Chapter 36
THIRTY-SIX
ADDIE
The thing about big moments is that they’re generally fleeting.
After the Olympics, athletes are expected to return home and go back to their regular lives.
Or worse. In my case, after that night with JJ, after we told each other we loved one another, the bubble we found ourselves in didn’t even make it twenty-four hours before it burst.
So despite the feral excitement my family showed in response to my news, when Monday rolls around, I expect things to go back to normal. Well, as normal as they can be when I’m walking into a locker room filled with men who are now my colleagues.
JJ goes first, telling me to wait so he can make sure everyone is dressed. With the door wide open, he yells, “Listen up.”
A few guys grumble greetings, but they all settle quickly. “From now on, there’s no dick in the locker room.”
I close my eyes and groan. He is absurd.
“Ah, Cap,” Bobby Dean whines. “Tell JJ I can’t help it. This thing just wants to be seen.”
If I had to guess, he’s humping the air aggressively. Neanderthals. Every last one of them.
Brayden appears next to JJ and waves me in. “Hanson is right. Our new goalie is here.”
I step forward and give a little wave. The lot of them are all dressed for practice, and thankfully, there’s not a dick in sight. As they take me in, I wait for their faces to drop. For the glowers and concerned mumbles and disappointment.
Bobby steps forward first, and I brace myself.
“Shit,” he shouts. “Addie Langfield is gonna be a Bolt?”
“Fuck yeah.” Royal saunters across the room and slaps my hand. “Can’t wait to take the ice with ya.”
“Angles, Angles!”
Bobby starts the chant, but soon the entire locker room is shouting my nickname at a deafening volume.
I take in the scene, unable to breathe. The guys are all smiling. But no one as brightly as JJ.
Told you, his eyes say.
My stomach flips over. He did. When it comes to this career, he has always believed in me.
He waves his arms, and when the chanting dies down, he says, “She’s got her own locker room.”
I jolt back, blinking. What?
“But we’re going to make sure she can come hang with us in here before games. Clothes, men.” His jaw hardens as he scans each of them. “No dicks out. I’m serious.”
“What are you talking about?” I choke out.
Demeanor softening, he looks my way. “Your dad didn’t do the honors?”
I open my mouth, only to shut it again when no sound comes out. Finally I just shake my head.
He reaches for my hand, but he catches himself quickly and then slips it into his pocket instead.
I’m not the only one who catches it. Bray is watching him, eyes narrowed.
JJ clears his throat. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
I follow him out the door and across the hall to the door that leads to the film room. Inside, the space is unrecognizable. Where the huge screen used to be mounted, there’s now a mirror and two sinks. The white marble of the vanity is oddly similar to that in the bathrooms in the brownstone.
I chuckle. When my dad likes something, he sticks to it.
To the right is a spacious shower, and to my left is a bench and four stalls in the same design as the equipment in the men’s locker room.
Four stalls. Enough space for three other players. A thrill shoots through me. It’s suddenly easy to imagine a time when another woman will join me in here. When I won’t be the only female on the team.
The best part has been stored inside one of the stalls.
It’s my goalie gear. Complete with my new uniform. My jersey.
I snag it, spin it around, and suck in a breath. Langfield. I admire the way my last name—the last name of the man who gave me everything, of the family that has never once not shown up for me—is emblazoned across the shoulders. But the next part makes my heart stutter. “Thirteen. But that’s—”
“My number.” My Uncle Brooks appears out of thin air, leaning against the open doorframe.
“I don’t understand. Your number was retired. You’re—Brooks Langfield.” A manic laugh bubbles out of me. “Number Thirteen. Greatest of all time.”
He grins. “There’s not another person in this world who could wear that number, Addie. Do it proud.”
I blink back tears and turn to JJ. “Did you know about this?”
Smiling, he dips his chin. I so badly want to rush into his arms. I want to hug him. Crash against his chest and celebrate this wrapped in his warmth. Instead, I simply suck in a breath and nod at my uncle. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
“Get dressed. We’ve got a lot of practice ahead of us.”
That statement ends up being the theme of the week.
Despite the exciting media signing my Aunt Sara organizes and my own eagerness to play, Brooks and Gavin keep JJ as our goaltender for every game over the first two weeks.
Jarred and I practice as if we’ll be playing, but it isn’t until the second week of November that I’m given the green light.
“You’re on tomorrow night.”
Jarred, JJ, and I are all seated across from Brooks, going over tomorrow’s game plan after watching film.
I peek over at JJ, apprehensive about his reaction.
But I should have known better. I should have guessed he’d be smiling.
“You’re ready,” he says.
My shoulders sag in relief. This man always knows what I need to hear.
Of course, I’ll never let him know that. “Obviously.”
