Chapter 8
CAELIA
“He didn’t do anything,” I murmur to Dad, drinking tea in the living room as he paces. He got me the hell out of the building, but I still feel like my skin is too tight.
I’m trying to keep my shit together so it’ll help calm my father down. It just isn’t working.
“This time. You haven’t been to a game in years, much less one where we played the Scorpions, so there was no way he’d see you,” Dad rages. “He looked like he’d been hit by a two by four when he saw you.”
Yeah, I noticed that too. Dad has air purifiers in his office to keep the air clean due to how much traffic the halls get. I’m taking my medication every other day to wean myself off of it, but my alpha pheromone blocker I just started to take before the doctor’s news is very strong.
I have no idea why Coach Miles Wallace looked stricken when he saw me. It can’t be for any good reasons though.
“When is the next time you play against them?” I ask. “It would be an away game, right? I could stay home.”
“I spoke to Friedrick about that. He says he wants you at away games,” he grumbles.
“Hockey players have a tendency to latch onto things because they’re superstitious.
They like that they play harder when you’re with us.
We also won during your first game with us, and they’ve decided that you’re their lucky person.
Our schedule is ramping up, which means there will be more games. ”
Taking another sip of my tea, I twitch my blanket over my legs as I recline on the couch.
It’s a procrastination tactic, because tonight wasn’t as terrible as I thought it would be.
Dad shielded me in my corner as the players jumped in and out of the bench area, and they carefully ignored me to the best of their abilities.
I’m still an anxious mess, but it’s not quite so intense anymore. I guess my medication really has been messing with my body.
“All I did was sit and take pictures—” I begin, but my dad shakes his head.
“They’ve noticed us at practice, and the way you point things out on the ice when you’re taking a break,” Dad says. “You remember much more about hockey than you give yourself credit for, Cae. The guys fought hard tonight on the ice, but every tweak was something you noticed at practice.”
“It figures I’d become a pixie mascot to a bunch of overgrown men,” I grumble. “I did have fun tonight. I have a lot of content to play with in the morning and begin posting.”
“That’s your territory,” Dad says.
“Somehow along the way, I forgot how violent hockey can be. There were a lot of penalties called,” I sigh. “That’ll appeal to some people too.”
“Hockey is violent, but there was a fair amount of chirping about you once the Scorpions realized you might be important,” Dad explains.
At the wrinkle in my forehead, he rolls his eyes.
“It worked against them. My team lost their shit. You’re my daughter, and a lot of them have kids, sisters, etc.
Fuck, I’ve met their mothers. There is a reason the men on my team are who they are today. ”
“I love that,” I admit. “I’m really just some girl they just met, Dad.”
“Maybe, but loyalties are built quickly in this sport. How was the intern tonight?” he asks, switching subjects as he continues to pace.
“He was fine,” I admit. “Rían looked scared of me, like I was a ticking time bomb. He dropped me off at your office as soon as he could.”
“I may have overdone it when I spoke to him,” Dad mumbles. “I also think he’s gay and probably one of the safest people who could walk you around.”
“Dad!” I exclaim. “Not everyone who looks at me is thinking about hurting me. It’s easier for me to say that now than it would have been a week ago.”
Dad stops pacing, standing in front of me with his arms crossed over his chest. He reminds me of a tree, and I know he’s up early every morning to run and work out. Looking back, he could have killed the players who hurt me six years ago without a hint of remorse.
Killing them would have been selfish, because I don’t think I would have been able to live with the guilt.
“So these meds are hurting you,” he confirms. At the incline of my head, he growls under his breath. Again, he doesn’t scare me, so I continue to finish my tea while I wait for him. “These fucking doctors just loaded you up full of shit that’s not good for you, not thinking about the side effects!”
“Maybe, but I also think they saved my life,” I shrug. “Coming off them may be a pain, but I did need them, Dad.”
“Hmmph,” he grunts, not reacting as I get up from the couch. “Are you hungry?”
Always feeding me… Hiding my smile, I decide I could eat a snack.
“A little,” I admit. “I’m also starting to get sleepy.”
“Grab a protein bar,” he suggests. “You aren’t as bad post panic attack today.”
“I didn’t expect anyone to wander over to your office,” I admit.
“He was just there, and I began to remember the night of the rape. He wasn’t even there, had nothing to do with it, but my body had a reaction to seeing him again.
I would have still been freaking out about it if this was just a week ago, but I feel okay. I think each day will get better.”
Dad taught me how to use the stun gun, and that has been helping me with my anxiety. It helps me feel safe. He told me to aim for anywhere there’s bare skin: arms, throat, etc.
“Damn, that’s the most positive thing I think you’ve said since you moved back,” he says, impressed.
Grabbing a bar from the counter before rinsing out my mug, I nod.
“I can’t be doom and gloom all that time,” I say. “I’m also not the kind of person who can always be happy anymore either.”
“I get that,” he says. “You know, they say that endorphins help combat depression and anxiety, do you want to go for a run with me? Early morning?”
