Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHASE
Walking back into my old high school rink was a complete mindfuck.
So much had changed since I’d set foot inside these walls.
The last time I’d been here, I hadn’t been a professional hockey player, Morgan hadn’t had a deadly diagnosis hanging over her head, and I’d still been pretending Addison wasn’t my whole fucking world.
I felt like I’d lived a hundred lifetimes these past twelve years.
Between my sister’s treatments and eventual remission, the trials and tribulations of ten years in the NHL, and the constant push and pull with Addison, so much had changed.
I’d changed.
What I’d once wanted for my life was no longer cutting it.
I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed normal life—something I hadn’t had since I was a kid.
But being here—with Addison, hanging out with Levi, popping over to my parents’ spontaneously, being close enough to see the twins over a short break—had shown me exactly what I’d been missing in Vancouver.
And exactly what I’d be missing when I left.
The rink, recently expanded and refurbished, was now the size of an NHL rink and featured all the upgraded amenities usually only found in professional arenas.
I would’ve killed to practice in a place like this when I was a kid.
The only problem was that the rink was designated almost exclusively for team use.
I loved that the hockey team now had a state-of-the-art facility to practice in, but what about the rest of the town—or even the surrounding towns?
Since the resort’s rink had closed down, local residents no longer had an easily accessed place for recreation, and that killed me.
Especially since the resort was where I’d cut my hockey teeth, first with my dad and then with my friends, honing my skills and learning the game from the ground up.
With my bag slung over my shoulder, I walked toward the lone figure standing near the boards, feeling like I was stepping back in time.
Coach Brower turned and greeted me with a warm smile and a backslapping hug. “Chase. It’s good to have you back, kid.”
“Hey, Coach,” I said, returning the embrace. “It’s good to be back.”
“Thanks for coming. I really appreciate you taking the time.”
“I should be thanking you. I’ve been going stir-crazy, dying to get back on the ice.”
“This your first time out since the injury?” he asked, his brows drawn down as he dipped his gaze to my knee.
“Yep. Been a couple months, so hopefully I don’t make an ass out of myself in front of the team.
” I’d prepped as best as I could, preemptively icing and popping some painkillers to get ahead of any possible repercussions from being out there.
My physical therapist had given me the green light but paired it with strict orders to listen to my body and adjust accordingly.
“I have no doubt you’ll be fine.” Coach chuckled and shook his head. “You sure have come a long way from a small town in Maine, haven’t you, kid? Ten years in the NHL and everything that comes along with it. Must be one hell of a ride.”
Yeah, and sometimes that ride felt like a hundred-foot-drop roller coaster without any guardrails or safety harnesses. “That’s putting it lightly.”
He clapped a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “It’s gotta be difficult where you’re at right now. I know more than most how much injuries can really fuck with your head. But they can also make you appreciate things differently, as long as you’re willing to look.”
Coach was speaking from experience, not just blowing smoke up my ass.
He’d had a career-ending injury in college before he’d even had a chance to be drafted.
And as much as that must’ve sucked for him, altering his plans in the blink of an eye, I couldn’t lie and say I wasn’t grateful for that roadblock.
Because without his guidance and support over my years playing for him, who knew where I’d be now.
The same could be said for me and this injury that just kept on giving. Without it, I wouldn’t have been back in Starlight Cove, winning my girl over and making up for a hell of a lot of lost time.
“I’m getting better at that,” I said.
“I believe it. You never were one to let the obstacles keep you down. Most determined player I’ve ever had the privilege of coaching. Though I do have one this year who’s nipping at your heels.”
“Oh yeah?” I glanced out to the ice and watched the boys practicing breakaway scenarios, my gaze immediately finding the player Coach was talking about. While the whole team looked good this year, there was definitely one who stood out from the rest. “Damn,” I murmured.
“Nolan’s really something, isn’t he? And he’s a freshman. You believe that? Fifteen years old and on the varsity team.”
My eyebrows rose. While a freshman playing varsity wasn’t unheard of, it was definitely unusual for such a young player to be at the level he showcased, especially in our small town where the pool was already tiny. “No shit?”
