Chapter 3
CHAPTER
THREE
CHANCE
Most athletes have a quirk, something completely inane that they have to do before or after the game to ward off negativity.
My quirk has become a lifestyle.
Every time I do something new, I mark it with time in the rink.
The first time I rode a bike, I went skating immediately after and fell a hundred times more than I did on my bike.
The tradition started then and it didn’t stop.
The skating, not the falling.
Tonight, I’ve put in my time to mark my first day in the Lucky Strikers. As I sit on the bench and swap my skates for sneakers, I feel that familiar buzz. So I sit there and just… bask in it.
For a while after getting kicked out of the league, I had the thought that my time as a professional hockey player was over.
Even if this town isn’t where I want to be, even if none of my teammates want me here, I still feel immensely grateful to have a chance at getting my toe back in the door.
My phone buzzes.
Mom.
I stiffen. My thumb hovers over the answer button but, in the end, I send the call to voicemail. I love my mom, but I already know what she has to say and it’s not a discussion I want to have right now.
Slinging my skates over my shoulder, I head straight for the showers.
Man, this exhaustion is the best kind. No thoughts in your head, no worries, no anxiety. Just the bone-deep contentment of getting in a good workout.
No, it’s more than just a workout.
It’s what the ice does to me. I love everything about hockey. The balance of skating and skill. The plays. The teamwork. The speed of the puck. The juxtaposition of being in the ring. Of fire and ice. Of hot and cold. Of sweat on chilled skin.
It’s like coffee hitting my veins. If I wasn’t so tired, I’d crawl back on the ice for one more sip, but my aching muscles warn me not to do anything that idiotic.
After grabbing a towel, I strip off my hockey gear and whip my shirt off. Passing by the mirror, I notice all the nicks and scars from my years of ice time. Hockey took its chunk of my flesh. I’m still waiting for it to take a few teeth too. It can take all of them if it wants to. I’ll play with dentures.
After the shower, I towel off and change into a simple T-shirt and basketball shorts.
My stomach growls. The steak I spotted in the hotel’s room service booklet is calling my name .
A chirp sounds again.
Mom.
I decide to answer because if I don’t, she’s going to keep calling. Then she’ll send a team out here to check on me and I don’t want that.
“Hey, ma.”
“Darling,” her impatient voice fills my ears, “are you coming to the Children’s Foundation Gala next month? You haven’t sent in your RSVP.”
I sigh heavily and walk outside to my car. “Mom, I’m not available for any social events. I’m focusing on hockey.”
“Chance, do you really need to dedicate all your time to a little rag-tag team in the minors? They’re so far behind, they drafted you in the off season.”
It’s a fair assessment, but it still makes me defensive. “They’re a solid team. With a few tweaks, they could be a real force. And either way, I’m only here temporarily.”
“Oh, honey. I thought the league never lets you back in after they kick you out?”
I cringe because that stings. Hard.
“Don’t worry. I’ll figure it out on my own.”
“But you don’t have to.” I hear the scolding behind her words. “You should come home so we can figure it out together.”
Correction, I should come home so mom and dad can convince me to trade my skates for a suit and tie.
The Lambo dad gifted me unlocks with a chirp and I slip inside. “Fine. As soon as things slow down around here, I’ll pop in for a visit.”
“I’ll see you at the charity gala then?”
Rats. I fell into her trap. Mom is the daughter of an heiress, but that alone didn’t turn her trust fund into the money-printing machine that it is today. She’s diabolically smart.
“I didn’t say that…” I hedge.
“How long will you be on this little hockey team anyway?”
“Mom…”
“Darling, you really should have taken your father’s offer and joined the company. The CFO position was wide open. He had the corner office cleaned and everything. It would have solved all your problems. Those nasty tabloids can’t say anything about a powerful CFO, can they?”
I massage the bridge of my nose. “There are plenty more qualified, experienced people than me who should be the CFO.”
“But they’re not family.” Mom tsks. “Do you know why we’re doing all this? It’s for you and your sister. You’re the ones who’ll be running the company when we’re gone.”
Oh, I hope not. I’d rather run into Gunner and the rest of the welcoming committee in a dark alley in a post apocalyptic earth than spend the rest of my life scribbling my signature on documents for a living.
“Mom, I have to run. I’ll call you later.”
