11. Luke
CHAPTER 11
LUKE
F unny how nerves can take on a mind of their own. I feel like I’ve handled my return to hockey fairly well for the most part. Practices have gone smoothly. Despite the initial aches and pains of getting back into shape, I’m almost performing at the same level I was before I left. Even filling the role of captain is becoming more…comfortable.
On that count, Derek was right. Time has shown the guys they can trust me. Well, almost all of them. Jayce and one of the other rookies still seem to have a bone to pick with me, but I never expected to get along with all of my teammates. All that matters is that we operate as a team.
But now it’s getting real. We’re boarding the bus that will take us to Jacksonville to play against the Icemen. I keep telling myself it’s only a preseason game—simply a warmup for the season…like practice. The coaches have already seen me on the ice, and my performance during scrimmages has gone well—almost as if I never left the game.
Yet, I can’t seem to bring myself to do the simple act of climbing those steps. I started to, then made the excuse that I needed to use the restroom, which wasn’t a lie. Splashing some cold water on my face helped .
But this is no scrimmage against my teammates. These games set the tone for the rest of the season and help our coaches strategize and make crucial roster decisions.
I don’t want Gabe to regret his decision to bring me on the team. And as captain, I don’t want to let the guys down either.
My phone sits on the counter like a ticking time bomb. Somehow, I have to pull myself together in five minutes to board that bus. I’m tempted to call Kinsley, but I know her. She’s already worried about asking me for too much help as it is. If I share this with her, she’ll quit school and give up on her dream. And I can’t let her do that.
My hands shake as I dry my face with a wad of coarse paper towels. I practice the breathing technique I found online. Inhale for four, hold for seven, exhale for eight. Inhale…hold…exhale. And repeat.
Seems easy enough. My heart slows, and the pressure in my chest lifts. It’s working. Now, if I can drag myself onto the bus and keep breathing…
I pocket my phone, intending to leave the restroom, but the restroom door flies open, and Jayce walks in appearing as anxious as I just felt.
He swallows, then bypasses me to one of the stalls and slams the door shut. Next thing I hear is retching.
For a brief moment, I consider leaving to give him some privacy. But something in my gut says I should stay. I wait for Jayce to emerge, which he finally does, looking less green.
He doesn’t meet my gaze. Just heads to the sink to rinse his mouth and splash water on his face.
“You okay, man?”
He lifts his eyes and looks at my reflection in the mirror. “Yeah, I’m great.”
I allow a tight grin in reaction to his sarcasm. “You’ll be fine. The first game is always the hardest.”
Mostly true. I’ll spare him the rest, as I don’t think he needs more pressure than he’s already feeling .
Indecision scatters across his expression as he dries his face with those course brown paper towels. “Did you puke before your first game?”
I nod. “And the next three. It gets easier.”
He’s thoughtful at first, but then his facial features relax. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” I pause, considering what I’m about to say. “If it happens again, come find me. I’ll, uh, talk you through it.” I hold the door open.
“Yeah, okay.” He tucks his chin and rushes out.
I take a moment to consider the irony of the situation—me trying to pull myself together and then winding up giving Jayce a pep talk. Or is that hypocrisy? Because I’m feeling like a hypocrite at this point. If I can’t get my act together, what message will I send to Jayce and the other rookies?
As I walk down the hallway, Sophie exits the women’s room. Seeing her shifts something in me for the better. I can’t describe it—I only know I need it desperately right now, as if she’s some kind of lifeline for me.
The pull to her lengthens my strides until I catch up with her at the exit. I reach my arm out ahead of her to open the door, but my sudden movement startles her, and she jumps back.
“Sorry. I thought you heard me come up behind you.”
She holds a hand over her chest. “It’s okay. Guess I was just lost in my thoughts.”
A breeze wafts through the open door, lifting her floral scent to my nose. I instinctively inhale and find the effect settling. Her presence seems to calm the raging battle in me despite seeming somewhat unsettled herself.
Is that because I startled her or because of something else? “Ready to tackle that interview?”
Her eyes widen for a second, which is impressive since I didn’t think they could get any bigger than they already are. “ Are you?”
I’m so distracted by the way the sunlight hits her irises, bringing out the nuances of rich browns and a touch of gold around her pupils, that I have to remind myself to speak. I clear my throat. “I read over your questions last night.”
One brow lifts to match the tilt of her mouth on that side. “Color me surprised.”
If pink is the color of her surprise, she’s wearing a ton of it today. I didn’t know there was such a thing as pink jeans, with tiny yellow flowers and green leaves dotted all over them. At first glance, her top appears white, but compared to the white doorframe, the fabric has a slight blush. Her slip-ons are dark pink canvas, and her small suitcase is hot pink—the kind that makes finding your bag at the airport a lot easier than the usual black, blue, or gray.
The only thing she’s wearing, or rather carrying that’s not pink, is that bag of hers. All brown leather except for the pink tassel. I’m guessing she added that herself.
And let’s not forget the adorable pink blush rising up her cheeks as I study her.
I clear my throat. “Sorry. I’ve never met anyone who seems to love pink as much as you do.”
