11. Nash
CHAPTER 11
NASH
A Coyote checks me against the boards, the impact so hard I swear my fucking teeth rattle. A blast of pain shoots through my shoulder, but I push through it. Shoving away from the guy, I skate past him, gliding along the ice with laser-focus on the puck that the Arizona Coyotes just stole.
It’s third period, with seconds left in the game, but it feels like we’ve been playing for twelve hours—the Coyotes putting up a hell of a fight. One that has them tied up with us right now?—
The Coyote dekes Pax, the fake so good even I didn’t catch it, and he soars toward our goalie, Fender, taking his shot.
I hold my breath, the puck flying in slow motion toward Fen?—
And a centimeter beyond his gloved hand, the puck hits the back of the net.
The buzzer sounds.
Game over.
We lost.
Fuck .
Pain rushes my body as we skate off the ice, the adrenaline that’s been numbing it leaking out of my body. I do my best to focus on Coach’s post-game speech, but the weight of the loss coupled with the pain makes it difficult. Once he releases us, I all but sprint to the showers, hoping the hot water will help my shoulder.
After about ten minutes, I give up and head back to my locker.
“If they would’ve put me in, I would’ve scored that last goal for us,” Liam Madden—one of our rookie centers—says to his little trio of buddies as I walk past, fresh out of a shower. “What an absolute shit show.”
“You weren’t on the ice,” I say, rolling my eyes. “If Coach thought you’d be an asset, he would’ve put you out there. So watch your mouth.”
Liam glares at me but is smart enough to not say anything back.
I make my way over to my claimed locker for the night, getting dressed in a casual pair of athletic pants and a white T-shirt. “Is Monroe set up anywhere?” I ask Pax, rotating my shoulder.
“Yeah, she’s across the hall,” Pax says. “That hit against the boards got you good.”
“My fucking shoulder is tight ,” I say, hating that I can barely rotate it. “I’m going to see her. Will you tell Reese I’ll meet up soon?”
Pax nods, waving me off as I head across the hall, finding Monroe’s door open and her working on Baylor. It isn’t a private session, hence the door being open, and he’s fully clothed in the same Badgers pants I’m in, paired with a black shirt.
“Dude, do you live here?” I ask, even though we’re in the Coyotes arena. They all start to look the same though, and Monroe’s office is no different. A clean slate room, with a piece of generic art to add color, plus a massage table and her travel bag of magic potions. Her office in our home arena is much cooler since she chose the art and setup, but this will do in a pinch.
“You’re telling me,” Baylor says. “Fucking Coyotes were ruthless tonight. I got my hits in though. Sure their massage therapist will be working overtime tonight.”
Monroe rolls her eyes, digging her thumbs into his hip and moving them in circles. “I’m not working overtime tonight,” she says. “I keep telling you to take it easy, but you never listen.”
Baylor hisses when she digs deeper into his hip, then sighs in relief when she lets go of the muscle. “I don’t exactly have the easiest job.”
“Me neither,” she says, smiling at him as she hands him a travel sized bottle of lotion. “This is extra strength. Don’t get it in your eyes this time. And wash your hands three times after using it. Four times if you’re partaking in any…intimate activities.”
“Thanks for the tip.” Baylor barks out a laugh as he hops off the table, fist-bumping me as he heads out.
Monroe shakes her head. “Let me sanitize and then you can hop up.”
My phone rings, and I flash Monroe an apologetic look. “Mind if I take this really quick? It’s Hadley and she’s FaceTiming. She only ever does that if it’s important.”
“Of course,” she says, waving me off. “I have to reset anyway.”
“Cool.” I swipe open the call, holding the camera up so she can see my face. My stomach plummets the second I see where she is. “Why are you in the hospital?” Panic flares through me, and I’m already mentally buying a plane ticket to Maine.
“I’m here with Dad,” she says, furrowing her brow.
“Oh shit,” I say, blowing out a breath. “I forgot you flew home this weekend.”
