Chapter 33
CHAPTER
THIRTY-THREE
CHANCE
The next day, we play the Konge Crusaders and wipe the floor with them. Theilan immediately sends out a group text inviting everyone to a local bar to celebrate.
“I’m gonna bow out,” I inform him, stripping off my jersey.
Theilan slams his locker shut and wiggles his eyebrows. “Got other plans?”
“Yeah.”
He narrows his eyes. “What you doing?”
“Calling April.”
Theilan boos. “I thought you were about to say something else.”
“What else would he say?” Gunner grumbles, walking past us in a towel.
A big, mischievous grin cracks Theilan’s face. “Nothing. It’s just… April’s allllllll the way back in town.”
I reach for my gym bag. If I wasn’t surrounded by my teammates, I’d call April immediately. She might be sleeping by the time I get back to the hotel, and the thought of not hearing her voice for a full day sends me into a tiny panic.
Theilan stops me as I turn to the showers. “Are you really staying in and calling your girlfriend tonight?”
I squint at him. “You’d rather I write a letter and send it by carrier pigeon?”
Chuckles break out.
Theilan’s eyes dart around.
We’re on better terms now, but there’s no hiding his desire to compete with me. Being extremely competitive is a hazard of the trade. As athletes, something in our biological code urges us to be the best in the room.
It doesn’t bother me anymore. Theilan and I have found our own rhythm on the ice—which is what matters.
“All you’ve done on this trip is play hockey and chase after April. Were you this lame in the league?”
Watson saunters into the room, scrubbing his damp hair with a towel. “All Renthrow does is play hockey and video chat with his daughter. I don’t see you ragging him about it.”
“Yeah, but that’s his kid. April’s just a girlfriend.”
I slam my locker shut and spin around.
Gunner immediately shoves a sock in Theilan’s mouth. “Shut it if you want to live.”
Theilan spits out the sock. “Did you just?—”
“It’s better than McLanely’s fist.” Watson points out.
I smirk at Watson and Gunner’s protectiveness. Theilan is young, impulsive and looks up to Gunner like the guy’s the town hero. In a sense, I guess he is.
Every time I forget that Gunner’s family is a big deal around Lucky Falls, I see the way everyone defers to him and remember that he’s the small-town version of Prince Harry.
Theilan falls back, but he’s still grumbling. “At least help a brother out and send me her number.”
“Whose number?” I grunt. He better not be talking about April.
“That smoking hot babe who’s been following you around.”
“Did you get a puck to the head?” I scoff. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the blonde who’s been at every game, staring at you the entire time.”
I squint at the bright, fluorescent lights, trying to come up with a visual.
None come to mind.
Gunner gives me a disbelieving look. “Even I noticed her.”
“Does she stand out that much?” I don’t usually look in the crowd during or before games. Unless you count that time I couldn’t stop staring at April.
Gunner nods. “She came up to me at the bar last night and asked why you weren’t at any of the afterparties.”
I frown. “Sounds like a stalker.”
“I’d let her stalk me any day,” Watson coos, reaching over to fist bump Goode, another defender. “The girl’s got some bazookas on her, if you get what I’m saying.”
Deep-throated and appreciative laughter breaks out in the locker room.
I take another step toward the showers. “Even if I did know her, I wouldn’t set any of my female friends up with the likes of you, Theilan.”
Theilan grins. “I don’t need your help.”
“Why’s that?” Watson teases.
“She’s probably heartbroken that McLanely’s not interested. And as a young, single, caring man, I’m going to teach her the best way to get over someone.” Theilan wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.
“My man!” Watson slaps Theilan’s open palm.
Theilan throws one leg over the bench and starts yapping to Watson. “I looked her up, man. Her entire page is just her wearing these tiny little outfits. She’s just my type, super blonde, legs for days, this mmm…” his eyes roll back, “this Russian accent. Can you imagine that accent whispering in your ear?”
I crash to a stop. “Did you say she has a Russian accent?”
“Ring a bell?”
I immediately change directions, heading to my locker instead of the showers.
“What’s up?” Gunner asks, his eyes following me.
The entire locker room goes silent, watching as I yank out my gym bag from the locker and rifle through it.
I feel a calm presence behind me and notice that Renthrow is standing close by, on guard. His hair is damp on his forehead as if he didn’t get a chance to dry it yet. His eyes mirror the same concern in Gunner’s.
