Cayden
SEVEN
My eyes don’t lose focus as I keep track of the black disc headed my way. My body is on high alert as I grip my stick tighter, analyzing and anticipating the next move.
I ignore the sweat dripping down my neck and the fast beat in my chest as I hone in on the puck being passed back and forth—my teammates waiting for the perfect moment to try and get past me.
The stick slightly raises, and I brace for the impact as it sails through the air, aiming straight for the upper left-hand side of my net. My glove shoots out at the precise moment, feeling the thud as the puck slams into the leather of my glove.
“Fuck,” I hear McCormick mutter as his blades stop abruptly, spraying ice onto my leg guards.
Grinning, I drop the puck at his feet and lift my mask onto my head.
“So close,” I tsk, knowing I’m pissing him off even more when I see his scowl. “But, not close enough,” I grin.
“Fuck you,” he breathes, as he cups the puck with his stick for another go around, knowing he’s not going to stop until he gets past me or the coach pulls us in to end practice.
Laughing, I pull my glove off with my other arm, keeping it secure against my side as I reach for my water bottle sitting on top of the goalie net.
“Your left shoulder gave you away,” I say, taking a deep pull of water before continuing. “I knew exactly where you were aiming because of the slight shift of your arm.”
“How the fuck could you possibly know that from a shoulder movement?”
“It’s my job to know that. Why the fuck do you think anyone rarely gets past me? Ninety-nine percent of the time, I know the play before the puck even touches the stick.”
Flipping my mask down, I put my glove back on and crouch down into position.
“Try again, but this time, don’t be so obvious with your body language until the very last second, and it’s too late for me to react.”
He nods slightly and takes control of the puck, skating away before stick-handling back toward me. My eyes stay locked on his movements as I pick up on the slight adjustments, trying to narrow down what his body language is telling me.
When he shifts slightly to the right, I prepare for the bottom corner as the puck makes contact with his stick.
Dropping down, I cover the opening it’s headed for, but at the last second, he flicks it toward the center, sending it shooting straight between my legs, giving him the perfect five-hole goal.
Turning my head sharply, I see it land behind the red line just as McCormick appears, grinning like an idiot behind the net.
“Nice one,” I laugh, standing to full height. “It’s been a minute since someone got a five hole on me.”
“I’ve always wanted to get one past you that way,” he grins, tapping his stick to my leg pads as he skates by.
“Don’t get used to it,” I call after him as I hear him chuckle.
I do a few more rounds of one-on-ones with the rest of the team before Coach Goldman blows his whistle signaling us in.
“We’ve got a big home game tomorrow, boys. Carolina has been on a winning streak lately, and we need to end it here. I expect you all to be rested and ready.” He eyes us all huddled in a circle around him, making sure he’s getting his point across.
“We’ll be ready, Coach,” Stone grins with excitement, always up for the harder challenges.
I have no doubt he will lead this team to a win tomorrow.
Being the top-scoring NHL player in the league, we were lucky to get him as our captain this year.
He’s a damn good leader, and if we keep playing like we have been, the Stanley Cup is as good as ours this year.
“Let’s see that you are,” Coach nods before going over a few more of his notes he made during practice.
When he’s finished and satisfied that we all understand what needs to be done tomorrow night, he dismisses us to the locker room.
“Blade, stay back for a second,” he says when I make a move to skate away.
Once we are alone, he takes off his dark reading glasses and slides them into the front of his Bolts pullover.
“Don’t forget you have that session today. I expect you to be there,” his brown eyes hold mine as I try not to roll my eyes in annoyance.
“I’ll be there,” I grunt, wishing I didn’t have to waste my afternoon with some yoga bullshit, but I promised him I would go and at least try it out.
“Look,” he sighs. “I know you think it’s pointless, but regular physical therapy is not working. Lots of athletes do restorative yoga and have seen great results.”
“I promised you I would go, and I will. Not sure how lying on a mat and aligning my fucking chakras will help, but I guess it won’t hurt to give it a try.”
