Chapter 4
Axel
Monday morning, I had my first official meeting with the Nighthawks management and Coach Byers.
“I can’t tell you how happy we are to have you join the team.
I thought you might take LA’s offer, but I’m delighted you ultimately chose us.
” Hanson Byers was in his second year as the head coach of the New York Nighthawks.
At thirty-seven, he was the youngest coach in the league.
“New York ticked off a lot of boxes for me. I’m happy to be here, sir.”
“I hope you find the team accommodations okay,” the GM said.
“You’re welcome to lease the penthouse this season, or we can help you find your own place.
You don’t have to decide today, just let us know.
” He stood and shook my hand. “We think you’re exactly the spark we need out there.
I know Decker is beyond happy you’re here. ”
I chuckled, thinking about what Luca said about him. “That’s what I hear.”
“Let us know what we can do to help you get settled in.”
He left the room, leaving me with Coach Byers. “Do you have any questions for me?”
“What’s the availability of ice time during the summer?”
He stood and went to his computer. “I’ll forward you the schedule that outlines the community skate days and the peewee league practice.
The serious parents who think they have the next Gretsky like them to skate in the summer.
But they don’t start until late afternoon.
The fifteen and sixteen-year-olds’ rec leagues usually arrive around six. ”
When I was sixteen, hockey was the one thing that kept me out of trouble through all the difficult times with my mother. It was my escape, and how I discovered that the more I blocked everything out, the better I got.
“I sent it to you. Looks like mornings are wide open.”
“Great. I think I’ll loosen up and hit the ice for a while. It’s been a few days since I’ve stretched out.”
He clapped me on the shoulder. “You do that. Your ID will get you into the building. I’ll be here a while if you need me.”
I picked up my bag and headed down the hallway to the locker room.
I took in the bright new arena and state-of-the-art facilities.
The owner had spared no expense to enhance the fan experience with restaurants and gear shops, along with physical activities for the kids during intermissions.
Mitchell Hoffman had been serious about this venture, reassuring me I’d made the right choice.
Inside the locker room, I found my cubbie, already labeled with my name.
A few were empty with no nameplate, while I found Decker across from mine, and Kozlov next to him.
Trades were constantly made, and I was sure I wouldn’t be the only new Nighthawk before the season started.
It was inevitable. I put my bag on the floor, dug out my skates, and unwrapped my practice sticks. “Welcome to New York, Hughes.”
It wasn’t long before I dug my blades into the ice, skating lap after lap, trying to clear my head. The scent of the refrigerant overpowered the smell of embedded sweat in the offseason. This building wasn’t old enough to have that unique aroma yet.
Most players, like Decker and Kozlov, took advantage of the two-month break to spend time with their families.
I used the time to keep in shape. The rink had always been where I felt most at home.
My coaches became my role models, picking me up and dropping me off at home when my mother couldn’t.
All that kid wanted was for someone to be present.
By the time my stepfather came around, I was too old to care anymore.
When I’d exhausted myself to the point that my legs burned, I called it a day after thirty minutes on the bike to cool down. I was feeling productive until I walked outside. There, sitting on one of the benches, sat my father, Davis Kennerly himself. He looked up and immediately got to his feet.
“Axel,” he said as if all the air had been knocked from his lungs.
“What are you doing here?”
I watched as he shifted on his feet, then shoved his hands in his pockets.
He looked so much older than the last time I saw him two years ago.
More gray hair. More lines on his face. Not quite the put-together businessman I’d seen in my brother’s photos.
“I was wanting to take you to lunch. I hoped we might talk.”
I tightened my jaw and looked at the ground. “I don’t think there’s anything to say. You made your choice years ago.”
He swallowed and stepped closer. “I know, son. I’ve made so many mistakes in my life. I just want to make it up to you. And Mason.”
I looked out over the parking lot, not sure what to feel. “How did you find me?”
More shifting. “I knew you’d need to meet with management. My guy called and told me you were here. So I came over.”
“You’ve had me followed.”
He looked uncomfortable. “Only because when I heard you were coming to New York, I hoped it was a sign that you might find a way to forgive me.”
I stared at him. We had his eyes. Same shape, same green color. “That’s not why I’m here. You are a heartless liar, and I wouldn’t know where or how to start even if I wanted to.” I stepped closer and pointed at his chest. “You destroyed this. Not me.”
“Your brother has forgiven me.”
I knew his statement wasn’t completely true. “What Mason does is up to him. Save us both time and forget I exist. You did it from the time I was born, and you can do it again.”