“I’ll see you at the gala. Remember you need to bring a plus one. And not one of those little fan girls who can’t carry a proper conversation either. Someone nice. So… someone you don’t normally date.”
Oof, mom’s on a roll tonight.
“Noted, ma.”
“Love you honey, buh-bye.” She hangs up.
Feeling ten times more exhausted than I did after my training, I start my car and wait for that beautiful purr.
Instead, there’s a sad cough, like the sound of someone holding on to life and losing that battle fast.
“Oh, honey, what’s wrong?” I rub the dashboard. “You’re not feeling well?”
Another attempt at a start.
It chokes again.
I climb out of my car and open the hood, but the cavern is strangely empty. Tired, hungry and getting crankier by the second, I call Max.
He answers on the first ring. “‘Sup, Captain.”
“Max, do you know a mechanic I can call? My car won’t start.”
“Oh no. Do you need a ride? I’m at the Tipsy Tuna with a few business people, but I should be done soon.”
“No, I don’t want to put you out. I just need a mechanic.”
“Gunner’s folks run a mechanic shop. I can call them over?—”
“Nope. I’d rather not mess with anyone related to Kinsey right now. Isn’t there another mechanic in town?” I reach for my fidget spinner and give it a whirl, but my nerves keep getting tangled inside.
“Hold on a second. I think Bobby mentioned someone had just opened…” I hear papers shuffling. “Let me see if I can get in touch with them and I’ll call you back.”
“Thanks.” I huff out a breath and grip the elevated hood again, wishing I knew how to fix a car.
“Need some help?” A soft, feminine voice sounds behind me.
A glance over my shoulder reveals a petite woman with a curly brown ponytail pulled through the back of a baseball cap. She’s wearing a flannel shirt opened on top of a tank top and baggy jeans.
The brim of the cap hides her face but, when she lifts her chin, I crash headfirst into sea-foam green eyes set above a faint sprinkle of freckles that follow right across an adorable nose. When I get enough of counting those freckles, I glance down at her mouth and am totally blown away.
She’s got the face of a fairy with those emerald eyes and delicate cheekbones, and those lips are definitely my wish come true. They’re pink, plump and perfect.
Well, almost perfect. Their only flaw is that they’re not tipped up in a smile.
“Hello?” She plants her hands on her hips. “I asked if you need help.”
I realize I’d been too busy drooling over her face and respond, “No thanks.”
“It looks like your car won’t start.”
I lean against the side of the car. Even if it’s broken, it’s still a luxury car and that usually greases the wheels of every conversation with the opposite gender.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” I flash her a smile that’s been known to cause a swoon or two.
“You’re not from around here, are you?” Her tone has a hint of suspicion.
“Yeah, I’m new. Just rolled in today. Still don’t know my way around.”
She makes a noncommittal sound in her throat.
“Maybe when my car is up and running, you can take me on a tour? Show me around? By the way, my name is?—”
“Are you sure you don’t need my help? Last offer.”
I blink unsteadily.
“Suit yourself.” Without another word, she turns sharply and stalks off.
So… that went well.
As I watch her get into her pickup truck, my phone rings.
“Hey, Max,” I mumble distractedly. “Did you get that mechanic?”
“Yeah,” Max says cheerfully.
My eyes lock on the truck that’s currently speeding toward the exit like the driver wants to run me over, but she’ll settle for the pottery on either side of the ticket booth.
“Like you requested, I got the only other mechanic in town. Well, I asked Bobby to call them. He should be contacting them right about now.”
“Ah, I see.”
The pickup at the gate suddenly stops.
“What’s going on?” I mutter, straightening up and paying close attention.
“Huh?” Max says.
“Nothing.” Perplexed, I notice her brake lights blinking to life.
And then she reverses back to me.
“Later, bro.” I hang up, feeling genuinely excited to see her again and not entirely sure why.
Her window winds down and she peers at me, eyes narrowed and lips pursed as if contemplating whether she should spare the potted plant and return to me as her original target.
“Finally ready to exchange names?” I ask, flashing another, encouraging grin.
“I’ll go first,” she says stiffly.
“Of course. Ladies first.”
She parks the car, shoves her door open and slams to the ground with a huff. “First name—‘your’. Last name ‘mechanic’.”