Chapter 10
TEN
JJ
“How are things going with your coach?” Bray leans against the wall waiting while I finish dressing for practice.
I eye him, rolling my socks up. Adeline has managed to avoid being alone with me for almost a week. When I do see her, she’s closed off. Shut down. Making it no fun to push her buttons.
She deleted my number. Maybe it shouldn’t surprise me. She made a choice years ago and it wasn’t me. I got angry, hurt, and what started as not speaking to one another for a few weeks morphed into months and then years of silence.
I was so busy with Avery and the NHL that I could almost forget she existed. At least for a few hours every day.
The truth is I thought about picking up that phone and calling her often. Or texting. Or just showing up at a game to support her.
I didn’t. She hurt me. And I guess I took it harder than I wanted to admit at the time.
Still, knowing that she basically erased me from her life fucking stings.
And I don’t know how to fix it.
But she matters to Avery, so I have to make an effort. Even if it’s as nothing more than a casual friend.
“That good, huh?” Bray laughs, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I grunt. “You’re the captain. You tell me. Did Coach say something?”
He shifts, standing straighter, then shakes his head. As far as captains go, he’s the best. He makes sure he’s always available for us. He’s quiet and focused, and he’ll do whatever is necessary to make sure we’re all in the right headspace leading up to the puck drop.
Is that what he’s doing now? I almost laugh. Definitely.
“No one’s mentioned anything, but I have eyes. And yours never stray from her. Especially when she’s talking to Dirk. They used to date or something?”
I grunt again. “No comment.”
The decisions Adeline made after the day she stepped off that elevator and out of my life still confuse the hell out of me, but Dirk is the most difficult one to process.
“You’re even grumpier than usual.” Brayden studies me, seeing far more than I’d like.
The two of us don’t spend a ton of time on the ice together.
If he’s doing his job, he’s hanging with the other goalie, taunting our opponents, pissing them off, scoring.
He’s got his father’s attitude. He’s cocky as hell when he’s in his gear, and he’s got the talent to back it up.
He’s covered in tattoos and he’s always trying to get the rest of us to let him ink us up.
Because yeah, that’s another of his talents.
He’s an incredible tattoo artist. I’m fortunate to have him in my life.
He’s an incredible friend, so I try not to be too much of a dick to him.
I’d hate for him to trade me in for someone happier like our center, Bobby. He’s always smiling and joking around.
“Just stressed. Haven’t heard a fucking word from Tabs, and Avery keeps asking for her.
We’re gonna be on the road soon, and what if she just fucking shows up?
Could Vivi handle that?” I pull on my hair and slam my eyes shut.
When I’m not thinking about the woman in the room next to me, these are the thoughts that haunt me at night.
Brayden squeezes my shoulder. “Sorry, man. I didn’t realize how much you had on your plate. That fucking sucks. I get the whole parental disappearing act. I relate more to Avery in this situation than you, but you should talk to my dad. He certainly has experience there.”
I offer him a tentative smile. “Thanks. Yeah. Maybe I will.”
“As far as Vivi—” Brayden pushes a hand through his dark hair. “She’s been good with Avery, right? I know Coach was worried about her dropping out of school…”
Strapping on one leg pad, I peer up at him, waiting for him to finish his sentence, but he almost appears lost. “She’s a good kid,” I assure him as much as myself. “And Finn’s at the house more than I am at this point.”
He laughs, the tension on his face easing. “Well, wherever Hopie is.”
Lips pressed together, I dip my chin. “Exactly. And Hope’s great. Winnie too.”
“If you’re worried about security while you’re gone—”
I shake my head and stand. “Knowing Beckett and my father, that house is a fortress.”
Bray coughs out a laugh. “So fucking true.”
I breathe out, my chest relaxing a little. “Thanks. I needed that.”
“Not sure I did anything.”
“You checked in. You cared. And talking through it made me realize that Avery will be fine. She’s in the best place she can be. The only way it would be better is if I was home with her instead of here.”
Bray arches a brow. “That’s not practical.”
He might think that, but there are times when I lie awake and think that really is the answer. Avery needs me. The Bolts…they may be my team, and they mean a lot to me, but they aren’t her. They don’t need me in the way my four-year-old does.
“JJ.” Brayden studies me, his expression searching, weighted this time.
“I know. She’ll be fine.” I shake off the thoughts. Now is not the time to ponder my life choices.
When we step out onto the ice, Dirk and Jarred Kane are already running drills.
Addie has them coming an hour earlier than us.
They need the extra training, and this shows that the Bolts are serious about the rookies and potential players, even if my spot on the team is secure and those guys will not see a day on the ice during regular season. Not this year.
“You’re not moving with the puck,” Addie yells as she pulls back her hockey stick and aims another shot at Dirk in the goal.
He grabs the puck before it goes into the net. She sent it sailing toward him slowly, giving him a chance to correct his technique, so the catch isn’t much of a flex.
“Okay, Coach.” His tone is mocking, full of disdain. “Why don’t you show me?” Between one breath and another, he lifts the puck with his stick and whips it back at Addie.
In what feels like slow motion, she lifts her hand just like she would if she were geared up.
But she’s not.
She’s wearing regular gloves. The kind meant to protect her hands from the cold and nothing else.
She should dive out of the way. Or duck.
But she does the thing we’re all trained to do.
It’s in our blood. When the puck is coming at us, we block it.
So she shifts her body and catches the goddamn biscuit in her hand.
The second it makes contact, she lets out an ear-piercing scream that echoes off the walls of the cavernous space.