I stepped by him and made it three steps before he spoke. “I’m going to find a way to convince you, too, Max.”
Hearing the name he used to call me before he disappeared from my life, stabbed me in the chest. I turned and looked at him. “I’m not the teenager you left behind to clean up your mess. I no longer need or want your approval.”
I turned, but he stopped me again. “I love you, Maxwell. And I’m proud of you. More than you know.”
That time I didn’t turn. I kept walking and stuffed my pain down once again.
When I got back to the apartment, I placed my phone on the kitchen counter and headed to the refrigerator for another electrolyte drink. The GM’s staff had filled the refrigerator with all the things professional athletes might need.
Taking a seat on the lounger, I scrolled through my email as the city buzzed with life.
Even though it was hot as fuck in July, I embraced the subtle differences from home.
Honking cars and the sounds of busy people were a symphony of their own as I looked at the schedule for the upcoming season.
Adding it to my personal calendar, it narrowed the time I had to find a place to live and to get ready for the pre-season to start.
We would criss-cross North America over the grueling seven-month season.
It would be even longer when the playoffs started.
Traveling was second-best to the actual game.
It helped me forget the things I was missing.
Until my eyes snagged on Los Angeles. He was the other reason I’d made the leap to the NHL.
A soft knock on the door drew my attention away. Hauling my sore legs from the lounger, I strode across the room to open the door.
“Mr. Hughes?” Recognition washed over his face. I wasn’t in the mood for fans, but he had my delivery.
“Yes. Come in.” Stepping back, I widened the door for him to enter with the two trolleys carrying my life from the UK. I’d had to ship some things separately rather than hauling them all onto the airplane. When he was inside, I closed the door behind him.
“Welcome to New York. The Nighthawks are really lucky to have you.”
I huffed a laugh. Sucking up already. “Thank you. I didn’t know they were going to announce it before I got here officially.”
His head bobbed enthusiastically, like a puppy. “Yes, sir. It’s all over the papers and TV. The analysts say the only way the Nighthawks stand a chance is with a big-name player like you.” He pointed at the Ice Tigers bag that held my equipment. “I bet they’re pissed you’re gone.”
Folding my arms across my chest, I wasn’t in the mood to discuss how difficult it had been to leave my team. “Something like that.” I motioned toward the bedroom. “Put them in the other room. Please.”
His excitement waned. “Oh, yes, sir,” he said, jumping to attention. “Sorry.” He pointed to himself. “I didn’t mean to talk you to death. I’m a big hockey fan. I grew up playing. Love it, really. Rangers fan.” The moment the words escaped his mouth, he knew he’d made a mistake.
I raised a brow at his declaration of fandom for my newest rival. “Not the Nighthawks, then?”
His eyes widened. “Well,” he stammered. “Not yet. But I might be. When you play. Later. Maybe.”
My unimpressed stare made him uncomfortable. It was the same reaction most people had to me. My ‘fuck off’ demeanor kept most people at arm’s length.
When he returned a few moments later, I marched to the door and swung it open. Standing like a sentinel, I watched as he made haste with the empty trolleys. Pulling a twenty from my pocket, I extended it to him.
He took it from me with a tight smile. Golden retriever gone. “Thank you. Will there be anything else, Mr. Hughes?”
“No,” I growled. He didn’t deserve my attitude. Sighing, I tried again. “Thank you.”
Nodding furiously, he stepped into the hallway. “Should you need anything, please call the front desk.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, Ranger,” I replied, like it was the dirtiest word I’d ever spoken. Sometimes I just couldn’t help myself.
Embarrassment colored his face as I closed the door.
I looked around the apartment the Nighthawks had secured for me.
The place was entirely too big for one person, but the view of the city from the terrace and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the East River was spectacular.
It was an opulent penthouse with three-bedroom suites and a terrace.
But with my contract came the expectation of an extravagant lifestyle and nightlife.
I had the option to lease the place from the team, but it wasn’t the right fit.
If I were going to stay in New York, I needed a place of my choosing.
My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten in a few hours.
Decker was busy with his wife and kids, and Kozlov was off with his girlfriend for the weekend.
“Dinner for one,” I murmured. As I looked out over the city, Luca came to mind.
I had his number, and there was no reason I couldn’t call to check on him.
Going back to get my phone, I pulled up his number and hit call. It went straight to voicemail again. The damn thing would consume me all weekend, as call after call went to his full inbox. I’d lost all patience by the time he finally answered three days later.