“I’m surprised you even know what a chakra is,” he smiles in amusement.
“Truthfully, I have no fucking idea,” I chuckle. “Do you?” My eyebrow raises in question.
“Not a fucking clue,” he laughs, adjusting the team ballcap on his head. “But whatever the hell they are, fix them if they are broken. We need you in top form. And go easy on the teacher, will you? It’s a friend of mine’s daughter, and I promised her you would behave.”
Great.
Not only do I have to spend an hour in a hot yoga room with a stranger, but it’s also a young female to boot. I get to awkwardly lie there while she tries to contort me into a pretzel, probably making small talk about things I couldn't care less about.
“I’ll be nice,” I grumble, “but if it doesn’t help, I go back to PT and ice baths.”
“It’ll help,” he grins. “My friend, Sage, talked highly about her daughter’s ability to release trapped pain in the body. You have no physical injury, so maybe something else is causing it,” he shrugs and walks down the bench toward the entrance leading to the locker room.
What the hell is that supposed to mean?
Pulling the mask off the top of my head, I tuck it under my arm along with my glove and rake my hand through my damp hair in frustration.
Fuck. What have I gotten myself into?
Wanting to just be done with it, I head to the shower to change into grey sweats and a black tee. Most of the guys have either headed to the gym or are in press meetings, so I’m able to be in and out of the locker room fairly quickly.
Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I check in with Mae as I head to my SUV. Satisfied that everything is good at home, I throw my bag into the front seat and head in the direction of Crystal Isle.
I’ve never really ventured outside of Bayside much when I’m home, so I was pleasantly surprised when I saw this small town when I took Scarlett to her dance class. It reminds me of Blue Haven, where Knox and Savi live with its cozy, coastal vibes.
Once you get on the outskirts of Bayside’s busy streets, it's an easy thirty-minute drive along the coast, and I find myself enjoying the scenery and quietness of it all. All too soon, I see the Welcome to Crystal Isle sign as I approach the city limits.
Houses line the coastal road on either side as people walk their dogs or bike to the beach. Further down the road, small businesses start to appear as I slow down and begin to enter the downtown area.
I pass a restaurant on the beach called Rusty’s and see people eating lunch on the deck, enjoying the music drifting out of the speakers as I drive by. Crystal Isle Grocery Store is next, along with more quaint small-town shops.
When I see the sign for BellaLuna Yoga, I turn into the small gravel parking lot designated for the downtown area and park along the side of the buildings where I did last night for dance.
Shutting off the engine, I stare at the side of the building. I knew when I took Scarlett to dance that the yoga studio was next door, and at the time, it didn’t bother me.
But now…now all I can think about is how the hell I’m going to relax in a yoga session when I can already feel her through the building.
Releasing my tight grip on the steering wheel, I pull my cap further down on my head as if I can magically blend into the scenery if she happens to see me through her window.
Grabbing my phone and keys, I step out and walk around to the front. I quickly walk past Moonrise Dance Studio and resist the urge to peer in the window to try and get a glimpse of brunette hair and green eyes that haunted my dreams last night, despite running until my body gave out.
It’s clear after this morning that Scarlett would be devastated if I found another dance studio. She’s talked nonstop about Luna and actually believes she’s a real-life fairy ballerina. I don’t have the heart to switch her just because I’m terrified of how she makes me feel.
No, I just need to suck it up and do my best to avoid her as much as I can because it’s one road I’m not willing to go back down.
Pulling the door open to the yoga studio, I step inside, and the smell of lavender immediately envelops me. The place is inviting with the dark wood floors that match the dance studio and various plants to make it feel homey.
Shelves on the wall hold jewelry of some kind and candles, probably from local artists in the area, along with some BellaLuna yoga gear hanging on a small rack.
“Hi, you must be Cayden.”
I glance at the counter and see an attractive older woman smiling at me. Her green eyes seem familiar, but I’m having a hard time placing them.