And in response, I don’t see sense. I don’t see reason. I just see red.
I toss my helmet at Brayden without giving him a heads-up. I’d never treat my gear like that if I wasn’t so goddamn fucking angry, but right now, my only goal is to hurt this asshole the way he hurt Addie.
“What in the fuck is wrong with you?” I rush toward Dirk and slam the piece of shit into the net.
He doesn’t expect it, so he goes down quickly. But I pull him right back to his feet, throwing my fist at his face. I make contact with his cheek and am rewarded with the satisfying crunch of his bones cracking.
“JJ, what the fuck?” Adeline shouts as I’m tugged away from the asshole I’d like to murder with my bare hands.
“He’s not worth it.” Brayden yanks on my practice jersey, jostling me.
A guy I don’t recognize—a rookie, maybe—nearby grabs Dirk before he can fall backward onto the ice.
Fucker would have deserved that too.
Panting and out of breath, I can’t control this anger simmering inside me. “Did you see what he fucking did?” I yell.
Brayden’s still at my side. Like always. “Yeah, I did. But you gotta calm down.”
“Jesus Christ,” Adeline mutters.
At the sound of her voice, I whip around and zero in on her.
She’s a couple feet away, and one of the team trainers is inspecting her hand. Each time he pokes or prods, she winces and squeezes her eyes shut.
“What were you thinking?” she says in my general direction.
Heart in my throat, I skate over to her. “Is your hand okay?”
“Brayden, get him out of here,” she says without even looking at me.
“Adeline.” I huff, my blood still boiling. “Look at me.”
“If you don’t get off my goddamn ice, Hanson,” she says, focus fixed on her hand, “you’ll be riding the bench for the first two weeks of the season.”
Brayden pushes me back and I go without a fight.
With a long breath out, I deflate. “She’s out of her mind if she thinks I’m the one in the wrong here.”
“Yeah, fighter, you’re not the problem at all,” my best friend says.
The annoyance in his tone makes my spine snap straight.
“What the fuck?”
“I could say the same to you,” he grouses, his face fixed in a glower. “I told you to settle this shit with Addie. Your head has never been on straight when it comes to her.”
“He fucking rifled a hockey puck at her.”
“And she’s a coach. She should have known better than to catch it.” He pushes me backward into the bench. “You didn’t see anybody else rushing out onto the ice to defend her honor, did you? She’s not your girlfriend,” he yells, his face close to mine. “She’s your goddamn coach.”
The arena is deadly silent. I didn’t notice that until now. As Brayden’s voice reverberates around the facility, a single hiss comes from the ice. It’s Adeline. I’d recognize any sound she makes anywhere. And we just made things worse.
When I inhale deeply and force myself to look up, only to find Brooks and Gavin staring at me, their eyes creased in concern, it really hits me.
I fucked up
After I shower, I find Brooks waiting for me in the locker room. He’s his usual soft-spoken self, full of genuine concern when he asks what the hell the incident was all about.
I don’t lose my temper. I rarely show emotion. Goalies tend to be good at that. It’s our superpower. If we allowed the shit that bothers us to fester, to get into our head during a game, one goal could easily turn into four.
I can’t afford to spiral.
“I think I’m having a harder time than I thought I would,” I admit as we sit side by side on the bench. “Adeline and I don’t…we don’t get along like we used to.”
He stares at me for several seconds, disappointment radiating from him. Then he rests his forearms on his knees. “It’s not your responsibility to protect her.”
I nod and open my mouth to respond, but he shakes his head.
“We all appreciated the way you looked out for her when she was younger, and I’m sure you saw far more shit from the little assholes who thought they could pick on a girl, but JJ…she’s not a girl anymore. She’s your coach. Are you gonna be able to handle that?”
I nod, promising him I can, but long after he’s gone, I sit in the locker room, rolling his words over in my head.
Can I handle this? Shit. Not like this. Something needs to change.
And it starts with an apology.
So rather than leaving like Brooks told me to, I bide my time, and when all the guys have left for the day, I make my way to her office. This can’t wait until we get home. While we may be housemates, here, she’s my coach. I should have respected that from the beginning.
I knock twice and when her “come in” filters through the closed door, I tentatively push it open and peek in, making sure she can see it’s me before actually entering.
Adeline is seated at her desk, wearing the outfit from this morning, black leggings and a tight jacket with Bolts embroidered on the left breast. Her long brown hair is pulled back into a neat ponytail and her focus is fixed on her computer screen.
Those big brown eyes of hers lift, and when she spots me, she sags with exhaustion. “JJ, can we do this later, please?”
I step inside and close the door behind me. With one hand still on the knob, I lean back against the solid wood. “I wanted to apologize.”
With her tongue pressed into her cheek, she shakes her head. “I don’t need your apology. What I need is for you to respect the roles here. I’m not one of your puck bunnies.”
My jaw clenches as a sick ache pulses in my gut. “I know that.”
“Then act like it,” she grinds out.
Along with discomfort, my irritation flares to life again.
Not wanting to escalate the situation, I reach for something we used to do, something that would always make her smile, no matter how pissed off she was.
“Why don’t we grab a slice of pizza at Antonio’s?
You can tell me all about how you’re now my coach and I have to be better,” I say, keeping my tone light.
“I promise I won’t interrupt or steal your pepperoni. ”
Her eyes widen for just a second.
Come on, Adeline. Meet me halfway here.
But then she turns back to her computer screen, dismissing both me and my idea. And maybe our shared past. That’s what hurts the most.
“Go home, JJ. I’ll see you later.”
So much for starting over.