Chapter 24 #2
I was not ready for the work it took to keep my gaze from accidentally landing on him.
I wasn’t going to perv on him or anything, but without any other distractions, it was easy to absently let my focus snap on to him.
Just like when we’d been on the ice, it took work not to zero in on him simply because he was the only one there, and then keep staring because he was so… damn… hot.
I seriously did not need an eyeful of that man’s bare shoulders. Or six-pack. Or ass. Or package. Or…
Goddammit, he was so sexy.
But this was the locker room, not a nightclub. He was my teammate, not a potential hookup. No matter how much I wanted him—oh my God, I wanted him—this was neither the time nor the place.
It was especially not the time. He was up to his neck in trying to get a handle on his grief and his drinking, and getting involved with anyone—especially a teammate—would only complicate things.
As I headed for the showers, it wasn’t lost on me that he’d gone out to get drunk and get laid the night he’d had me come get him from the club.
Were hookups a normal thing for him? Or had that just been part of his self-destructive pattern?
Not that I thought hookups were self-destructive.
I was hardly above them, even if I hadn’t had the time, energy, or inclination to get laid since I’d come to Pittsburgh.
But hookups could be self-destructive the same way drinking could be.
And was it even my business? Yes, I was concerned about him, but the way my stomach curdled when I thought about him firing up Grindr or Tinder while I was on the road… that was not concern.
Am I… jealous? Of someone who might not even exist?
I mouthed a few curses as I let the shower’s hot spray rush over my neck and back.
What is wrong with me?
Nothing I needed to be thinking about now, that was for sure. I’d come here today to help Avery get back on the rails. After this, we’d have dinner so we—
Oh my God. I’d invited him to my place for dinner.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I hung my head to let the water rush over my hair. What was I thinking? I’d barely been able to skate when it was just him and me on the ice.
Well, there was no turning back now. I’d find a way to not make an ass of myself tonight, and hopefully I’d be able to focus well enough to cook. I could play hockey while I was distracted. Cook a salmon without scorching it? We’d find out.
By some miracle, I managed to finish my shower and get dressed without embarrassing myself. Avery was a few steps behind me, and he sat down to put on his sneakers just after I’d finished tying mine.
“Before we go,” he said as he leaned down to tie one, “I think I’m going to go grab a cup of coffee.”
“Mind if I join you?”
When he glanced up, his smile was a little tired but adorable nonetheless. “Not at all.”
Why was that making my stupid heart do stupid flippy things? God, I was stupid.
After he’d put on his shoes, we strolled out of the locker room to the training center’s lobby.
This area could be absolutely crawling with people if there was a tournament going on, or when fans crammed into the stands to watch training camp.
Today, the schedule was pretty quiet, so there were only a few people milling around out here.
There was a signup table for skating and hockey lessons, and a handful of parents waited with their kids in tow.
The coffee stand had two people in line, and I thought I saw someone wandering into the Rebel Wear store, which sold jerseys and other team-branded items for fans.
“It’s so weird when it’s this quiet,” Avery murmured as we got in line. “It’s like when I come here to practice during the off season.” He huffed a laugh. “I keep expecting to see a tumbleweed roll through.”
I chuckled. “No kidding. And it was crowded as hell earlier.”
“Was it?”
I nodded. “Big turnout for practice.”
“During the week?”
“Yeah?” I shrugged. “It happens.”
He grunted in agreement. Some weekday practices were a ghost town. Some were, well… not.
Avery opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, there was a shrill, “Mom! Look! It’s Peyton Hall!”
We both turned toward the voice and found a mom wrangling four kids, the oldest of whom couldn’t have been more than twelve. One of the younger ones pointed at us and bounced.
“Justin,” the mother scolded. “It’s rude to point!”
“Sorry.” He lowered his hand. “But it’s—Mom! That’s Avery Caldwell!”
Beside me, Avery tensed.
“It is! It is!” One of the boys ran toward us. “Can we get pictures? Can you sign something for us? Oh my God, I can’t—”
“Stephen,” the mother said patiently but firmly. “Let’s be polite.”
The kid backed off, but excitement still radiated off him.
With the other three kids in tow, the mom came closer, and she shyly looked at Avery and me.
“I’m so sorry. They’re big fans, but we don’t have anything for you to sign.
