Chapter 18
HAYDEN
This week has been a lot. But it’s also been incredible.
Getting back to it, pushing my body to its very limits, and remembering just how happy playing hockey makes me has been everything I needed.
It’s been a grueling week, even more so than I remember from last year, but I suspect that’s because it was even more of a blur the first time around.
I had no idea what to expect, and I’d spent all summer training, not grieving.
But despite worrying about my lack of preparation, I proved myself to still be worthy of my spot on the second line of this team.
Or at least, I hope so. The coaching staff must have pushed us as hard as possible, but they’ve also given me great feedback.
I’m ready for it. Ready to jump over those boards and fight for our place in the Stanley Cup Final next year. And I know that Rylee will be looking down at me, cheering me on every step of the way.
Looping my bowtie around my neck, I step in front of my mirror.
The toll this week has taken on me is obvious with the dark shadows under my eyes. While training might have been hard, and a great distraction from everything else going on in my life, the pain and grief never leave.
The guys have been keeping an extra close eye on me. Hell, so have the girls. Every day, someone—mainly Handsy—has turned up with goodies, and I always get first choice, which I’m not going to complain about.
The cinnamon buns Freya sent in a couple of days ago were insane. I could eat those every day for the rest of my life and never get bored.
My parents' check-ins have been coming a little more regularly, and I hope that’s a sign that they’re also managing to see through the dark cloud engulfing them both.
They’ve promised to come out for both our first home exhibition game and our home opener, but I’m trying really hard not to look forward to it. They’re struggling just as much as I am, and as much as I want them close right now, I understand how hard they’re fighting.
But I’ve got their tickets ready, and I’ll just hold on to the hope that they can be there.
For the first time ever, I only needed two tickets.
All my life, no matter what league I’ve been playing in, I’ve needed three.
All three of them have always been my biggest supporters, and I don’t know how I feel about the fact that if they do come, I’ll look up and only see the two of them.
There’s a part of me that thinks it’ll be easier if I don’t look.
If they’re not here, then I might be able to pretend that everything is normal and they just couldn’t come. But if they’re there without her…
“Fuck,” I hiss as I secure my bowtie and check myself over in the mirror.
Last year, Rylee was my date. I used some of my signing bonus to buy her a designer dress, and I booked both her and Mom for a day of pampering before I took my sister to her first high-profile event. Although, to be fair, it was mine too, and I was shitting bricks.
She was nervous as hell. Her entire body was trembling as I took her arm and led her inside, past all the flashing cameras.
A few people called my name, but seeing as I was a new draft pick and relatively unknown, others garnered way more attention.
This year, I’m suspecting it’ll be a little different, and not just because Rylee isn’t going to be at my side.
I exhale a heavy breath as the weight of that realization makes me want to strip this tux off and crawl under my sheets instead of spending the night socializing.
It’s going to be okay.
You’ve got this.
I nod, trying to believe my little pep talk before spinning around, pocketing my cell and wallet, slipping my feet into my shoes, grabbing my mask, and walking toward my front door.
The car is due any minute, and as much as I might want to bail on this whole night, I’m not going to do it.
I’m barely on the sidewalk when a blacked-out town car appears before me.
Taking another steeling breath, I pull it open and peer inside.
“Whoa, look at you,” Bea gushes, making my cheeks heat.
“Excuse me?” Rett grunts.
Bea rolls her eyes, ignoring her fiancé as he pouts. “You’re so gonna score,” she says confidently.
I won’t lie, her words lift me up a little, even if I have no intention of spending the night with a woman. Well, that’s a lie—there is one I’d quite happily spend the night with, even if all we do is watch musicals on TV.
“What’s that smile?” Rett asks. “Have you met someone?”
“What? No,” I argue, possibly a little too forcefully. “When the hell would I have had time for that?”
Rett shrugs. “There’s always time.”
I don’t respond, and I also don’t lose their suspicious gazes.
Thankfully, despite clearly not believing me, they change the subject. It’s almost enough to distract me from what’s about to happen, but not quite.
I’m a nervous wreck as the car pulls up in front of the hotel where tonight’s event is being hosted.
Aside from the press conferences and interviews the PR team have organized in the lead-up to our first games, I’ve managed to steer clear of the media.
Tonight, though, they’re right outside, and they’re about to take photos of me that will forever document the pain etched into my features.
“Are you okay?” Bea asks, her small hand landing on my upper arm, squeezing gently in support.
“I had Rylee with me last year,” I whisper. “It’s just…” I let the words trail off. They don’t need saying.
“You’ve got this,” Rett says confidently.
“And she’s right here with you,” Bea says. “Always.”
I close my eyes, hoping to banish the tears that threaten.