Ignoring all of them, I grab my cell phone, open a search engine and tap in the name of an old acquaintance.
There. It is Fina. Her latest posts are selfies taken at my games. She even has a few smeary photos of me on the ice with heart-eyed emojis around my head.
I cringe at the flashy headlines and ugly comments underneath the posts.
Chance looks better with Fina.
Fina, go get him! I’m rooting for you!
Fina and Chance McLanely would be such a power couple.
Renthrow reads over my shoulder. In a low voice, he assures me, “It’s just gossip. It’s not that serious, McLanely.”
I answer him with a grunt.
Gunner mouths to Renthrow, “What’s going on?”
I leave Renthrow to explain, put the phone to my ear and stalk out of the locker room.
“Come on, April, pick up,” I murmur as the phone rings.
The tunnels are packed with crew members.
“Hey, Chance!”
“Chance, great game!”
I rummage up a smile for the staff and duck into an empty room just as April picks up.
“Hey, Chance,” she says.
I sigh in relief. She’s not ignoring my calls. That’s a good sign.
“Did I wake you?”
“No, I’m at the garage.”
I check the time on my phone. “You’re working this late?”
“I couldn’t sleep.” A banging sound punctuates the words. She must have me on speaker.
“Why couldn’t you sleep? Did something happen?”
“No,” she says tightly.
I release a breath.
“How was your game today?” April asks.
“Great. We won.”
“I know. I saw the news.”
“Did you, uh,” I pull my collar away from my neck, “did you read anything else online?”
“Like what?”
“Irrelevant news.”
“Why would I read it if it’s irrelevant?”
Silence rings between us broken only by a loud bang! And the sound of metal dragging on the floor.
“I just… wanted to remind you that you shouldn’t believe everything you see online.”
Bang! Bang! Bang! “I’m not an idiot, Chance. I’m well aware of that.”
I’m not one to hold my tongue. However, I need to be cautious. If April hasn’t seen the articles about Fina, I don’t want to alert her. And if she has, I want to assure her that the pictures are nothing but an empty publicity grab.
The banging stops and April’s voice sounds closer to the phone. “Did you get to celebrate with the team tonight?”
“Absolutely not. I called you right after the game. I didn’t even shower,” I answer firmly.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Shower?” I force a chuckle. “Are you saying I have permission to stink?—”
“You don’t have to report to me after every game.”
I’m so stunned, it takes me a minute to answer.
“I’m not ‘reporting’ to you, April. I enjoy talking to you. There’s no one else I’d rather be speaking with right now.”
“Really? No one else?”
There’s an undercurrent of accusation here.
I’m swimming in dangerous waters.
I lean against the wall and rub my eyes. “You saw the articles about Fina.”
“That Russian social media model who wears bikinis in the winter? Never heard of her.”
“Then how do you know she’s Russian and an underwear model?”
“Maybe I’m a fan.”
“ Are you?”
There’s a long silence.
I break it first. “There’s nothing going on between me and Fina. We hung out once or twice a few years ago, but we were never that serious. I haven’t seen or spoken to her since?—”
“Like I said, you don’t have to explain anything to me.”
“I know it bothers you.”
“It doesn’t bother me.”
“Then why are you in the garage beating the living daylights out of an engine? April, there’s no need to be jealous?—”
“I am not jealous?”
“But you are angry.”
“I’m numb, Chance. Totally and completely numb. I know how men are. I grew up around mechanics and if you think locker room talk is indecent, you haven’t heard a garage full of sweaty, oil-stained men. I told you before that I’m not a dainty little flower. I’m well-aware of the reality of the world. So you don’t have to console me. Whatever you’re doing on the road, it’s none of my business.”
“I haven’t done anything?—”
“Don’t bother. It’s not like I’m there with you to verify anything, so I’d rather we don’t waste each other’s time.”
I really, really don’t like the sound of that.
“I should go. I was just finishing up here,” she grumbles.
“April, wait…”
The phone clicks.
She’s gone.
I drill my thumb into my forehead hard enough to bore a hole in my skull.
The internet is an evil, swirling vortex of gossip, sensationalism and fake news, and none of it ever mattered to me .
Until now.
Because that evil, swirling vortex of gossip matters… to April.