Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
Rafe
The Cold Fury management offices are more traditional than the Vengeance’s. Where the Vengeance executive suite is all airy with light colors and chrome, the Cold Fury décor is dark-paneled walls, thick, plush carpeting, and ambient lighting from wall sconces.
None of that matters to me, though. I’m just happy and grateful to be on this team. It’s a miracle of sorts that I even made it here. The move was made after the trade deadline, which meant I wasn’t eligible to play in the playoffs. As such, Dominik Carlson and Gray Brannon came up with a risky plan and maneuver to release me down to our minor league team on waivers. The same was done with my counterpart here at Cold Fury, Kane Bellan. Then, when the waiver time expired, both coaches snapped us up to join opposite teams. I’m sure other teams wanted us, but I expect that some palms were greased or something to make the switch happen as it did.
Regardless, I’m just so fucking relieved to be here. It means I get to spend time with my dad and continue playing hockey. I know it will end up being my saving grace throughout my dad’s last days.
The receptionist in the lobby area of the executive suite looks up with a smile as I approach her desk. “Can I help you?”
“I’m Rafe Simmons,” I tell her. “I’m supposed to meet with Gray Brannon this morning.”
“Of course, Mr. Simmons,” she says exuberantly, rising from her desk. “Ms. Brannon is expecting you and told me to bring you right back when you arrived. If you’ll follow me, please.”
She leads me down a hall to Gray’s office, a luxurious space as traditionally styled as the rest of the suite. The receptionist gives a short rap on the door but doesn’t wait for a response, merely pushes it open and steps inside to announce me.
I’m stunned to see Gray on the floor in front of her desk, playing with a baby, who is chewing on a wooden block.
Gray Brannon is a beautiful woman with fiery red hair and crystal green eyes. She’s gorgeous, but it’s not what she’s typically known for. Instead, she’s the first and only female general manager in the league, a former Olympic hockey player and bronze medalist who managed to lead the Cold Fury to back-to-back Cup championships since joining the team four years ago.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to see her on the floor, performing just another duty of her incredibly busy and challenging life: mom. I know she and her husband—former Cold Fury goalie Ryker Evans—had the baby about eleven months ago.
Gray looks up and grins at me, a toothy welcome that’s also wholly unapologetic. She’s not sorry that she’s on the floor with her kid rather than greeting me with a handshake. “Hey, Rafe. Come on in.”
I step past the receptionist, who backs out but leaves the door open.
“Sorry about this.” Gray waves at herself and her baby—a little boy who smiles up at me, all gums and drool. “Ryker is swinging by to pick Milo up, but he’s running a few minutes late.”
“No worries,” I reply with an easy smile, clasping my hands in front of me, unsure of what I should do. I think this meeting is just a formality, although Gray and I have talked on the phone twice since I approached Dominik Carlson with my request to come to the Cold Fury.
There’s a knock on the open door behind me, and I turn to see Alex Crossman walk in.
Alex is the captain of the team, one of the finest players in the league, and heads up the first line as the center. It’s the same position I play, except on the second line.
“I was just walking by,” Alex explains as he sticks his hand out to me. “Saw you in here and thought I’d officially welcome you to the team.”
I shake his hand, and he gives mine a hearty pump. “Good to see you,” I tell him.
I’ve met Alex on a few occasions at public events, and he’s always been gracious. I’m excited to play under his leadership.
“Alex,” Gray says, pulling Milo onto her lap. “Ryker’s coming by to pick up the rug rat, but he’s running late. Do you mind taking Rafe down to the locker room and showing him around? I’ll be down later.”
“Not at all,” Alex replies easily and turns for the door. “Just headed there myself.”
This isn’t unexpected. We have a team skate in about half an hour, which will be just a light workout since there’s a game tonight. The Cold Fury is taking on the Toronto Blazers tonight in the second game of the first round of the playoffs. The Cold Fury already took game one the day before last. While I won’t be playing in tonight’s game, I will be skating with the team to get my feet wet. Gray told me they expect me to head up the second line for game three in two days’ time.
Today is more about meeting my teammates and establishing some chemistry with the rest of the guys on the second line.
“It was great meeting you, Gray,” I tell her with an incline of my head that speaks to my gratitude. “I can’t thank you enough for doing this.”
Her face softens, and she pulls Milo in a little closer to her chest. “We’re glad to have you. I hate the circumstances that brought you to the team, but we’re all here to support you. That being said, we think you’re a great addition, and will be of great benefit to us.”
That’s overly kind of her to say. It’s going to be a bit of a transition for them to get used to me and my style of play. While Kane Bellan and I were a pretty even trade, there are slight differences. It’s going to be a hindrance to the second line until we can gel—something that could happen within the first game, or several after.
Alex and I leave the executive suite. In the elevator heading down to the basement level that houses the locker room, he makes the overture that I’m sure I will get a lot today. “I’m really sorry to hear about your dad.”
“Thanks,” I reply with a smile I don’t feel. “I appreciate it.”
