Chapter 3
AVERY
The weeks since Leif’s death had been a blur of horrible emotions and some of the worst moments of my life. I was still having nightmares the moment the doctor’s grim words had registered with Rachel.
“I’m so very sorry, Mrs. Erlandsson,” the man had told her.
What followed had been the most gut-wrenching, heart-breaking sound I’d ever heard, and every night since, I hoped I wouldn’t hear it again. So far, no luck.
Like my teammates and their wives, I’d spent as much time as I could with Rachel. We’d helped with the kids. Kept up with the yard and the house. Sometimes I thought the only thing keeping any of us moving was helping to keep Leif’s family moving. I’d take whatever I could get.
Every day since, I’d dreaded the start of camp.
I’d kept up my workouts if only to have an outlet and a distraction, but for the first time in my life, I hadn’t wanted to come back to the ice.
More than once, in my absolute lowest moments, I’d seriously considered asking my agent to find some way to get me out of my contract.
All it had taken each time was one look at Rachel and the kids. They were already taking the loss so hard. They needed to see us strong. They needed to see the Whiskey Rebels—the team Leif had poured so much of himself into—rallying and moving forward so maybe they too could move forward.
I wasn’t sure I could do that, but I was damn sure going to try.
Returning to this place where I’d spent so much time and made so many memories—most of them with Leif—had been harder than I’d expected. Putting on my gear. Existing in that room where nothing was left of him but his nameplate. Leaning my stick in his stall—God, that had nearly destroyed me.
A couple of seasons ago, Leif had been out with a broken wrist. That had been tough, but at least it had been finite. We’d all known he was coming back. And he was such a goddamned rink rat, he’d been there almost every day anyway just to hang out.
This absence wasn’t going anywhere.
But I had to move forward. I had to do this. If nothing else, for Leif’s memory and for his family. For our team.
So I’d pulled myself out of bed. Dragged myself to the rink. Forced myself into my gear. Made myself get out to the ice.
And…
And for the first time in weeks, I did feel better. Not good—good was a long way off—but better. More centered. More like me.
The comfortable burn of muscles getting back into the swing of skating. The familiar presence of my stick through my gloves. The vibration of the puck landing on my blade. The satisfaction of watching the my shot go deep into the back of the net, even when there was no goaltender to stop it.
I took some slow breaths as I warmed up for practice.
For all I’d felt like my entire world was off-kilter, the ice beneath my feet was level and solid.
It wasn’t like everything was right again, but the taste of cold rink air on my tongue gave me that first inkling of hope that maybe things would get better.
I’d lost a friend in major juniors. We hadn’t been as close as Leif and me, but his death had still hit me hard. The grief had seemed insurmountable. Normal had been gone forever. But over time… little by little…
I still thought about Alex a lot, and I still missed him, but life had gone on. There’d been happiness and joy again, and I could think about him now without choking up.
Was it too much to hope I’d get there with Leif, too?
“You know what Alex would say if he could see us now, right?” Leif had asked when we’d been sharing a behind-closed-doors and very manly cry after the funeral.
Wiping my eyes, I’d managed a halfhearted chuckle. My first laugh in days. “That we’re a couple of pussies?”
“Exactly.” Leif had sniffed. “Judgy-ass bitch.”
At that, we’d both burst out laughing. We’d still been crying, but we’d laughed, and it had felt good.
I exhaled a cloud and skated a small, lazy circle as I scanned the faces of my teammates and the prospects.
Is there anybody here I can have that manly cry with this time?
Right then, my gaze snagged on one of the new players, and my breath hitched.
In all the chaos, I’d forgotten about Peyton Hall. That we’d acquired him during the off season.
Before I’d come out here, we’d made eye contact across the locker room and held it for a few seconds, and suddenly I’d been back on the golf course with Leif. There’d been a wager on the table and good-natured threats and his promise to troll me for my crush until the end of time.
The sight of Peyton Hall wearing a Pittsburgh Whiskey Rebels logo in our familiar practice facility had only carved the emptiness deeper.
Every time I so much as caught a glimpse of him, I heard echoes of the chirps Leif and I had exchanged.
I saw the void where there should have been my friend’s smirking face making me blush without saying a word, just flicking his eyes toward Hall and chuckling.
Instead of snarky remarks about how much I wanted our new teammate, I heard painful silence.
And I felt how little I wanted the man.
There was nothing wrong with him. Distantly, I registered that he was as attractive as he’d been before.
How his crystal blue eyes had always scrambled my concentration.
The way just seeing his smile in a social media post or something could make my brain record-scratch.
