Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
JESSIE
I n the first couple of seasons after I joined the Scorpions and whenever Coach announced we had one-on-one practice drills, I’d be thinking of excuses to explain why I wouldn’t be coming out on top.
I trained too hard in the gym the night before.
I picked up the flu virus that was going around.
I’m not happy with my skates.
Anything, literally anything, to pass off why, Jessie Callaghan—arguably the fastest guy in the NHL with the stick skills to match—couldn’t perform in a drill that was made for him.
The only practice worse than that? Sprints and agility tests between cones. Alcohol slows you down, especially when you still have last night’s session sitting in your system.
It got to the point where I’d forgotten what it was like to feel like myself, not only on the ice, but to actually think straight. All I could focus on was when I’d be able to have my next drink to ease my mind and help push reality back into the box where it belonged.
But right now, those days feel like a distant nightmare and have since the day Mia came back into my life.
We’re sitting in the briefing room before this morning’s practice, but rather than listen to the conversations going on around me, all I’ve been able to think about is my girl and how she’s turned my life from something I despised into an existence where I can actually look in the mirror and not hate the person standing in front of me.
“I want you to all watch the video replay of Callaghan and focus in on the following observations.” Coach breaks me from my trance, pointing to footage from a sprint drill I absolutely nailed last week. “One, weight distribution. This might sound really fucking obvious to you as pro players, but too many of you aren’t keeping your weight on your heels. Two, balance. I want to see more of you working on core exercises as part of your free time in the gym. Balance comes from the core, and I’m tired of repeating the same message.”
Coach Burrows looks across at me and quirks a brow, inviting me to add anything to what he just said.
I clear my throat and lean back in my chair, the video paused on me taking a corner. “Yeah, I’d agree with that, Coach. But speed is pretty pointless if you aren’t thinking two or three plays ahead. Obviously, we’re all great at that, but if you want to get faster, your game analysis has to get faster too.”
Right there, that was my problem in college and for the majority of my career. My head was so far up my ass; even if my body was moving at twenty miles per hour, my fucked-up brain was making all the wrong decisions.
“Couldn’t have put it better myself.” Coach rounds the table and claps me on the shoulder.
The feeling of praise is all too foreign. Since that day I had it out with Graham, Coach has never breathed a word about Mia to me. Something tells me I have my girlfriend to thank for that.
He walks across to the door and pulls it open, looking back at the guys. “This morning, I want to see attention to the basics, and I want to see them done right.”
“Planning on going home at any point tonight?” Jensen stands at the entrance to the ice, fully dressed and showered.
I shake my head and focus back on the line of pucks in front of me, taking my first wrist shot and burying it in the top right, the exact spot I picked out.
“Damn,” Jensen responds. “I’d say you’ve got that down.”
I shrug and line up another puck, winding up and hitting exactly the same place.
“Want to get a lift with me to the party?”
I shake my head, still focused on the drill. “I’m gonna get an Uber and meet you all back there. Doesn’t start for another couple of hours, right?”
“Still don’t know why you don’t just buy a car. Also, you know being late to this birthday party is the equivalent of signing your own death warrant. Even I’m scared of my own wife right now.”
Truth is, I could afford it. But my financial priority is buying a house for me and Mia and setting my mom up when I can get her to Seattle.
“I won’t be late, just finishing up,” I reply, tipping my head over my shoulder and smiling at Jensen.
Tapping his hand on the on the board, he turns to leave. “You’re really going for Gretzky’s record, aren’t you?”
“Yep. If I make it, then we’ll lift the Stanley. No doubt.”
“All right, catch you in a bit,” Jensen says, and I hear his footsteps fade out down the hallway.
It must be another fifteen minutes when I hear a side door to the rink open and close behind me.
Expecting it to be one of the maintenance staff, I carry on my routine, having moved on to slap shots.
“That’s probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I whip around to see Mia standing exactly where Jensen was. “How did you get in here?”
She taps her finger against the side of her head as I make my way over to her, pulling off my gloves and setting my stick against the side. “I have my ways.”
When I wrap my arms around her ass and lift her up, she loops her legs around my waist and I skate us to center ice, spinning us around slowly as she hovers above me, her arms thrown over my shoulders and her bag in one hand.
“Breaking and entering now. This good-girl mask of yours is slipping further, Sweetheart.”
“Jensen gave me the code,” she admits with a giggle, the sound giving me life. “I knew you’d still be practicing late, so I came to pick you up. I also knew you wouldn’t be checking your phone, and the last message from Kate read something like, If anyone is late, I cannot be held responsible for my actions .”
Gliding back to the edge of the rink, I step off the ice and carry her down the hallway to the locker room. “Better get going then.”