She grins. “Guess I never lost my childhood crush on the color.”
The bus horn sounds. Gabe waves at us from the door. My heart starts to race again, and my chest tightens. The back of my neck feels hot, and I feel sweat trickle down my back.
Sophie touches my arm. “Hey, are you okay?”
I snap my gaze to hers. If I tell her the truth, will she include that detail in her article about me? I can see the headline now…
Sun Kings Captain About to Sink Ship
“Yeah, I’m good. Just in a rush. We better get on the bus.”
Once she clears the door, I measure my strides so she can board first. Part of me hopes Gabe forgot about the interview or that there are no more seats together, sparing me the need to conceal my anxiety over this game. I hope that’s all this is and doesn’t become a pattern. The other part of me wants to sit with her because of the relaxing effect she has on me, which is odd considering how much I dislike reporters.
But Sophie says she’s a photojournalist. I’m still fuzzy on the difference.
She hands her suitcase to Derek, who loads it into the storage areas of the bus.
Gabe points to the seats behind the driver. “Saved those for you two.”
Great. Guess I get to see how good of an actor I can be.
Sophie takes the window seat and sets her bag down by her feet. Grateful for the leg room, I take the one next to the aisle.
Neither of us says a word until the bus merges onto the interstate. My nerves are still on edge, but the warmth of Sophie’s shoulder against my bicep has given me something to focus on.
She reaches into her bag. “I’m sure you’re anxious to take your nap, so I’ll get my notes, and we can start.”
Not as anxious as I was, thanks to her. I nod, then glance across the aisle. Gabe grins and gives me two thumbs-up. He may be a friend, but right now, he’s my coach, so I’ll do my best to behave.
Sophie flips her notebook open to the page she showed me in her makeshift office. “Okay, we covered the first three or four questions…”
I point to the fifth one. “Start there.”
She lifts those big browns of her to stare at me. “Are you trying to commandeer my interview?”
“Not at all. That’s where we left off. Like I said, I read over your questions last night, so I’d be prepared as you suggested. And that’s where we left off. Just being helpful.”
“You like being helpful, don’t you?” She tilts her head, waiting for my answer.
The intensity of her gaze makes it hard to breathe. I guess it could be from the anxiety I’m battling, but this feels different. “I suppose. Yeah. Sometimes, it seems necessary.”
“I assumed you deemed these interviews unnecessary .”
Is she teasing me? “Did you just admit to assuming ?”
“Yes, I did. Care to comment?” She looks down at her notebook as she flips to a blank page, pen poised to write.
I try to suppress my smile as I shake my head. “Not at all.”
“All right then. Let’s get started.
She starts with my stats while playing with the Barracudas, then transitions to joining the Sun Kings. No questions about my mother’s accident or leaving hockey to take care of my sister. It’s strictly about the game, the team, and my expectations for the season. The more I talk, the more relaxed I feel, as if talking things out helps relieve whatever’s causing me to feel anxious.
Thirty minutes later, she snaps shut her notebook, drops it into her bag, and plucks out another book.
“What’s that?”
“A book. Ever read one?”
My chuckle comes naturally. “Yes, many, in fact. I just wasn’t sure if it was something to do with your interview.”
“Nope, we’re all done. You can go to sleep now.” She flips it open to her bookmark and starts reading.
Well, okay, then. Guess that’s my cue to leave her alone. I hunker down in my seat, crossing my arms over my chest and my ankles in the aisle. And I may have intentionally nudged her arm as I did this—perhaps my way of settling the score between us.
And she may have pushed back, biting her bottom lip as she did and appearing more impish than my senses can take, so I close my eyes.
But it’s the warmth of her arm against mine that sends me over the edge into a peaceful sleep.
The lurch of the bus stopping and the sounds of shuffling feet bring me to the first level of awareness. Next comes Coach’s instructions about taking the evening to relax, curfew, and pregame practice in the morning.
Then, I notice a warm pressure against my left arm. I glance over to see Sophie’s book lying open in her lap and her head snuggled against me. And she’s still asleep.
I should shift so she knows we’re here, but I can’t stop studying how her dark lashes rest on her cheek and the way the sunlight streaming through the window makes her hair glossy all over like black silk.
The guys are ready to file off the bus, so I slide my ankles in and bend my knees, careful not to disturb her. Ethan stops next to me and places a hand on my shoulder.
I look up and raise my brows in question.
He points to Sophie and raises his.
Not entirely sure what he’s asking, I gesture with my right hand to point out the obvious more so—she’s asleep against me, and I’m trying not to wake her yet.
My movement stirs her, but instead of sitting up, she snuggles in more, rubbing her face against my sleeve. I try not to smile, but I think I’m failing.
Ethan snorts and keeps going. I bite down on my bottom lip to stop the laugh building in my gut. Not at her, per se, but more like delight in how adorable she looks.
And how nice she feels against me.
I may need to do those breathing exercises again.
Her eyelashes flutter just before she jerks away from me. “What…” She grabs her book before it tumbles to the floor of the bus. “Are we there yet?”