How I’d always caught myself watching him skate; I’d been mesmerized by the distinctive sway of his shoulders and how his legs moved and how he made it look so effortless.
Now we were on the same ice and in the same jersey. He was here. A teammate. Still hot as ever.
But all the places that should’ve been warm and fluttery with all my fantasies about him were empty. Even when he laughed at something one of the guys said to him, that thousand-watt smile didn’t ignite anything in me.
Christ. My libido was so dead and gone, it was hard to imagine I’d ever had one. Impossible to believe I ever would again.
I tore my gaze away from my new teammate and found a puck. Practicing some stick handling was always a good way to warm up, and it gave me a reason not to look at my new teammate.
“You know,” I heard Leif saying as he’d skated up to me during warmups in Detroit last season. “I could totally tell him you have a crush on him.”
I’d glared at him. “Don’t you dare.”
“Why not?” His eyes had been full of mischief behind his visor. “He’s right over there.” He’d tipped his head ever so slightly in the direction of the other end of the ice where Peyton’s team had been warming up. “I could just skate up to the red line, get his attention, and—”
“Do you want me to show Rachel that karaoke video?”
He’d shut his trap and eyed me. “You said you deleted that.”
“Uh-huh.” I nodded toward the other team. “How sure are you that I actually did?”
Leif had pursed his lips. Then he sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. “Christ. You really do take the fun out of everything.”
I’d laughed and punched his arm. “Not my fault you suck at karaoke.”
“Pfft. Whatever.” He’d shot me a pointed look. “Did you delete it or not?”
It was my turn for a toothy, mischievous grin. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
Then I’d skated away as he called after me, “You’re a dick, Calds!”
Had we been anywhere other than an arena full of fans and cameras, I’d have flipped him the bird. I’d done that later.
In the present, I shook myself and looked around the rink.
I needed to get into the moment. Into hockey.
I was here, and I had work to do, and we had a whole crowd of prospects who needed us veterans to have our A-game on so they could learn and develop.
Skating around and feeling sorry for myself wasn’t going to help anyone with anything.
Of course, all it took was another glance at Hall for me to slip right back into my own head. He was doing some relaxed passing with a couple of prospects who looked about ten—was I getting old? Shit—and he seemed oblivious to me.
In that moment, Leif should’ve skated by me and muttered, “You’re drooling, Calds,” at which point I’d have smacked him with my stick and called him something the fans and reporters hopefully wouldn’t hear.
I hated that he wasn’t here to chirp me about my stupid crush. I hated that I couldn’t get my goddamned head together. I hated that Leif was going to lose our wager. Not because Hall wouldn’t be interested in me—maybe he would be, maybe he wouldn’t—but because I wouldn’t even try. I couldn’t.
Some part of me wished I could flirt my way into Hall’s bed just so Leif could win our bet and maybe so I could feel something good again.
Part of me was pretty sure that would be a disaster. I didn’t imagine I had it in me to go through the motions of a hookup with anyone. Not even my longtime crush.
Oh my God, I’m a mess.
Right then, someone did skate up to me, but it wasn’t Leif.
Coach Tabakov peered at me from beneath his black baseball cap. “How are you doing, Calds?”
I forced a smile. “Here and skating. That has to count for something.”
“It does.” He clapped my shoulder. “It counts for a lot.”
The sadness in his eyes didn’t help me pull my brain on to the rails.
“Listen, before we get started,” he said, glancing at the rest of the guys as if to make sure we had some relative privacy. “We’re going to be trying out some new lines today.”
“Right.” I nodded sharply. “Training camp. It’s—I know the drill.”
“I know you do. How do you feel about being paired with Hall?”
I think my heart actually stopped for a beat or two. “I… Hall?”
Coach nodded and gestured in Hall’s direction with his clipboard. “I want to see how the two of you gel.”
It took me a couple of seconds to process that.
Somehow I’d still assumed Hall would be on the second line, since that was why we’d acquired him.
I guess I just hadn’t thought about it. When my mind finally caught up, all I managed to say was, “Oh.” What could I do?
Tell Coach he was pairing me up with the player I’d had a wicked crush on since forever?
That Leif and I had even had a wager on whether or not I’d get into Hall’s pants?
Coach offered a sympathetic grimace as he put a hand on my shoulder. “I know this is tough for you, kid. No one can fill the hole Early left on this team. No one. Ever. But I have to fill his position. Next man up. You know how it is.”
I swallowed hard against the lump in my throat. “I know. I get it.”
I did. I honestly did. Somewhere in my mind, I’d known it on the way in here. There was no offensive line without a center and two wingers.
I just hadn’t realized my line’s new center might be Peyton Hall.