Would you mind if I go grab a couple of jerseys?
” She gestured toward the Rebel Wear store.
“I don’t want to keep you, but they would love to have some Hall and Caldwell autographs. ”
Avery and I exchanged glances, and we both shrugged.
He smiled. “Sure. We’re not going anywhere.” He motioned toward the coffee stand. “We’re just waiting for some coffee.”
“Okay.” She sounded relieved. “Five minutes—I promise.” To her kids, she said, “Come on, let’s go get a jersey while they get their coffee!”
The kids all went wide-eyed with excitement, and they sprinted across the lobby to the store with Mom following.
When we were alone again, Avery patted his pockets, then turned an alarmed look on me. “You don’t have a Sharpie, do you?”
“I…” I patted my own pockets. “Shit. No.”
He chewed his lip. “I’ve got one in my locker.” He fished out his wallet and handed me a ten-dollar bill. “Can you get me a regular coffee?”
“Of course. Yeah.”
Then he was gone, jogging back toward the hallway that led to the locker room.
By the time I had our coffees, Avery still hadn’t returned. I found a chest high table, put the cups down, and set about polluting mine. I couldn’t quite remember if Avery liked cream or sugar in his, but the stand was only a few feet away, so I figured he’d get whatever he needed.
I had just put the lid back on my coffee cup when the smallest of the woman’s four boys sprinted up to me holding a jersey that was almost as big as he was.
He was almost to me when he skidded to a halt, his smile vanishing in favor of worry, and he looked around.
As his mom and siblings caught up, he gazed up at me, eyes wide and sad. “Is he gone?”
“No, no!” I put my coffee cup down beside Avery’s. “He just went to get a marker so we can sign your stuff. He’ll be right back!”
Relief took over the kid’s expression, and he clutched the jersey close to his chest.
A second later, though, his face lit up again. “There! There! Mom, look!”
I turned, and sure enough, Avery was jogging back, two Sharpies in his hand. As he gave one to me, he looked at the mom and kids, and he sounded slightly out of breath. “Sorry about that. Couldn’t remember where I’d left them.”
“Oh, it’s okay!” The mom was beaming. “They’re so excited to meet you both, and I really appreciate you guys going to this much effort.” To her youngest, she said, “A.J., can you give him the jersey to sign?”
The boy gazed shyly up at Avery for a second. Then he thrust the jersey at him. “Can you sign it? Please?”
Avery seemed surprised, but he recovered quickly. “Sure. Of course.” He crouched and gave the kid a bright smile before he took the cap off the marker.
Then he paused, peering at the jersey. The kids and their mom exchanged uncertain looks.
Trying to keep the moment from getting awkward, I gave him a playful nudge with my foot. “A-V-E-R—”
That did the trick. Avery burst out laughing and smacked my thigh with the back of his hand. “Shut up.” Then he carefully scrawled his autograph on the number.
I chuckled, relieved the tension was broken, and returned my attention to signing the other jersey.
After that, their mom asked if we minded doing photos, which of course we didn’t. We posed for a handful with the kids, who had huge smiles as they held up their newly signed jerseys.
As soon as the photos were done, one of the older boys looked at Avery. “Hey, do you know when you’ll be back?”
“Stephen!” their mom whispered. To Avery, she said, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Avery said with his media smile in place, and he looked at the boy. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but I’m hoping it’ll be before the playoffs.”
Both of the older boys’ faces lit up.
“Yeah?” the oldest asked. “So you’ll be back this season?” He shoved his brother. “I told you!”
“Whatever!” The other kid shoved him back. “You didn’t know either.”
“Boys,” their mom growled.
Avery just chuckled. “I’ll be back this season.”
That seemed to make their day even more than the photos and the signed jerseys.
The kids peppered us both with questions, and then their mom told them it was time to go. To us, she said, “Thank you both. I think you just made their whole week.”
“Ours too,” I said, and I meant it.
That earned us another bright smile from Mom, and then she herded the kids out toward the parking lot.
When we were alone again in the lobby, Avery picked up his coffee and took a drink, but his expression was distant.
“You good?” I asked him. “When you took the jersey, you seemed a little…” I didn’t know how to describe it.