I give him a look, and he grins. It’s not a million degrees anymore in New Orleans, but I am not a runner. I could also tell him that I’m not depressed, except I won’t lie to my father.
“Who knows, it could help push the medication out of your system faster since you’re sweating it out,” he cajoles.
“Ugh,” I whine, half laughing as I watch him turn off lights on this floor. “How early is early?”
“Six in the morning,” he grunts, checking the locks on the doors and windows as well. This is why I used to triple check the apartment before I went to bed. It used to make Addie crazy.
“Fine,” I sigh, beginning to climb the stairs, knowing he'll be just behind me. “I’ll go to bed now and work on content after this run you speak of.”
“It’s good for you,” he chuckles. “Good night!”
“Night, Dad,” I say, walking into my room and closing my door.
I survived my first hockey game in years, and I’m going to prove to myself that while this job wasn’t exactly where I planned to be, I can thrive here too.
I’m in my room a couple of days later monitoring the socials for The Dragons, smiling at the comments section. There are men and women alike thirsting over players, proud of our win against the Scorpions, and stating they’re going to attend a game.
I’m not going to lie, someone has been severely lacking when it comes to their socials. Some of the players have their own social media accounts, and do well there. Brand deals are built around images, charity work, and how the player is doing on the ice.
There’s a lot of money on the table for those who play their cards right too.
My phone rings, and I answer without checking to see who it is. There aren’t many people who have this number, and I blocked Jonna and her husband after they fired me unceremoniously on my first day.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Have you seen the social media accounts today?” a loud voice asks, and it takes me a second to realize it’s my boss.
Scrambling up from my sprawled out position as if he can see me, I push my hair out of my face.
“I have,” I admit. “Is there something wrong?”
“No, no. It’s the most engagement I’ve seen in a while! Your videos are professional, with just enough teasing to keep people’s attention,” Friedrick says. “If you want to reply to people’s comments, you absolutely can. We haven’t really had anyone managing our socials in a while.”
“I noticed that,” I sympathize. “I’m planning to post more content today. I want people to check back for it, and know they’ll get to see their favorite players doing something new. I want to do a series on how hard the Dragons train without giving away any secrets.”
“I like that idea,” he says. “Ticket sales are also beginning to increase.”
“I’m sure that’s only because they won,” I say gently.
“Eh, it may have something to do with it, but unless people are invested in the sports world, they may never hear about the win,” Friedrick says. “Your posts are forcing them to pay attention.”
“I did get a few comments asking when they got on the hockey side of their algorithms,” I chuckle. “I’m glad that people are paying attention. It can usually take a while before content gets enough traction to translate into sales.”
“I know, I know. There will be more travel coming up, which means it’ll be a good time to create traction to increase our fan base both locally and on the road,” he says excitedly. I can’t help but smile along as I nod. “I just can’t wait to see what you come up with.”
My dad did mention that the next four games would be out of town this morning. It means he’s going to be driving us so that I won’t be stuck on the bus with all the hockey players. I’m going to insist that we split the driving because he needs to be fresh for the games.
Things are going to be very busy as the season ramps up. I’m going to have to get really comfortable sleeping in hotel rooms.
“I’m also very excited,” I say. “I’m really glad you’re happy with my work so far.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” he says. “You could have asked for more money, and I’d gladly have given it to you. Talk later, I have another call coming in.”
Friedrick hangs up while I pick up my jaw from the ground, surprised by the high praise.
“Cae!” Dad calls out. “Are you about ready to leave for practice?”
“Yes!” I yell, getting up. Glancing down at my clothing, I wince. “Just give me a second to change.”
“Get the lead out,” Dad replies, making me chuckle as I shut the door and pull off my comfortable clothing. There’s a cute bear on my sweatpants, a clear reminder that I can’t go out in my pajamas.
I tend to bum around while I’m working from home. Dad convinced me to go running with him this morning as well, and I have to say that I feel more awake and alert. I took a shower after the run, ate breakfast with him, and then got to work.
I’ve been very productive.
Changing into a long sleeved lace shirt, I throw on a snarky t-shirt over it, and cargo pants. New Orleans weather has become really odd recently. Today, it’s on the cooler side and could drop to the forties tonight by the time hockey practice is over.
Layers are the best way to go. Pulling on my boots over my socks, I zip them up and spray my descenting spray all over me.
“Cae!” Dad yells, making me sigh as I grab my bag full of work supplies and a sweatshirt.
A passing glance around the room confirms what I thought: I can’t find either of my oils. The spray is going to have to do for now. I’m with my dad today, it doesn’t matter if I smell like nothing.
The biggest issue I have is when I’m in public at the mall or a gas station. It’s wild what people notice there.
Running out of my room, I stomp down the stairs.
“Okay, old man,” I say breathlessly. “Where’s the fire?”
Dad smirks as he shakes his head, pushing a banana into my hand.
“At the rink if my players beat me there,” he grunts, shooing me out of the house.
God, this feels like déjà vu. All through high school, he would rush me out the door because I was taking “forever.”
There’s comfort in that familiarity.