Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Renthrow
Cordelia’s puzzling behavior outside of Phil’s is heavy on my mind as I take Gordie to school and head to the stadium.
Chance and Gunner are already on the ice, warming up with the newbs. The camp is surprisingly well attended. Most of the players are here because they’re Chance fans, but there are a few high-profile college kids in the rounds too.
A part of me is glad that the team is attracting high-quality athletes from outside of town, but another part aches with sadness.
Theilan and Watson are still avoiding the stadium and us. Which is awkward in a town this small.
There were a lot of storm-outs when Chance, Gunner, and I walked into The Tuna, and the team was already seated and eating there. It’s gotten so bad that even Mauve brought it up to me the other day and said we were making the entire town uneasy.
I’m not happy about this rift either, and I’m wondering if the training camp will really kick off without any of the other original members trying out.
Max’s voice draws my attention away from the ice. “Renthrow! Just the man I wanted to see!”
I frown when I notice that Max isn’t alone. Brennon is moving down the stairs with him. The guy’s in a pretentious business suit, complete with the stupid little triangle handkerchief in the pocket.
Why he’s here at a stadium in full New York stock-exchange mode, I don’t know. But the sight of him doesn’t exactly bring up pleasant memories. Especially when I remember that he’s Cordelia’s first love.
Maybe he’s the reason she’s being so standoffish with me? Is she trying to draw a line between us, so Brennon doesn’t mistake us as a couple?
That doesn’t make sense. She was fine when we were pretending to be a thing in front of Brennon yesterday.
Max slaps my shoulder in welcome. “Renthrow, this is Brennon Moreau, a liaison for our new sponsor. Brennon, this is—”
“Mr. Renthrow, good to see you again.” Brennon slips his hand into his pocket instead of offering a handshake.
“Hey,” I say, glad that I don’t have to shake his hand twice.
“You two know each other?” Max glances between us.
“We have a…mutual acquaintance,” Brennon explains.
I smirk at Brennon. “Cordelia invited me to join their dinner yesterday.”
Technically, I invited myself, but who’s going to correct me?
Brennon’s smile is faker than a forward setting up a trick shot. “Delia and I have been out of touch for a while, but seeing her last night, it felt like we never left each other’s sides. Some memories you just don’t forget.”
A dark, pulsing energy swarms my mind. This guy is so dang smug. One good, solid punch and I bet I could set him straight.
Max laughs nervously. “I look forward to working with you, Brennon. And everyone”—Max gives me a pointed look—“on the team will be at your service. You need anything, let us know.”
All the paperwork and red tape Max has to deal with as a manager must be messing with his head. I signed up to play hockey. Not to schmooze with Cordelia’s first love.
Brennon laughs. “I don’t need the team’s help in the office, but maybe outside of it…”
“What do you mean?”
“I’d love to gear up and get on the ice sometime.”
I keep my focus on him. “You play hockey?”
“I dabbled in high school.”
“I’m up for it.” I glance at Brennon. “Anytime.” The words aren’t delivered like a friendly offer for a game. It’s more like a threat.
“I might not look it, but I made varsity as a sophomore,” Brennon informs me, lifting his chin a notch.
Laughing in his face would be rude…wouldn’t it?
“Wow. Well, don’t go easy on me, Moreau.” I step closer until I’m almost nose to nose with the schmuck. “Because I won’t go easy on you.”
Max looks stressed enough to hyperventilate. “Okay, great. Thanks for that, Renthrow. Brennon, I’ll have Bobby escort you to your car.” He steers the other man away from me while yelling, “Bobby!”
I watch Max scurry off with Brennon, my blood boiling. When is that guy leaving town? How much longer is he going to be lurking around Cordelia?
I change into my gear and meet Chance and Gunner on the ice.
Chance notices my clenched fists. “You good?”
“Never better,” I grumble.
“I’m guessing you know the new suit?” Gunner juts his chin toward where Max and Brennon stood talking to me a few minutes ago.
“Cordelia does.”
“Ah.” Chance’s concerned expression is shattered by a grin.
Gunner grunts. “Say no more.”
“It’s not like that.”
My teammates shrug.
Chance nods. “Of course, it’s not like that.”
I scowl at them and then start stretching.
“Before practice, I wanted to run something by you guys.” Chance gestures for us to skate to the other end of the ice on the opposite side of the group. When we’re out of earshot of the others, he explains, “I heard Theilan’s getting scouted by another team.”
“What?” My eyes bug.
“Where’d you hear that?” Gunner demands.
“I still have contacts in the agency I fired.”
I adjust my helmet. “I’m worried about those guys.”
“Contracts are scary if you don’t know what you’re doing, and the people sniffing around Theilan aren’t known for putting the players’ best interests first.”
“Theilan’s still young,” Gunner rasps. “And now, he’s angry.”