“Yep. I haven’t seen that much promise in a player in a long time.” He glanced over at me, a brow raised. “Since you, actually.”
“What’re his plans? He thinking about joining a travel team or participating in a development camp where scouts will see him?”
Crossing his arms, Coach blew out a long sigh and shook his head. “Doubt it. It’s him, his little brother, and their mom, and she’s already working two jobs just to make sure Nolan can play for us. Between registration, equipment, and travel fees, the parents have to cough up a pretty penny.”
I was all too familiar with that. While I hadn’t been raised in a single-parent household, money had still been tight.
Though I’d known we weren’t rolling in dough, I definitely hadn’t realized how dire it was until after the fact.
My parents had drained their savings…mortgaged the fucking house, just so I could take advantage of the best hockey development programs available.
My parents had bled themselves dry in the hope of giving me a better future, and I’d never, as long as I lived, forget the sacrifices they’d made to allow me this life.
I was just grateful I’d been able to pay them back for all they’d given me, get them out of the hole they’d found themselves in as a direct result of me.
I hated that hockey cost so damn much. Sometimes I wished success were based solely on the roots of it—playing outside on a rudimentary rink, just a bunch of kids and their sticks having the time of their lives.
Unfortunately, though, without face time at those development programs, the chances of this kid being seen by someone with enough pull to get the NHL interested were slim to none.
Starlight Cove High was at the bottom of hockey hierarchy, a Division III school, and scouts usually didn’t bother with it.
But the thought of this kid’s talents never extending beyond this tiny rink in our tiny town stung.
I pulled out my phone and navigated to the camera app. “Is it all right if I take a video?”
Coach dipped his chin in a nod. “Go for it. They all signed media releases at the beginning of the year.”
After filming Nolan nailing a flawless breakaway goal, I shot off a quick message to the team text thread—my first since arriving in Starlight Cove.
Chase:
Check out the talent on this kid.
Within minutes, my phone was buzzing with responses.
Hawk:
What’s in the fucking water up there? If you hadn’t locked down your spitfire, I’d take a crack at bringing the next generation of hockey royalty into the world with her.
Chase:
Unless you want a beatdown the next time I see you, stop thinking about my girl popping out hockey babies with anyone but me.
My dick twitched in my pants at just the thought, and this was definitely not the appropriate location for any such fantasy, so I shoved that shit down and put a pin in it for later.
Hawk:
A couple months without you and I forgot how feral you are when it comes to her.
Chase:
Happy to remind you anytime.
Toshy:
Shit, the kid’s good. When’s he getting signed?
Chase:
He’s 15, so not for a while…
Hensley:
Goddamn, 15?! Did you see that smooth AF deke? Davies could learn a thing or two.
Davies:
Fuck off, Hensley. But is the kid interested in some one on one time?
Lindy:
The scouting department needs to see that.
And hey, asshole. Respond to my texts once in a while, would you?
I cringed. I’d been avoiding my captain, but I couldn’t bring myself to do anything else.
Not when shit was still up in the air. Not when I didn’t know what my future held.
And sure as hell not when I’d started to second-guess the surgery that would no doubt allow me to get back on the ice.
But the chances of it buying me any more than a single year playing professionally were slim, and it could cost me in the long run.
God knew I had enough scar tissue in that knee already, and any more could make daily life difficult.
Was being able to play for what amounted to a blink of time worth having chronic issues the rest of my life?
I shook those thoughts from my head and pocketed my phone, focusing once again on the kids I was here to see. My shit could wait.
“So, what’s the plan for today?” I asked Coach.
“Honestly? Just have fun. They think we’re having a standard practice today, so they’re going to absolutely lose their minds when they realize you’re here.”
“Looking forward to it,” I said with a grin.
“They’ve lost their last three games, so spirits are a little low.
But every single one of them is a fan. I have no doubt they’ve been following your career for years—probably since they could lace up a pair of skates.
Nolan came to practice one day a couple months back, damn near pissing himself because he said he’d seated you at Ambrosia. ”
“No shit, that was him? Nice kid.” Especially considering how he’d hooked me up that night.