I shouldn't have forgotten, since I was the one who demanded I buy her ticket. She insisted she dip into her savings from time to time while she attends her final year in college, but I did my best to cover most of her expenses.
“It's okay, Nash,” she says. “You don't have to memorize my schedule anymore.”
“I know,” I say, but I can't believe I forgot. “It's just been a crazy few weeks.”
More like a crazy three months, but I’m not about to get into all of that.
Hadley and I had texted about Reese plenty of times, but we never dove into any anything serious on the topic. Partly because I’m more of a face-to-face-and-get-serious kind of guy versus spilling my heart out over text. Not that I've ever really felt the need to spill my heart out. Until recently, that is.
It's been a month since Valentine's Day—the day I mark as the day Reese and I stopped faking things. I still haven't been able to figure out if Reese is on the same page, but I've been having way too much fun with her to ruin it by asking.
It's been amazing having her at every game, not to mention practices and then dating her after. I've never been a monogamous relationship type of guy, but Reese makes it easy, effortless. I haven't thought about or looked at another woman since we struck that bargain after New Year's Eve.
And now, she’s the only woman I ever think about.
“I bet,” Hadley says. “I'm sorry about the loss tonight. You played amazing though.”
“Thanks. You know how it is it sucks to lose, but we're building off of a lot of shitty years. How's Dad?”
“He's good,” she says but she doesn't turn the phone for me to say hello to him, so I know he's not in the vicinity. “He's getting his treatment right now. I just stepped out to call you.”
My stomach twists, a sense of foreboding threatening to swallow me whole. “What's wrong?”
“Nothing major,” she hurries to say, giving me a sympathetic look. “They think this treatment is working, and he’s looking healthier than ever. Honestly, I don't remember the last time he’s looked this good. He loves this new doctor he's with. And Dad is so grateful for you, he and mom both.”
Warmth spreads through my chest, and I nod.
The simple motion has me hissing, the pain in my shoulder tightening with every movement I make. But hearing her words makes every hit I take on the ice worth it. Makes every cheesy video Reese and I post on the social media page worth it.
Not only is Reese soaring high, finally creating the content that keeps viewers coming, not just with our videos but with the Badgers in general, but I've landed the Liquid IV deal too. The money came in a couple of weeks ago, and I funneled it all into upgraded medical care for Dad. I wiped out a shit ton of their bills too, leaving just enough of that endorsement deal left over to handle taxes.
“That's good to hear,” I say.
“It really is,” she says, but I can tell there's something she isn't saying.
“Just tell me, Hadley,” I say. “Whatever it is, it’s fine.”
She rubs her forehead, like whatever she's about to say is going to be painful. The emotional whiplash she’s delivering is enough to make my stomach turn.
“The new treatment isn’t covered by their insurance and it's ridiculously expensive,” she blurts the words out, sounding like they almost hurt coming out of her mouth. “I know you know that since you've already paid for two rounds, but they think he's going to need at least ten to really see results.”
Holy shit, ten?
That’s a whole lot of dollars, and I absolutely don’t have the money right now. My first contract with the Badgers isn’t up for renewal for another year, and while I landed a stellar deal for the first contract of my career, I'd already blown through most of it covering my parents’ house, cars, utilities, medical bills, and Hadley’s tuition.
How the hell would I come up with enough to keep handling it all?
I don't let any of the stress show as I nod and smile at Hadley. “If that's what the doctor says he needs, then that's what he needs. Don't worry, I've got it covered.”
Hadley’s eyes water and she bites her lip like she’s trying to stop herself from crying.
“Hadley,” I say, trying to comfort her. “I promise it's okay. I've got some stashed away, I can handle it. Just tell the doctor to send the bills to my address. Will you do that for me please?”
The previous doctors knew the drill and just pushed the bills my way. But this new doctor had made the mistake of sending one to my parents’ house, and it had been a little bit of a shit show when mom opened it.
