.
On Quake road trips during playoffs, Grady and I always sat together at meals, and on planes and buses. Always.
No one here knows how weird I’m acting, thankfully.
Well, Grady knows. He frowned when I skated wide around his net.
So wide I almost clipped the boards with my shoulder and narrowly missed colliding with one of our assistant coaches.
I’m such a coward. Why can’t I just own my behavior?
I fooled around with Grady. It was… one of the best sexual experiences of my life. So why do I regret not regretting it?
After practice and gym time and showers and a quick meeting with the coaches to review video footage of our opponent’s last couple of games, we hop on a bus back to the hotel, and I’m immediately intercepted by Kendra Jackson.
She’s the head of Public Relations for the team.
I didn’t know she would be in Boston, so I’m shocked to see her block my path in her jeans and blazer, and aggressive-looking high-heeled booties that make her almost as tall as me. “Hey, Kendra.”
“I need you and the Ginger Garrison to film those Fun Fact segments now. Where is he?”
I look around the lobby at the other guys heading up to their rooms. I catch sight of Grady lumbering toward the elevator and point.
“Garrison!” Kendra hollers, and he stops and turns around.
She jerks her thumb, and he walks over. “You ghosted me at the home arena, so I was forced to follow you here. I need these segments up on the website asap. Everyone is asking about you two. Fans are rabid for info, so we’re giving it to them. ”
“Right now?” Grady almost whines.
“Yes. Now. I promise it will be relatively quick and only painful if you don’t act like you’re thrilled to be here,” Kendra explains as we follow her down a hallway off the lobby. “Fans want you to be cheerful and funny and happy to be here.”
“I can do that,” I say, but honestly, with Grady sitting beside me, it’ll be a stretch.
“Yeah. I know the drill,” Grady grumbles. “You don’t want us to do it separately?”
“No,” Kendra says flatly. “You two had all this juju in your playoff run for that other team. Fans are gushing about your bromance on our Instagram, so we will give the people what they want. Bromance the fuck out of each other.”
My eyes move to Grady, and he’s staring right back at me.
We start blushing simultaneously, but luckily, Kendra is walking too far ahead to notice.
She lifts her hand and snaps her fingers.
“Let’s hustle! I know you guys need snacks and naps, like toddlers, so the quicker we get this done, the quicker you get out of here. ”
She’s set up a conference room with a Riptide backdrop and two stools that I think she stole from the lobby bar. There are four ring lights positioned on tables around the setup. She motions for us to sit and pulls out her phone. She pauses and smiles. “Let’s go.”
It’s easy at first. She asks us to introduce ourselves, talk about our start in hockey, and why we picked out our numbers. Our favorite memory so far in our career—and of course, we both say winning the Cup. Kendra pauses. “Landon, I thought it would be beating cancer.”
Something in me deflates like a slashed tire.
I stare at her, not knowing the polite way to answer that.
What I want to ask is why the fuck would a nearly terminal disease be my favorite moment of anything, let alone my career?
But of course I can’t. She’s still recording, still waiting for an answer.
Fucking hell. I choose my words as carefully as possible. “That’s not really a highlight. And I don’t think of it in relation to my career. It would have happened if I was an accountant or a school bus driver. I was just lucky enough to end up in remission.”
“Yeah, but you wouldn’t have won the Cup if you hadn’t beaten it, right? So it’s gotta factor into it.” She’s not getting the mood shift she’s creating.
My jaw clenches, and I feel Grady shift beside me. He clears his throat. “I wouldn’t have won the Cup if I hadn’t been traded to the Quake mid-season. There are so many what-ifs on the way to a Stanley Cup, which is why getting to win it is the only highlight.”
Kendra blinks, finally cluing in to what an idiot she’s being.
She looks instantly remorseful and stops filming.
I hope she edits that out before she posts to socials.
If she doesn’t, I’m sure the comments section will be nothing but cancer talk.
I fucking hate how it’s still trying to hijack my life.
Kendra walks over to one of the tables, her heels clicking rhythmically, and grabs paper and Sharpies, then hands them to us. “Okay, now we’re going to play a game.”