He studies me for a moment, a bit of calculation in his eyes. “Listen...I don’t need to tell you that every player needs to play at an optimum level since we’re in the playoffs. I also don’t need to tell you that you’ve got some tough times ahead of you with your dad. If, at any time, your head isn’t in the game the way it should be, I just need you to let us know. We’ve all got your back. You may be new to the team, but you are a brother to us now. If you need to take a step back, not one man on this team will ever begrudge you for taking the time you need for yourself and your family.”
That was way more than I expected, and it touches me. He doesn’t need to make those assurances. In fact, he has every right to be tough with me...acknowledging my shitty circumstances but making expectations clear—that I should be performing at peak level, no matter what.
“Thanks man… I really appreciate it,” I say and he responds by clapping me on the shoulder.
The locker room is noisy and bustling. All of the players are in front of their wooden cubbies in various states of undress. The mood is jubilant, with a lot of laughing and joking going on. It reminds me of the Vengeance locker room, and I have a moment of intense longing for my old team.
Alex leads me over to my space, stopping along the way to do quick introductions. I already know many of my teammates, either from having played with them or against them, even dating back to my junior hockey days.
My cubby is open-faced, made of solid stained wood with an etched plaque that reads R. Simmons at the top. The equipment manager has been diligent. There’s a practice uniform, the requisite pads, skates, and even my preferred brand of sticks waiting to be taped—which is something players usually do themselves.
A guy that I immediately recognize but have never had the opportunity to meet before is at his cubby to my right. Tall, with dark hair and the weirdest-looking golden eyes I’ve ever seen, ones that probably make women swoon, he shoots me an easy smile and sticks out his hand for me to shake. But it’s Alex who makes the introduction. “Rafe... this is Zack Grantham. He’ll be your left-winger.”
We pump hands, and I tell him, “Hope I can fill Bellan’s place and do it justice.”
“I’m sure you can,” he replies with an affirming nod of his head. “Looking forward to getting out on the ice with you.”
Zack plops down on the bench that runs in front of our cubbies and starts to untie his shoelaces.
Another man approaches, and I recognize him as well. An icon, Garrett Samuelson is a first-line right-winger for the Cold Fury. He’s joined by one of the best goalies in the league, the lynchpin of this team, Max Fournier.
We shake hands, and they are equally as warm and welcoming. The crowd starts to grow.
Max motions a guy over, and I can tell immediately that they’re related. He introduces his brother, Lucas Fournier, to me.
“Glad to meet you.” We shake hands, and I lean in with a conspiratorial grin. “Loved that hip check you put on Lars Nilsson a few weeks ago.”
Lucas laughs and nods. “I bet you did.”
Lars is a douchey player for the L.A. Demons. Last year, he pulled one of the lowest forms of violence I’ve ever seen in our league, and he did it with words.
Our first-line center for the Vengeance, Tacker Hall, was having a rough time. He lost his fiancée in a plane crash the year before, and as if that weren’t bad enough, Tacker was the one piloting the aircraft, so he was dealing with loads of misplaced guilt.
At any rate, Tacker and Nilsson got into a scuffle on the ice, and rather than handle it the normal way by dropping gloves and duking it out, Nilsson made reference to Tacker killing his fiancée.
Tacker went ballistic and took Nilsson down to the ice, kneeing him in his head so severely he knocked him out cold. Tacker was suspended for several games, but in everyone’s opinion, the ass-whipping was justified. I would have loved to have gotten a piece of him. I’m sure every player on our team would have.
“How is Tacker doing?” Lucas asks. Everyone in the league knows he’s had demons to deal with.
“His stats say it all,” I point out, and all the men standing around nod. Tacker is back at the top of his game, leading the league in points and dominating everyone on the ice.
Of course, I don’t tell my new teammates how that most likely has everything to do with the way Tacker’s heart healed in the time since he found love with Nora. They’d all think I was a pussy for saying something like that, but it’s true. He’s a new man since she came into his life, and I’ll credit Dominik Carlson with that, as well. He pushed Tacker her way for some much-needed therapy, and what do you know...they fell in love.
The romantic in me can recognize that, even though seeing Calliope yesterday reminded me that I probably don’t know shit about true love. Not the way Tacker and Nora do. It was brutal being back in Calliope’s presence on top of having to deal with my dad. A double whammy of sorts, reminders of the losses I’ve suffered and the ones that are yet to come.
It’s easy to put that all aside, though, as more people come up to introduce themselves, and I start to feel a tinge of excitement regarding the possibilities with this team. Veteran players that have helped to lead the Cold Fury to two Cup championships in the last two years. Men like Hawke Therrian, Roman Sykora, Van Turner, Reed Olson, and Marek Fabritis. I forgot just how stock-heavy this team was with star players. While only a few days ago, I thought it would be the Vengeance that would sweep everyone on the way to the championship, I now fully realize that I didn’t take a step down when I switched teams. It was truly a lateral move, and the Cold Fury has just as much power as the Vengeance.
Despite the upheaval in my life and the pain I’ll be facing, there is a bright spot on my horizon. I’m still very much in the mix for something good while playing for this team.