“It’s one thing if they want to leave the Lucky Strikers, but if they’re doing it just to spite Max, they might get hurt in the process.” I blow out a breath. “We can’t wait around anymore. We gotta move before this gets out of hand.”
“The problem is…they won’t join the camp. And Max won’t let them on without the training.” Chance sighs. “He’s not changing his mind about it.”
“He feels bad for letting them go, but he also thinks it’s the right thing to do. Feels like I’m talking to a brick wall when I bring it up,” Gunner mumbles.
“Then maybe we stop talking,” I advise.
Chance narrows his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t think a fistfight is going to solve this.” Gunner punches one hand into his gloves. “But I’m down to try.”
“I don’t mean a fistfight. What does everyone on the team have in common?”
“Shockingly…all their teeth?” Chance supplies.
“A terrible taste in pranks?” Gunner offers.
“Hockey.” I give them both “what’s wrong with you?” looks. “This is the only stadium in Lucky Falls. And if they haven’t been here, they haven’t been playing. I bet they miss it. I know I would.”
Chance lights up. “We get them on the ice, and they’ll cave.” He taps his stick, indicating the ice beneath our skates. “She’ll argue better than we can.”
“The problem is…how do we get them to gear up when they won’t come near the stadium?”
I look at Gunner. “We need an excuse that none of them can resist.”
“How about Gordie?” Chance asks.
“That’s not a bad idea.”
“I’m not offering my daughter as bait.”
“Theilan and Watson would die for Gordie. There’s no one on this team who can say no to her. If she wants to see her uncles play a game, they’ll gear up no matter how they feel.”
“You make a good point.”
“Great. I’ll set it up,” Chance says, grinning wildly.
“McLanely, Kinsey, Renthrow! You guys painting your nails over there? Let’s go!” the new coach yells.
The three of us break our huddle and get to work.
But, just before we start our drills, I pull Chance aside. “Hey, I want to make a slight change to the plan.”
“What change?” he asks.
I look through the door where Cordelia’s childhood friend walked out a few minutes ago. “I want to add one more player.”
I pick Gordie up from school around 4 p.m. As usual, I watch her face carefully. Ever since “the incident,” I hold my breath when I join the school pick-up line, wondering if something triggered an episode during school hours.
Thankfully, she hasn’t gone into that state since the day Cordelia joined her under the table. Today, she seems like her normal, upbeat self.
“Daddy, I have to do my booklet today.” Gordie pouts. “Please, can we go to the garage?”
“You have an appointment, sweetheart. You need to talk to Mrs. Raina about how you’re feeling this week.”
“But I feel fine,” Gordie grumbles, sinking into the backseat.
“Daddy wants to make sure you continue feeling fine.” I glance at her in the rearview mirror. “But I’ll take you to the garage after.”
“Yay!” Gordie cheers, and then she plays with the motorcycle toy that Cordelia gave her and chats with me all the way to the hospital.
I remain outside the counseling room during the session with her therapist.
After, Mrs. Raina calls me inside.
“How’d it go today?” I ask, leaning forward.
Mrs. Raina pats the coloring book that doubles as Gordie’s journal. Everything inside me wants to flip through the pages, but the psychologist cautioned that having a private coloring book is good for Gordie, so I can’t see it yet.
“She’s making progress.” The older woman beams at me. “May I ask, though, Mr. Renthrow, do you ride motorcycles?”
“Me? No.” Cordelia’s beautiful face comes to mind. “But we know someone who does.”
Mrs. Raina bobs her head as if that explains a personal mystery.
“Is… she drawing motorcycles in her book?” I jut my chin at the journal.
Mrs. Raina holds it close. “Yes.”
“And… is the fact that she’s drawing motorcycles good?”
“Good and bad are hard to tell in the present.”
Lady, I need more than that. My daughter’s life and health are at stake.
“What seems good to us now may actually be very harmful. And what feels painful now, may be very good. You can only view what’s truly good and what’s truly bad in the rearview mirror of time.”
“If something hurts my daughter now, I want to know now. Not in the future,” I say firmly.
“I understand, Mr. Renthrow. And to answer your question, the motorcycles seem like a new, positive development.” The therapist taps the book twice. “But with attachment disorders, we have to be careful and observant with everything.”
I blow out a worried breath.
“Gordie knows she has her father in her corner. The fact that you bring her here faithfully every week is already helping her. Being patient when she can’t articulate her feelings is helping her, as well.”
“I just want her to be okay,” I whisper roughly.
“With time, I believe she will be.” The psychologist pats my hand and then waves to my daughter. “See you next week, Gordie!”
“Bye!” Gordie waves back. “Daddy, can we go see Delia now?”
“I don’t know.” I tap my chin, pretending to consider it.
“Daddy, you promised. And you said we always keep our promises.”
I swing my precious little girl into my arms. “Alright, pumpkin. I’ll keep my promise. Let’s go see Delia.”