“Fuck, this is so cool,” Jarred says. He’s like an excitable puppy. About every twenty-five seconds, he interrupts, reminding one of us of a highlight from our career.
It’s sweet. I’m touched, really, that he knows so much about mine.
He has this funny habit while in the crease of making noises every time he blocks a shot.
Boing. Ding. Bing.
Like he’s a pinball machine. It’s oddly entertaining. Like those ridiculous ASMR videos my little sisters love so much.
But he’s good. And young. He’s got the time and the talent to become great. And working with the three of us? We’ll make sure it happens. It’s fun. Molding players. I can see why Gavin enjoys coaching so much.
I, however, am thrilled to be back in the crease.
“Make sure you get some sleep tonight.” With that, Brooks releases us.
The second we’re in the hallway, Jarred is bouncing by my side. “Are you excited? You must be so excited. Your first game in the NHL. This is huge, Addie. Huge!”
Joy washes over me. His excitement is contagious. “Yeah, I am excited. Thanks, Jer.”
He rubs his hands together. “Doing anything to celebrate? You guys have a pizza tradition, right?”
Brows furrowed, I eye JJ. How does this kid know about that?
“He talked about it during one of his first interviews,” Jarred says.
“You did?”
“You don’t remember?” he teases, acting affronted.
I’m smiling. I can’t stop smiling. Today is a good day.
Hell, any day is a good day lately. I spend my days playing hockey with JJ, and at night…
we’re…doing okay. We have dinner as a family.
Not just JJ and Avery and me, but the whole crew.
Even my brother. He’s around all the time now that his season is over.
The Revs didn’t make it to the world series, though Finn isn’t as heartbroken about it as I thought he’d be.
We were in California on Halloween, which killed JJ. But the two of us FaceTimed with Avery, who carried Vivi’s phone the whole time she was out trick-or-treating with the rest of our crew.
JJ and I sat side by side on the bed in his hotel room, so close our thighs touched, with my iPad propped up. We went for the bigger screen to get a better view of Avery’s costume. The two of us ate so many Twizzlers while we watched her that I had a stomachache that night.
The pain turned out to be a good thing.
Otherwise I don’t know that I could have left JJ alone after we said good night to his little girl.
He was struggling. Wearing a fake smile while talking to Avery while his body language screamed devastation.
I can’t imagine the stress he’s under as Avery’s only present parent.
It kills me that she doesn’t have a mother who would do anything for her like mine does for me.
But she’s got JJ, and if he could clone himself so he could work and be with Avery at all times, he wouldn’t hesitate.
If Sidney had been healthy, he could have made both work. He could have taken a red-eye after tucking Avery in and been back in time to dress for the game. But without Sidney, JJ’s presence on the ice has been mandatory, and traveling overnight like that would be too much of a risk.
It’s a relief knowing he shouldn’t have to face a situation like that again for the rest of the season.
Because he’s got me.
I’m practically bursting with excitement. Like there’s a firecracker show in my chest, erupting in reds and greens and—who the hell am I kidding? The only color it’s shooting is Bolts blue. I was meant for this team. Meant to wear this color. And tomorrow, I get to do that on the ice.
“I don’t remember every interview you ever gave,” I say flippantly.
Though there was a time I hung on his every word, so I probably saw it and was positively giddy when he told the press about our little tradition.
“But pizza is for after games, not before.” My phone buzzes in my pocket as I explain to Jarred.
“Let’s do something else to celebrate, then,” JJ says.
Smiling, I peer down at the notification on the screen, but when the words register, my stomach sinks. The smile falls right along with it. “I, uh, actually have plans.”
“Oh,” JJ mumbles.
Head lifted, I force a smile. “With Scott.”
That’s another thing I’ve done a lot of the last two weeks. Talked to Scott. I’ve been on two dates with him as well. He’s…sweet. And funny. And he does absolutely nothing for me.
When it comes to Scott, I wish I felt the kind of fireworks I feel for hockey. Or the butterflies I feel for JJ.
But it’s still new. Maybe that will change.
JJ nods, his dark hair a little unruly, his expression unchanged. Easy. Smiling. Fine. “Right. We should get home, then.”
Those simple words cause an ache in my chest. Now that I’m not his coach, I was sure he’d make his move. That he’d try again.
And maybe he would have, if not for Tabitha. The whole marriage thing is kind of an issue.
While my feelings for Scott are practically nonexistent, the thought of JJ’s marriage summons a lot of strong emotions. None of them good. It makes me sick. And sad. And it makes me wish for something that I can’t change. A past we didn’t get.
But if I take a chance, if I believe enough in the both of us and will it to be true, could we maybe rewrite a little of our story?
Could we have a future?