“That’s me,” I smile.
“Brady told me you were coming,” she says, mentioning my coach. “Although he did tell me you might change your mind.” Her eyes twinkle with amusement as I chuckle softly.
“The thought did cross my mind, I’m not going to lie.”
“Well, I’m glad you decided to give us a try,” she laughs. “I’m Sage, by the way, the owner here.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Sage.”
“Likewise,” she smiles. “So, Brady already took care of the paperwork, so you are all ready to go. My daughter will be doing your session today. She is preparing the room now and is waiting for you. Follow me,” she beckons, stepping out from behind the counter, “and I’ll show you where to go.”
“Thanks.” I follow her down a short hallway, passing what I’m assuming are the main yoga rooms, each with wooden floors and mirrors lining the walls, before stopping at the last door on the right.
“She’s right in there. I have a feeling this will be good for you.” She pats my arm and smiles warmly. “My daughter has a way of making people feel better.”
“So, I’ve been told,” I murmur.
Sage just smiles, and I get the feeling she’s hiding something, but I don’t have time to ponder it as I turn the knob and step inside, shutting the door behind me.
The room is dimly lit and on the warm side as soft music plays in the background. Two yoga mats are laid out on the floor along with various straps and what looks to be pillows of some kind. The smell of lavender hits my senses again, and I breathe deep, enjoying the light floral smell.
Her daughter must have stepped out because the room is empty as I take in the area. It’s on the smaller side compared to the rest of the studios, but the wooden floors and mirrors are replicated in here, matching the other yoga rooms.
I turn when the door opens and shuts behind me. My heart starts to thud so hard, I wouldn’t be surprised if it could be heard in the next room.
Green eyes widen in surprise when she sees me, and lips so pink and lush that it takes everything in me not to wonder what they taste like as they part in a gasp.
I see the resemblance now, clear as day, as I start to put the pieces together. She’s the spitting image of her mom.
“You’re Sage’s daughter,” I say quietly, feeling the tension in my body double when I realize I’ll be with Luna for the next hour.
Alone.
Doing God knows what on that mat together.
My pulse picks up faster as heat crawls up the back of my neck. My instincts react before my brain can even catch up with what is happening.
“You’re my new private client?” she asked, shocked, her hand going to her chest in disbelief.
“It appears that way,” I mutter under my breath. “You didn’t know?”
“No. My mom sets up my yoga schedule. I don’t like to know too much about the client before I meet them,” she explains, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear that has fallen out of her ponytail.
“It gives me a blank slate to work with, and I get a better sense of what the person needs. All I knew was that I was seeing an athlete who kept having recurring pain in their hip area.”
I study her nervous body language and realize I’m not the only one who thinks this is a bad idea. “That about sums it up.”
“So, I guess we should get started then,” she says quickly, walking past me and keeping a good distance between us. She goes to the mini-fridge against the wall, pulling out two bottles of water. “You can set your personal belongings on the table there, and I’ll need you barefoot.”
“How does this work exactly?” I set my phone and keys on the table and begin to remove my socks and gym shoes. I can already feel the room getting warmer from the panels as I throw my hat down as well and run a hand through my hair that’s still slightly damp from the shower.
“We’ll start with some breathwork to get you in a relaxed state, and from there, I’ll get you in some poses to release some of the tension that is rolling off of you.” She hides a smile, and I notice a cute dimple appear on her cheek.
Focus Blade.
I just have to keep it together for one hour. I remind myself.
Just sixty fucking minutes.
“And if I do my job right, then you’ll lose what you are trying so hard to keep.” She eyes me from across the room, and I’ve never felt so wide open as I do right now. It’s like she sees right through everything I try so hard to hide.
“And what is it that I’m trying so hard to keep?” I ask quietly, staring fate right in the eyes.
“Control,” she says, tilting her head slightly, keeping her gaze trained on me. “You don’t let go of it even when your body screams at you to do so.”
It’s then that I realize I’m totally fucked.