She walks back a couple of feet to stand in front of us again and holds up the phone. “Everyone loves how well you two play together. So let’s see how well you know each other off the ice.”
Well, I’ve made him come while fucking my girlfriend, so we know each other pretty damn well, Kendra, I think to myself, and try to ignore the fact that it feels like Grady is staring at me and thinking the exact same thing.
Kendra explains we’re going to play a version of the Newlywed Game where she asks us questions about each other, and we have to write down what we think the answer is, and then the person gives it.
She asks Grady what my dad’s position was when he played.
Easy. Then she asks me what town the Garrison family is from. Piece of cake.
The questions get progressively more obscure, but no matter what it is, we both get every answer right.
Everything from what’s my favorite color (Grady correctly guesses green) to my favorite off-season hobby (making sandwiches) to his middle name (Talbot, after his mom’s maiden name) to what Grady’s hobby is (collecting vintage sunglasses, duh).
By the tenth and final question, Kendra is grinning in appreciation.
“I can’t believe you two didn’t miss one!
You guys are actually best friends, aren’t you? ”
“He’s definitely the person I’m closest to in the league,” I say without hesitation. “He’s the best.”
Kendra looks at Grady. He looks a little dumbfounded as he stares at me, but then he blinks and grins and jokes, “I’m just hanging around so he makes me one of his gourmet sandwiches.”
Kendra and Landon laugh, and so do I, as I reach out and shove him playfully. It’s nice to have this moment where what we did forty-eight hours ago doesn’t matter. Now, how do we hold onto that forever?
Kendra stops recording. “See, guys? Painless. Thanks for that. Have a good game tomorrow night.”
She dismisses us with a wave of her hand and starts taking everything down. I follow Grady out of the room. We make our way to the elevators and up a floor to the banquet room, where the hotel has set up lunch.
I tell myself I need to sit next to Grady, to prove to him and myself that I can make this right again.
But Conner pulls Grady aside outside the room, and they stay huddled over Conner’s phone, smiling and talking in a low whisper for almost ten minutes.
Family stuff, I guess. I’ve heard of the Garrison Family Group Chat and how crazy it gets from Tate.
So because I’m hell bent on trying to continue being normal around him, I window shop the plethora of soups, salads, pasta dishes, grilled chicken, and a few premade sandwiches. I grab a plate.
“Sandwich time?” I hear from behind me.
“You know me so well,” I smirk. I love me a good sandwich. It’s a bad obsession during the season because of the heavy calories most breads have, but I allow myself one a week. And my only hobby is trying new sandwich recipes from the internet or tinkering in the kitchen, concocting my own.
As I look over their sandwich options, Grady fills a plate with two different salads, a chicken breast, and a side of pesto pasta.
I pick a crispy prosciutto sandwich with tomato, arugula, provolone cheese, and pesto mayo.
I also grab a bit of the Greek salad and two Gatorades, one for each of us.
I find Grady standing by the door instead of at a table.
“I’m gonna eat in my room. Got some apartments to look at. ”
“Yeah, I should go to mine and call Angie,” I say, then follow him out of the room.
We get into the elevator again, but I don’t punch the button for my floor after he punches his. “Want me to hit your floor?”
“Oh. What?” I blink and feel heat crawling up my neck. “I thought… that we could eat together in your room. And talk. I thought the apartment thing was a lie.”
Grady’s eyes narrow, and then he lets out a breath. “No. I mean… of course you can eat with me. I just didn’t think you’d want to be alone with me.”
“Dude.” I sigh. So much for holding onto the normalcy. “I don’t have anything against you. You did nothing wrong.”
“Neither did you,” Grady says as I step into the hall beside him.
We walk toward his room in silence, and as I stare and the burgundy and gold design on the lush carpet I’m standing on, it hits me that he’s absolutely right.
I didn’t do anything wrong. I had a sexual encounter with two willing people.
The end. So what if one of them was my favorite teammate?
There’s no need for shame or awkwardness, so why does my brain insist on lobbing those emotions at me like grenades?