She wasn’t completely na?ve—she knew how much experimental cancer treatments ran, especially without insurance—but she didn't realize how expensive they can get. It’d taken everything just to calm her down and assure her that this is why I’m a celebrity athlete, skating my way across the NHL limelight. Not only to repay them for the sacrifices they made when I was a kid so that I could have as much ice time as possible, but because I had it and I wanted to take care of them the same way they’d always taken care of me.
“I'll make sure of it,” Hadley says, sucking in a deep breath and not letting any tears fall.
“Thanks, kiddo,” I say, the nickname sticking despite her being a grown woman now. She'd always be my baby sister to me. “Tell Dad I said hi, okay? And that I'm really glad he's feeling well.”
“Will do,” she says. “Love you, see you at home.”
The screen goes black, and I pocket my phone, looking up to find Monroe focusing very intently on her phone. She definitely heard the entire conversation, which I knew and was fine with or I would’ve stepped out. I don’t make my situation public knowledge, but Monroe was friends with Hadley and was Reese’s and Pax’s best friend, so she'd likely known about it through the friend hotline already.
I hop up on the table, and she puts her phone away, eyeing my right shoulder.
“I saw the hit,” she says, her hands hovering above my shoulder. “You ready?”
I nod, and her hands test the muscle, her fingers working in powerful pulses and circles and flexes. I can only grit my teeth as she digs her fingers in, working out the tight knots that coiled up from the hit.
“Damn,” she says, digging into me a little deeper. “This muscle is angry with you,” she says.
“Are you sure it's me?” I ask through gritted teeth. “I think it might be mad at you right now.”
She laughs, shaking her head and increasing her pressure. “Trust me, in about ninety seconds this muscle is going to love me.”
“Hard to believe when it's screaming like it is right now.” I struggle to get the words out it hurts so much.
Monroe chuckles again, using both hands to push and poke and grip the muscle within an inch of its life.
I'm pretty sure I black out for a second.
“Are you coming out with us tonight?” I manage to force out the words through the pain.
“I think so,” she says. “Liam said something about looking up somewhere for us all to meet up.”
“Fuck, Liam? That's still going on?” I ask.
I knew she'd gone on a date with him for Valentine's Day, but I didn't realize she was still dating him a month later.
Damn, Pax hadn't mentioned anything. I'd been so wrapped up in the season and Reese that I hadn't even noticed. Either that or he was very good at hiding his feelings on the matter. Or maybe he’d finally moved on, even though he never admitted he started in the first place.
“Yes,” she says a little defensive. “Let me guess, you don't like him either?”
“Who else doesn't like him?”
“Pax,” she says. “And Lawson has expressed his opinion when he's on my table too.”
“He's just... he doesn't seem nice enough for you,” I finally say, not wanting to outright air out all of the guy’s dirty laundry. Monroe is an intelligent and capable woman. She doesn’t need me telling her who’s good enough for her.
“Pax said something similar,” she says, still working the hell out of my muscle. “But I don't know, he's super nice to me. And he's direct. Tells me exactly what he wants, when he wants it. It's kind of refreshing.”
I try really fucking hard not to read between the lines on that statement, but I can't help but wonder if she's referring to Paxton and how he can look at her like she hung the moon and yet never tell her as much.
But then again, I've never had a friendship like theirs, and couldn't even begin to understand the complications and risks that come with crossing any kind of romantic lines.
“Few more seconds,” she says, increasing her pressure so much I have to clench my eyes shut. “There it is,” she says. “It's finally loosened up.” She eases up on her intensity, letting the muscle go long enough to grab some of that ice cold tingling lotion she loves to slather on me, practically drenching my shoulder with it before heading over to the sink to wash her hands.
The relief hits me in one big wave, making me slightly dizzy. I lift my shoulder, rotating my arm in a full circle, and breathe out a sigh in relief.
“You are a magician,” I say, the tension melting out of me now that the intense pain is gone. “I'm buying your drinks tonight.”
