15. “Then we’ll all be making out in the same room. Not weird at all.”
“Then we’ll all be making out in the sam e room. Not weird at all.”
Caleb Hawthorne
Aria is wearing my jersey, and that fact is completely messing with my head.
There she is, sitting in the front row with my signature “C” slapped on her chest, and she’s never looked so beautiful.
Her cheeks are flushed, and her eyes sparkle as she watches the game unfold.
It’s weird having someone I know at the game, but the good kind of weird.
Sure, my family comes once in a while, but it’s not the same. Not even close.
Someone whizzes pa st me, and I wonder how long I’ve been standing on the ice like an idiot.
Probably not that long, but still, I have to get a grip.
Aria wearing my number means nothing. It’s just her way of saying thank you.
Not to mention, she probably has a boyfriend or a husband searching for her somewhere.
I focus back on the game, channeling more anger into my blades as I skate toward Beaumont, who’s going to need the assist. The puck slides to him just as I’m drawing near the crease, and he makes a sharp pass across to Adler, who’s already skating into position.
Adler bodychecks Number Sixteen from Philadelphia to regain possession, and the plexiglass shakes dramatically.
From the corner of my eye, I see Aria flinch in her seat, and my heart clenches.
She’s scared it might break again. How could she not be, after the first experience she had here?
I didn’t even think of that when I asked her to come. I should have—
“No, Cap, come on!” someone calls, pulling my attention from Aria. It’s Adler, who just shot the puck toward me. I let it pass right by, straight to the end of a Panther’s stick.
I curse under my breath. What’s going on with me?
I call for a line change, then go grab something to drink.
All the while, Coach badgers me with advice and strategies, but I can’t hear a word he’s say ing.
I feel terrible for asking Aria to come here tonight.
She probably only said yes to repay my kindness or whatever.
She might even have PTSD, and it’s all my fault.
“Hawthorne, what are you doing?” Coach bellows behind me. That’s when I realize there’s a line change again, and I have to get back on the ice. At this point, I don’t know how I’m going to make it through this game without losing my job. Frankly, I’d deserve it.
But once again, I’m reminded that I have the most amazing team in the NHL. Even with my subpar performance, we managed a 4–2 win.
Everyone meets me with fist bumps and slaps on the back as I trudge back to the locker room, but what I really need is a slap in the face. I let my team down tonight.
The mood is upbeat and teasing in the locker room, with Adler and Beaumont going at it, as always.
Wally is sitting solo in his corner of the room, probably thinking the game over before he retreats to the gym for a cool down. He and I are the same in that way.
Grabbing two energy drinks, I meander toward him. “Good game tonight, Wally.”
“Still let two through,” he m umbles, grabbing the drink.
“Yeah, well, I did worse than that. I’m surprised I’m not getting roasted right now.”
“Good point,” he says, not helping at all. But I like that he gives it to me straight. They all do. Well, for the most part. “But they’re happy right now,” he continues. “If we would have lost, they’d be all over you.”
I chuckle, taking a swig. “You’re probably right. They’ll have plenty of chances to harp on me at the bar, I guess. Are you coming?”
He gives me a pointed look.
“Oh, come on. Don’t leave me alone with them,” I plead. “They’ll have my skin.”
“Fine, but you owe me one,” he grumbles, his deep British accent more pronounced than usual.
“That’s my Wally.” I slap his back. “Are you headed home for Christmas this year?”
“Actually, yeah. Since we’ve got a few days, I’m making the trip. Not too cross about missing that Polar Plunge, either.”
“Ah, there’s the real reason.” I laugh, slapping his chest with my glove.
We keep chatting about our plans for the holiday break before dragging ourselves to the gym to flush the lactic acid from our muscles and cool down. Then, we hit the showers and head over to Deacon’s bar in the middle of Warlington Lane.
It’s crowded, as always, but thankfully, we have a private room at the back just for us.
I actually did the renovations with Deacon, and naturally we paid for everything.