The second I push through the door to what I know is an empty room, Mia pinches her nose. “Ugh, Destroyers or the Scorpions—both locker rooms are equally gross.”
I set her down on her feet and take a seat on the bench, undoing the laces on my skates. “I don’t remember you complaining about the smell the last time you were alone with me after practice. In fact”—I sit up straight and pull my bottom lip between my teeth, taking in how gorgeous she looks in a gold skirt and purple top—“I don’t remember you saying all that much at all.”
She props her hands on her hips, fighting a smile. “Is that right?”
“Come here,” I say, flipping my hands toward me.
When Mia steps up to me and sets her bag down on the bench next to us, I reach forward and pull her down onto my lap, and she sits across me, her arms around my neck.
“I think this was one of my favorite moments we shared,” she whispers, resting her head against my shoulder.
I nod, remembering Mia sneaking into the locker room after practice in her hot-as-fuck black suit. I’d stayed late that night as well, not because I wanted to practice my shots, but in the hopes that she’d come and find me.
Tipping her chin up with my finger, I bring her in for a kiss. “Remember the photo we took right after we finished making out for, like, ten minutes straight?”
She chuckles and bites down on her bottom lip. “The selfie?”
I roll my eyes. “The one where I had to get the angle just right.”
Reaching behind her, she pulls out her phone from her purse and unlocks it, bringing up a saved gallery. When she finds the photo of us both, she holds it up in front of us at the exact same angle we took it. “Ugh, I look so much better there.”
I can’t help the emotion as it floods my senses, and I drop my head down, taking a second to center myself.
When I pick my head back up, I look at my girlfriend, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Trust me, there is nothing more beautiful than you in this moment. Will you take another for me?”
Her eyes scan mine as she hovers the phone above us. “Yeah, sure.”
The click of the photo echoes around the silent locker room as she brings the phone toward her and inspects the photo. “It’s like a then-and-now kind of thing.”
“Can you send me both shots?”
She looks up, her brows slightly knitted. “You don’t have the original?”
I swallow down the lump in my throat. I told Mia I’d answer every question she had. “When it all ended, you and me, I was told a trade was the only option. I let everything go.” The moment my thumb hovered over the Delete button replays in my head. “I was convinced that I’d never see you again and thought I didn’t deserve to either. So, I deleted every memory, thinking it would somehow erase the pain.” Bringing my hand to the nape of her neck, I pull her as close as I possibly can. “Turns out, love isn’t pixelated, and you can’t just erase the emotions.”
When she pulls her leg around to straddle me, I swear I can feel her heat through my pants.
“Everyone you have in your life—me, your friends, your fans—you absolutely deserve, Jessie. If there’s one thing my mom taught me, it’s that some of us find our people sooner than others, and sometimes, we find them too early as well.” She presses a palm over her heart. “I know if my mom had been around to meet you, then she would’ve fought for us to be together sooner, and she definitely would’ve told my dad to hear you out. She never believed that every piece of a puzzle had to fit perfectly in place for it to make sense. I know we still don’t have all the pieces, but the picture looks pretty perfect to me. You’re perfect to me.”
I go to open my mouth, but she places a finger against my lips.
“You don’t need to say anything because you know I’m right.”
I press my lips together in a smile. “I was gonna say, you’re definitely right about not having all the pieces.”
She looks down at her sneakers as they dangle above the floor. “I never thought I’d say this, but maybe the only way to get your mom to Seattle is to go see her and talk face-to-face. Go at a time when you know your dad is at work or when he goes out.”
I consider her suggestion and finally nod. “I think that’s my best shot. Didn’t work last time, but I have to try again.”
“She is worth so much more than him. No one should stay with someone like that.”
Pressing a kiss to her forehead, I close my eyes, appreciating how special the woman in front of me really is. “I know; I’ve lost count of the times I told her that. I just need to help her see that there’s a better life.”
Mia climbs down from my lap and grabs her bag. “I’m going to use the bathroom. But I say call her, leave her a message if she doesn’t pick up.”
When Mia pushes through the door, I lean down and grab my phone from my bag, the two images she sent lighting up my home screen.
There is a better life.
Taking a risk that Dad might be around, I hit dial on Mom’s number and wait for the phone to go to voicemail like it always does when she can’t pick up.
“Mom, hi,” I say as her voicemail connects. “It’s Jessie. I’m sorry I didn’t come home last time I was in town; things were kind of crazy and … yeah.” I inhale a deep breath. “Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something. I have a couple of days between games and practices next week, and I was thinking of coming over. Maybe I could take you out for food or something if you’re up to it. Just like the old days. Yeah, anyway, call me back, okay? I … I care about you.”