Monroe laughs, shaking her head as she dries off her hands. “I'm pretty sure Liam will be buying my drinks tonight, but if you want to argue with him about it, I'm sure Reese will find it really entertaining.”
Just the mention of Reese's name has my smile widening, and Monroe grins right back at me.
“Look at you,” she says. “Going all moon-eyed just at the mention of my best friend.”
“I have no idea what you're talking about.” I hop off of her table, slipping my shirt back on.
She cocks a brow at me as I head toward the door.
“Don’t tell anyone?” I ask, planting her with my best please smile.
“I would never.” She shakes her head. “See you guys soon.”
I give her a wave and close the door behind me, happy to not see anybody else standing in line waiting to see her. I knew she was joking about overtime earlier. If players needed her, she’d make sure to work on them even if it took her all night.
I head back into the locker room, grabbing my gear bag while I pull out my phone and send Reese a quick text, telling her I'll pick her up at the hotel after I change.
The team bus makes it to the hotel in record time, and I get ready just as quickly, knocking on Reese and Blakely's hotel room door within fifteen minutes.
“Everyone ready?” I ask as Reese opens the door, revealing Blakely, Lawson, and Pax hanging out in her room. “Or are we partying in here tonight?”
“While that sounds fun,” Reese says, motioning down to the hunter green dress she wears. “I put this on for an outing. If you say we're staying here, I'm changing back into my sweats.”
“I'm prepared to tell you you're beautiful in either,” I say, and my friends in the back say aww so loud that it makes me laugh.
“Paxton needs a drink,” Lawson says, and Pax looks at him like he's completely oblivious to why he called him out like that. But I can see what Lawson is saying. There’s a certain sadness hanging around our usually chipper friend and getting him out can’t hurt.
I interlace my fingers with Reese’s, motioning toward the hallway. “Come on then, Reese's Pieces,” I say. “Let's go show off that dress.”
An hour and a half later, we've finished dinner at a delightful little mom-and-pop Italian restaurant, and tracked down a late-night bowling place only a block away. We somehow wound up with two lanes and more company than I think any of us asked for, with one lane being occupied by Monroe, Liam, and his three best rookie friends.
It’s awkward as fuck.
Liam glares at Paxton whenever Monroe crosses lanes to chat with him and vice versa.
I’m not even part of the drama, but I feel embarrassed for Liam. I’m sure he can see how Monroe looks at Pax, which is way different than how she looks at him.
I also feel downright sad for Pax, but he’s had a million opportunities to tell that girl how he feels, if he’d ever admit it to himself, and he never has. He really has no one to blame but himself. Monroe is brilliant and beautiful, of course she wasn't going to stay single forever.
I throw my ball down the middle of the lane, which is much lighter than I usually go for to not aggravate my shoulder after Monroe fixed it. I still land a strike, and smile as I walk back to the seats near the lane. Reese is clapping and cheering for me like I just scored a winning goal. It's cute as hell and makes me feel like a goddamn superhero for just throwing a bowling ball.
Things like this make me think she likes me for more than just my content producing capabilities. She just might not be ready to admit it yet, which is fair. I'm willing to wait as long as she needs to figure out that this is no longer fake.
I take a seat next to her, my hands splaying on her thigh as Lawson takes his turn. Monroe is up for her turn on the other lane, and Liam walks up behind her, wrapping his arms around her from behind to help her throw the damn bowling ball like she doesn't already know how.
“Motherfucker,” Pax mumbles under his breath on the other side of me, drawing our attention. He clears his throat, folding his arms over his chest and shrugging. “There's only supposed to be one person up there at a time,” he hurries to say. “It’s a rule.”
Reese looks at him with empathy, but I just laugh, shaking my head at his lame attempt to cover what is quite obviously jealousy.
Lawson throws a gutter ball, but still celebrates like he's God's gift to the world, only making Blakely laugh as he dances in front of her chair. Pax barely squeezes by him to take his turn at the same time Liam picks up his ball.