The backroom isn’t much. Just a couple of couches, a jukebox, and a few high tables.
But it’s nice to have a spot where we can hang out and unwind.
Even better for the guys—their girls all work on the Lane.
The usual crew is already in the backroom when we arrive, and Adler, Miles, and Beaumont all trail off to kiss and hug their girls.
“Drink?” Wally grunts, and I nod.
Aria is standing awkwardly next to Hayley, who’s now sharing a passionate kiss with Beaumont, and I’m beginning to wonder how much more discomfort I can put her through in a single night.
“Hey,” I say, coming closer. I avoid checking out her jersey, still not totally over it. “I’m so sorry about tonight. I didn’t consider it could trigger some bad memories for you. It—”
“It’s okay, Caleb,” she says, her small chuckle instantly warming my chest. “I’m fine. I had a great time, actually.”
“But I saw you shiver and jump when the plexiglass was hit.” I scratch my head, trying to chase the image away.
“It is a bit intense, I’m not gonna lie. But I know that breaking the glass was a rare thing. I wasn’t really scared, I promise.”
I blow out a slow breath. “Are you sure?”
She giggles and places a hand on my arm. “Yes, I’m sure, Caleb. It was a great game. You were fantastic.”
Were we at the same game? That was probably my worst performance since my rookie year. “Um, thanks. Not my greatest night.”
“Well, I liked it,” she says, swaying on her feet. “You’re fast, precise, and I appreciate that you don’t get into too many fights. Some of your teammates seem to start a brawl every ten minutes.”
I scratch my beard, stealing a glance at Miles, the hothead of the group. “Yeah. That’s not my role. I’m the captain, so I have to lead by example.”
I feel a presence behind me, and Aria’s gaze lifts up a notch. Wally must be here. I turn around, and bingo. There he is, two drinks in hand. He glances at Aria, then at me.
“Oh, right. Do you want something to drink?” I ask her. “This is just root beer, but Deacon has pretty much everything you can think of.”
She gives a small shrug. “Um, sure.”
“Try mine and decide?”
She places her lips on my glass, and that small action does the weirdest thing to my body. A sparking current spreads across my chest, and I have to swallow hard to focus. At the same time, my heart speeds up for no good reason, and the air feels suddenly thicker between us.
She scrunches her nose, struggling to swallow her sip.
“Not a fan, huh?” I joke. I glance at Wally, who’s still stoic next to me.
“Ew, no. I don’t like that.” She wipes her mouth with the back of her forearm. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I blow out a chuckle. “That’s good to know. Let’s see if Deacon can pour a few samples for you to try.”
We head to the bar, and Deacon gives Aria samples of some popular cocktails and drinks. Once she finds out she likes iced tea the most, we join the rest of the group, who are all lounging on the couches, debating what game to play.
“Oh, you guys play games,” Aria whispers while sitting down next to me, a frown clouding her face. “I won’t know how to play.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, not bothering to lower my voice since the guys are so vocal. “We usually don’t, and I think you can guess why,” I say, glancing at the guys, who are still arguing between Pictionary and Trivial Pursuit.
“Ugh! You guys are giving me a headache,” Beth says. She stands up, but Adler catches her, sitting her on his lap. They start kissing, and he whispers sweet nothings in her ear.
“Get a room!” Miles calls out.
James comes up for air and says, “We will make out right here in front of everyone for the rest of the night if we don’t start playing Pictionary in the next five minutes.”
“Dude, seriously?” Beaumont groans. “You’re unbelievable. Hayley and I could do the same for Trivial Pursuit, you know.”
“Be my guest,” Adler says with a smirk. “Then we’ll all be making out in the same room. Not weird at all.”
“Um, captain’s veto on that one,” I interject. “You guys are unbelievable.”
“Well? Are we playing or what?” Adler asks.
Miles releases a breath. “Fine, let’s play Pictionary. But next time, we’ll play Trivial Pursuit.”