Avery gazed in the direction the family had gone. “I guess…” He chewed his lip. “I don’t know. It kind of blew my mind that she actually went and dropped almost three hundred bucks on a Caldwell jersey.”
“A Hall jersey too,” I said. “I don’t know if you noticed, but they were even more excited to see you than me.”
He stared at me with wide eyes.
“When you were in the locker room,” I said, “the little one looked like he was about to cry because he thought you’d left.”
Avery’s lips parted and his eyebrows climbed even higher. “He… He did?”
“Yeah.” I gave him a nudge. “You have fans, you know. A lot of them.”
“I…” He glanced toward the parking lot, then dropped his gaze. “I guess. I mean, know I had fans. But with me being out, and everybody knowing why…” He trailed off as some color rose in his cheeks.
I put a hand on his shoulder. “They’re not going to bail on you because you needed help. Yeah, everyone knows you’re in the player assistance program, but they also know you lost someone really close to you.” I gave his shoulder a squeeze, then let him go. “They’ve got your back, same as we do.”
He straightened a little. “Really?”
“Hell yeah. I mean, on the last road trip, me and Baddy stopped to sign for some fans outside the hotel in Tampa. Lot of them were asking about you.”
Avery blushed again. “They were?”
I nodded. “Uh-huh. They wanted to know how you were doing. If we thought you’d be back this season.” I smiled. “Some of the kids waiting outside of practice the other day told us to tell you they’re already making signs for your first game back.”
“Holy shit,” he murmured.
“I’m serious,” I said softly. “The fans miss you, and so do we.”
Avery winced and dropped his gaze. “I feel like I let everybody down.”
“You didn’t. And nobody feels like you did.”
He gave a quiet, bitter laugh. “Tell that to the commenters on social media.”
“Pfft.” I rolled my eyes. “I don’t suppose you’ve read the comments by other people shutting those assholes down, have you?”
From the sheepish shrug, he had. He probably just hadn’t let himself believe that he had more defenders than detractors.
“There will always be people who hate some of us,” I said.
“Hell, Ziggy’s first in the League for shutouts this season.
Every time there’s an article mentioning him, though, there’s a handful of people who have to pipe up and talk about the bad season he had a couple of years ago and how he needs to be traded. ”
Avery laughed, wiping a hand over his face. Then he reclaimed his coffee cup. “Yeah. That’s true. Haters gonna hate.”
“They are. The vocal minority assholes online are going to be vocal assholes no matter what. But the fans—” I gestured with my coffee cup toward the parking lot. “The real fans who actually come to games and understand that we’re as human as the next person—they support you. They matter.”
He studied me uncertainly, but after a moment, the tension in his neck and shoulders started to ease. “Maybe. It’s just hard to hear them over the haters, you know?”
“You could start by not reading the comments,” I said dryly.
That made him laugh for real. “Okay, okay. You’re not wrong.”
“Of course I’m not.” I nodded toward the other end of the building. “Now how about we get out of here so we can eat something?”
Avery’s stomach growled audibly. So did mine.
We both chuckled and headed for the player parking lot.
When Avery pulled out of his parking space, he smiled and waved, and then he was gone.
I indulged in a relieved sigh. I had no doubt rehab was tough on him, and being away from the team and the fans was even tougher.
That was the thing about hockey—it became a player’s entire world, and being separated from that world and the people in it was devastating.
I’d been suspended for two games during my second season, which meant I couldn’t even communicate with my teammates for five days.
No practice, no travel, no meals, no games—they couldn’t even include me in the group text.
That had been the longest five days of my career.
I’d literally changed how I played after that to avoid another suspension just because I didn’t want to face another separation from my teammates, and I hadn’t had more than a double minor penalty since.
Avery could at least communicate with us, interact with us, and come to team functions.
Though he hadn’t been coming to any games or practices. The guys kept asking me about him because I was the only one who’d seen him in person since he’d started in the program.
Maybe I could coax him into playing with me and some of the other guys. After that, maybe a game. It would probably be good for him.
As I left the parking lot, I mentally strategized how I could persuade him to be around the team more. I didn’t want to coerce him into something he didn’t want to do, but maybe if I got him to see that it would do him good? That the guys wanted to see him and weren’t angry with him?
I’d work on it.
Maybe tonight over the salmon dinner I was making for the two of us.