The two look at each other and basically race to their lanes, throwing their balls at the same time. Pax gets a strike. Liam only knocks over eight pins.
Pax holds his head up a little higher as he walks back to his seat, boldly throwing a wink at Monroe who’s clapping for him.
“Oh,” Reese says, her hand squeezing mine atop her thigh to draw my attention. “I forgot to tell you I got a very interesting e-mail while you were getting your shoulder worked on.”
“Yeah?” I ask, leaning a little closer to her, lowering my voice so only she can hear. “Was it from my future self, telling you how fucking exquisite you look in this dress and how badly I want to tear it off of you?”
She trembles slightly, smiling as a flush rushes to her cheeks.
I fucking love that I've had her so many different ways in the last month, but she's still affected by just a few words from me. It makes me want to ditch my friends and get our own room.
“It wasn't,” she says. “But yes please.” She smiles at me. “It was from Sara, our PR Rep.” Her grin widens. “She reached out to let me know that Roosevelts is interested in doing a spotlight shoot with you.”
“No shit?” I ask. I love the line and wear their pop culture polos pre-and-post-game.
“No shit,” she says. “Sara wanted to let me know that they saw you in one of the videos sporting their Donald Duck polo and turns out they're hockey fans. She'll send you a separate e-mail to set up details, but I couldn't wait to tell you.”
I cup her face, kissing her like we're behind closed doors and not in a circle of our closest friends.
She opens for me, melting into my embrace rather than shying away at the public display of affection. It only makes me want her more, but once I hear the get a room from my friends, I back away, laughing as I shake my head.
“You are the absolute best,” I say. “You have no idea how much that means to me.” Doing a deal with Roosevelts would be a no-brainer. I love the company and the products they put out and what they stand for. Plus, whatever kind of income I can make off the deal will only help me take care of the rest of my father's medical bills.
“It's not me,” she says, waving me off. “You're the one who looks irresistibly gorgeous in their shirts. I'd want you to be the face of my brand too with how good you look.”
I puff my chest out on purpose, and she runs her hands across it, laughing.
“You're the one who is giving me all the good edits,” I say, wanting to give her credit where credit is due. Without her or the angles she sees, I wouldn't have the deals that I do.
“You don't get all the good edits,” Lawson says, clearly eavesdropping. “The one she gave me yesterday was baller.”
Blakely smiles, shaking her head. “It was a really good edit,” she agrees.
“And the one she gave me last week has Cheerios talking to my agent,” Paxton adds.
“Fucking Cheerios, I love it.” I laugh. That’s so fitting for Pax. I hope they put his face on a million boxes. I would buy fifteen of them.
“See,” Reese says, grinning at me. “I don't only focus on you.” She leans in and gives me a quick kiss. “At least not in terms of posting.”
“But in every other aspect?” I smirk at her.
“You are my one and only focus, Nash Stokehill.”
“That's what I like to hear,” I tease her right back, knowing she’s shuffling a hell of a lot more than just stroking my ego.
Not only is she running a very successful account for the Badgers, she also continues to work for her sister's makeup company, handling all those media pages as well. Add to it attending every single game, and meeting up with me in between, it's a marvel she has the energy to tolerate me, let alone entertain my antics.
“My turn.” She hops up to grab her ball.
“I’ll grab more drinks,” I say, heading to the bar across from the lanes, ordering her a faux-hito—a mojito with no alcohol in it, because she’s still on a no-drinking kick after New Year's Eve. I grab a soda water and lime, despite knowing we're going to take a Lyft back to the hotel. She doesn't mind if I drink, but I like to stay on the same page as her, not wanting us to be out of step even an inch.
“Hey there,” a feminine voice says right before a body brushes up against mine as she leans against the bar. “How are you doing tonight?” she asks before I can respond to her, and I turn to look at her, and then to the three friends standing behind her trying to get to the bar.
“I'll be out of your way in just a second,” I say, sliding some cash across the bar and taking the two drinks in my hands.