Adler kisses Beth one more time, then flashes a grin. “Let’s get this party started.”
The game is going surprisingly well. We split into two teams. Adler, Beth, Marissa, and Miles against Beaumont, Hayley, Aria, Wally, and me.
We have a one-player advantage, but they were happy to split up the teams this way.
Frankly, I’m more than happy to be on Wally’s team.
They probably aren’t aware that he knows how to draw.
Since he doesn’t talk much, he has to express himself in other ways.
Marissa grins, grabbing a card. “Watch and learn, boys.”
She starts drawing, and everyone goes quiet. It’s an odd shape. Honestly, I have no idea what she’s trying to do here.
“Oh, I think I know,” Aria whispers into my ear, sending goosebumps sweeping over my skin. She’s been an amazing teammate so far, bringing home three points for us.
I give her a questioning look.
“A lamp or a bulb, or maybe light?” she murmurs.
I glance at the drawing, and the strange shape makes sense now. “Right. I think that’s it.”
Marissa’s team shoots a bunch of nonsense answers at her—including “house” and “book,” and she’s clearly getting frustrated. I guess Miles isn’t the only sore loser in their couple. She focuses on the outline of her light bulb.
“Oh, it’s a lamp!” Beth exclaims.
“Ten seconds left,” Wally calls from beside me, his deep voice reverberating around the room.
Marissa draws some sparks around the light bulb.
“Light!” Adler yells.
Marissa drops her marker with dra matic flair. “Yes, finally!”
They high five, and Marissa takes her seat again.
“Oh, speaking of light bulbs,” Miles says, glancing at me. “Could you stop by and have a look at the shower head at our place? I can’t get it to stop leaking.”
I roll my eyes. “Dude, I’m not the team’s on-call janitor on the team. Stop asking me to fix your stuff.”
“I know,” he sighs. “I could call the plumber, but he always takes forever to come, especially with the holidays around the corner. I know you could have it fixed within minutes.”
“Fine.” I shake my head. “I’ll drop by tomorrow before we leave.”
“Caleb, you’re up,” Marissa says, handing me the small dry-erase board and marker.
I lean forward to draw a card from the deck, then study it. Easy enough. I start sketching the outline of a trophy.
“Cup! Stanley Cup! Championship!” Beaumont shouts, his French accent clipping the words slightly.
I add little lines to indicate shine, hoping someone gets it.
“Victory?” Hayley guesses.
“Close,” I say, trying to draw emphasis on the base of the trophy.
“Hey! No talking !” Marissa scolds.
Aria leans in, studying my sketch. Her perfume—or maybe the smell of her shampoo—takes over, and I suddenly wish to be teleported back home, watching TV with her on the couch. “Winning?” she guesses.
“Playoffs?” Wally tries.
I shake my head, adding a few stick figures holding up the trophy.
Aria gasps. “Champions!”
“Yes!” We high five, and I draw her in for a hug. She fits so perfectly in my arms, just like she fits in with my friends, in my home. It’s like the piece of my life that was missing, and I wasn’t even aware of it.
Adler claps loudly. “Finally, something goes right for our cap tonight! I mean—no offense,” he adds.
I break from our embrace and shoot him a look, but there’s no real bite behind his words. Just goodhearted teasing.
Beaumont grimaces. “Bit of an off night for you, huh, Cap?”
“Yeah, Caleb,” Marissa chimes in. “What was with that missed pass? Kind of a rookie move.”
I roll my shoulders, forcing a casual shrug. “Everyone has an off night once in a while.”
Miles tilts his head. “Hmm. But you don’t.”
He’s right, I usually don’t. I can’t lose sight of my focus. Tonight showed me that I was right, thinking that I couldn’t do both—have a relationship and play hockey. Not if I want to be there for my team. It’s just not how I’m wired.
I glance at Aria, and she’s watching me, a small smile tugging at her lips. My pulse kicks into high gear, and for a second, I’m ready to give up my entire career in the NHL just so we could have a shot .