I slide upright in my seat, still taking in every bit of her as she tries to wake up and fighting my wandering thoughts. Is this what she looks like in the morning? And why does that question ignite a longing inside of me to see this every single day?
I stand up so she can get out of the aisle. “Just arrived.”
She blinks up at me and points to my arm. “Sorry about that.”
I track where she’s pointing and find two black smudges on my sleeve. Mascara, I’m guessing.
“It’s an old shirt.” One of my favorites, too, but I secretly hope the stains don’t wash out.
“That’s good, I guess.” Still sleepy, she stuffs her book into her bag and slings it over her shoulder. I continue to block the aisle so she can get out, ignoring Jayce’s impatient sigh coming from behind us.
We spend the next few minutes grabbing our bags and duffels as they’re unloaded from the bus while Gabe and Derek check us all in.
Once inside, the coaches reiterate their instructions and hand out our room key cards. Judging by the way Ethan and Payton stepped back from the group with their heads tipped toward each other and their voices at whisper level, they’re definitely up to something.
They stare at me and grin.
Time to make a run for it. I head toward the elevators just as the doors close on several of my teammates and Sophie. She really did look like an imp standing among a bunch of giants. My impatience for the next elevator doubles. I have no intention of starting anything with her, but the idea of one of them hitting on her makes me see a red that has nothing to do with our jerseys.
Unfortunately, my distraction with Sophie leaves me wide open for Ethan and Payton’s antics. They push in behind me, along with Wade and Elias.
Ethan holds his room key out to me. “Swap rooms with me.”
I narrow my eyes as I study first him, then Payton, who’s standing next to him with a suspicious grin on his face. “Why?”
“Because it’s by the elevator. You want me well rested for tomorrow, right, Cap? ”
I snort. “What about me? I need my rest, too.”
Payton opens his mouth to say something, but Ethan cuts him off. “You slept on the bus most of the ride up. You didn’t even move when we stopped for gas and snacks. Nothing wakes you once you’re out.”
I grunt, then hold out my key card. “Fine.”
Payton leans in to see the room number on the envelope. “Added bonus. Now our rooms are next door.”
Ethan rolls his eyes at him. “What are you, like eight? This isn’t a sleepover, man.”
Payton clutches his chest and sighs like a girl. “And here I thought you loved me.”
I can’t get out of this elevator fast enough. Those two resemble a pair of mischievous sea otters on the loose.
When we file off, I check the signs to see which direction to go. Turns out my newly assigned room is down a long hallway and nowhere near the elevators.
“Hey Ethan, you said?—”
They’ve already disappeared down the opposite side. I shake my head and continue toward my room. As I reach my door, Sophie comes out from the one beside mine.
If we didn’t have a game tomorrow, I’d teach Ethan and Payton a serious lesson tonight that may or may not involve a hockey stick.
Her expression shifts from surprise to irony. “Imagine meeting you here.”
“That would be Ethan and Payton’s doing.”
She frowns in confusion.
I shake my head and hold my key card over the lock. “Never mind. Have a nice evening.” I push open the door, fully intent on crashing for the evening. Right now, room service is about my speed. I may even give my sister a call and see how her week went.
“Aren’t you going to dinner?” Sophie’s perky voice turns me around in the doorway.
“Did I say I wasn’t going to eat?” I’m trying my damnedest not to smile because teasing her is becoming way too much fun.
She presses those gorgeous pink lips of hers together.
I wait in my doorway as she strides down the hallway with that large bag swinging on one side. Then she turns around and marches back.
“Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Throw my words back at me.”
I chuckle. “Didn’t you just throw my words back at me? I told you to have a good evening first.”
“You know what I mean. It’s like every conversation has to be competition with you. Why?”
I hold my hands out. “I’m a hockey player?”
Her lips twitch. She’s trying hard not to smile. And right now, I want nothing more than to see her face make that transformation so I can watch how her eyes sparkle with delight, how the corners of her delicate pink lips lift, and how her cheeks warm with a soft blush.
“Hey, I told you what I do for a living this time.” I quirk a grin, waiting for my reward.
And there it is. That smile’s fast becoming one of my favorite things. I wonder what it would look and feel like to make her laugh?
The twist in my gut is either warning me to back off or trying to tell me something I’m not ready to hear.
“There’s a little place about a block from here that has the best pizza of your life. I highly recommend it.” I push my door open more, intending to put my bag inside and scrap my plans for room service and a dumb movie. That is if she’ll even want to go with me…
“Wait.” She’s staring at me again with those big browns. “You must be hungry since you didn’t get a snack when the bus stopped. ”
I’m a six-foot-three hockey player. I’m always hungry. And I think she’s about to beat me to the punch. “I am.”
“Pizza sounds great. Care to tag along?”
“Sure.” I toss my bag inside the room and shut the door.
We head back toward the elevators in companionable silence, only glancing at each other as the bell chimes and the doors slide open. I make a casual gesture for her to enter first, keeping my gentlemanly stance in place. I even clasp my hands in front of me as we ride down to the bottom floor.
I may appear calm on the outside, but my insides are buzzing as if I just scored a goal.