“Oh, you're not in our way,” the girl says before placing her hand on my forearm.
“We'd love it if you stayed. Do you have some friends that could entertain mine? I have a feeling we'd all get along.”
The question throws me off for a second.
Three months ago, this is exactly an opportunity I would take. She clearly knows who I am from the way she’s grinning at me and talking to me like we already know each other.
Three months ago, I would’ve said of course, waved over my friends, and spent a very predictable but enjoyable evening in their company, only to never speak to them again after.
And now there isn’t even a percentage of me that’s interested.
There’s something refreshing and terrifying about that sensation…about knowing I have a drink to deliver, and I can’t wait to get back to the girl it belongs to.
I turn and point to our lane, where Reese is about to throw her ball. “You see that knockout in the hunter green dress?” I ask.
The girl's shoulders drop, but she keeps the smile on her lips and nods.
“This drink is for her,” I say. “But thanks for the invite. Good luck on the hunt tonight ladies,” I say, winking at them as I go back to our lane.
Reese's eyes are on me then, and she quickly looks away, running her hands self-consciously down her dress as she retakes her seat.
I set her drink down in front of her, putting mine next to it as I sit next to her. “What's wrong?” I ask.
“Nothing,” she says a little too quickly.
I cock an eyebrow at her, silently telling her I know better. Her mood has shifted, and her nerves are showing with the way she can't hold her smile in place.
“They looked fun,” she says, looking over my shoulder to the group of girls that are still at the bar.
“Ah,” I say nodding. “You saw that?”
“It's kind of hard to not see you when you're being charming and winking at a group of beautiful women,” she says.
I wet my lips, unable to hold back my grin. “Did you see the part before where I was pointing at you and saying that you’re a knockout and mine ?”
Her eyes flare, blasting away the doubt that clung there before. “You didn’t?”
“I did,” I say. I smooth my hand down her thigh, wrapping my other arm around her to bring her close. I slant my mouth over hers, kissing her, teasing her lips until she parts them for me. I slide my tongue against hers, my eyes closing heavily as I sink into her mouth. Fuck, kissing her is like coming home. There's something so damn comforting in it and yet my blood is on fire, needing more.
I draw back, studying her gaze to make sure there’s not one single hint of worry or doubt in her eyes.
There's not. Nothing but heat and affection and a whole lot of beautiful green.
“Are you having fun tonight, Reese’s Pieces?”
“I always have fun with you, Nash,” she says, and her response hits me dead center in the chest. “For as long as we keep this up,” she adds.
She often likes to follow up these moments of vulnerability with a joke about how we have a time limit, or about how this is all fake, especially for me.
“All I hear is you always have fun with me,” I say, doing my best to focus on what's important. “And that's all that matters to me. That you're happy. And if that little scene back there bothered you, I'll be more than happy to stand up on this table and shout to this entire place that I belong to you.”
“Ohmigod, you wouldn't,” she says, gasping.
I cock a brow at her and climb up on the table.
“Don't you dare,” she says, tugging on my hand. “Get down.”
But my girl is laughing, beaming as she looks up at me.
Pax scoots into my seat, nudging her. “Don't worry, I’ve got this,” he says, holding up his phone and pointing the camera at me.
“Everyone excuse me, but I have an announcement to make,” I say loud enough to be heard over the booming music. I point to Pax’s phone. “You should hear this too,” I continue.
“My name is Nash Stokehill, I'm a Bangor Badger, and I’m completely obsessed with, enamored by, addicted to, and belong to Reese Jaynes.”
I get several confused looks, a few smiles, but my entire group of friends is clapping and laughing, and Reese’s cheeks are so red I can't help but grin down at her.
I hop off of the table, and Pax pockets his phone, scooting back over as he laughs at me.
“How did that make you feel, Reese’s Pieces?” I ask, leaning down to whisper the question in her ear.
“Like you always make me feel, Stokehill,” she says. “Like I'm living in a fairy tale.”