As I expected, Bea welcomed us all in with open arms the other night after my breakdown at the bar, and we spent a few hours forgetting about life while she beat all of us at CoD. Honestly, for such a sweet and thoughtful woman, she’s a beast with an Xbox controller and a shotgun.
“Yeah,” I agree before the door opens and the chaos happening outside the car rushes in.
I’ve got this.
I step out and focus on the crowd, on the kids at the front who call my name.
While my actual mask for tonight might be in my pocket, I pull on the figurative one I need to get through this as I smile for photos and sign anything that’s thrust at me, letting myself get swept along by those who support us day in, day out, win or lose.
By the time I step into the hotel, my heart is full.
I love all our fans, but it’s the kids that really get me.
The ones who look up at us and see their dreams playing out in real life.
We are the proof that it’s possible. I remember what it felt like and how inspired I was every time I caught a glimpse of a real-life NHL player the few times we went to watch the Seattle Bandits when I was a kid.
A hand lands on my shoulder as I make my way toward the bar, and when I look back, I find Killer stepping up beside me.
“You killed it out there,” he tells me. “And of course, looked insane doing it.”
I laugh. “Thanks, man. You’re not looking too awful either. The black eye really sets off the color of your bowtie.”
“Right?” he deadpans. “I thought so too.”
We might have only been training this week, but that doesn’t mean that tensions weren’t running high.
We’re all battling it out to be the best we can possibly be to secure our places on the team.
And that means that the chirping isn’t reserved for the team we’re battling against. And while it’s all over a game, those who know you best can sometimes cut you the deepest.
Killer’s black eye is courtesy of one of our third-line D-men who was trying to prove his worth to Coach. It probably goes without saying that he’s also sporting a couple of bruises, because Killer wasn’t having any of his bullshit.
Our positions are at risk all the time, but training camp? Yeah, that’s when reality really hits and the tension hits the highest of highs.
Of course, we all want to be first line. Being drafted to the NHL is only a part of the dream. Being announced on that starting lineup for game after game? Yeah, that’s really where it’s at.
But the second line was good to me last year.
I got solid ice time and made an impact, helping us all the way to the finals.
I won’t be disappointed to be in the same position this year.
While we have Killer and Rett as our starting defense pair, it’s pretty much expected.
Why the hell would Coach ever replace one of them with me?
“I’ll take two of whatever your best whiskey is,” Killer says the second the bartender steps up before us.
“Uh—”
“We’re celebrating,” Killer reasons, as I turn my back to the bar and scan the room.
It’s been decorated differently from last year, but it’s just as incredible.
Reese and her team do an outstanding job coordinating these events. I can’t even begin to imagine the number of hours that go into planning something that runs this smoothly.
But as good as the decorations are, they’re not what I really want to see.
I’ve seen Hailee numerous times this week, but we haven’t spoken more than a few words to each other.
Every single day, I’ve wanted to make an excuse and go up to her office, or swing by her apartment building as I headed home, but I’ve held back.
But I only have so much self-control, and I’m seriously hoping that tonight, she’s going to take me up on my request for a dance.
My eyes sweep over all the people already in here. I recognize a lot, even with their masks on, but there are just as many I’m not familiar with.
For the longest time, I can’t find her, and despite knowing that she’ll be here somewhere, I start to panic that maybe she had to cancel.
But then, in the far corner of the room, a flash of red catches my eye, and my heart lurches.
“Here,” Killer says, holding a glass in front of my face.
“T-thanks,” I stutter, wrapping my fingers around it.
“To a successful night,” he says before clinking his glass against mine.
Of course, this is a charity event with a silent auction designed to raise money for the charities the Vipers support, but that isn’t what Killer is raising his glass to. Financial success at this event is guaranteed. He’s commenting on his luck with the ladies tonight.
It’s always harder—or so I’ve heard—when the room isn’t full of bunnies to take your pick from.
But even still, there will be plenty of single women—or even taken ones—who are more than happy to leave their inhibitions at the hotel entrance and live out the fantasy of spending the night with a hockey player.
I’m pretty sure that’s the only reason Killer is here.
It’s certainly why he never turns up to these things with a date.
With my eyes still on the woman in the red dress, I wait for her to turn around.
The sight of her bare back has already raised my temperature.
My head fills with images of all the things I shouldn’t do, like dragging my knuckles up the curve of her spine, feeling how soft her skin is, stepping up behind her and pressing my lips to the spot between her neck and her shoulder, while breathing in her sweet scent.
Lost in my own world, I take a sip of my drink right as Hailee spins around.
I swallow, but the whiskey goes down the wrong way, and I cough, spraying alcohol everywhere, fighting like hell to keep my eyes on the woman who’s featured in every single one of my filthy fantasies for a year now, looking like a fucking goddess in red.