28. Crosby
Chapter 28
Crosby
“ T his is your first All-Stars appearance, and you’re coming off an injury. How are you feeling being here?”
I take a second to consider the question Tara Upton—reporter for Center Ice— is asking. She flashes a bright smile in the glow of the lights of this makeshift studio, set up in the ballroom of The Majestic where press is taking place for the weekend. She’s my first interview of the day, and I know I’m going to get this question a lot, but I can’t answer it until we address something else.
“I’m going to answer you, but I would feel absolutely awful if I didn't let you know there is a little lipstick on your teeth. Do you want to take care of it, and then we can start over?” I look around the space, past the cameras to where the crew stands. “Anyone have a tissue back there and a mirror?”
Tara flushes furiously as a makeup artist walks quickly to her with the necessary things to address the problem. Once they both feel her sparkling white teeth are unblemished, Tara reaches across the space to tap my hand with a genuine smile on her face.
“Thank you,” she says before settling back into the uncomfortable upright stools they have us perched on. “I don’t think anyone has ever done something like that for me. It was honestly so refreshing. I would much rather have a second of embarrassment than the rest of my career be a barrage of TikToks dedicated to a lipstick smile.”
“Sure,” I reply.
Tara’s good at her job. She’s personable and professional, asking the same questions as her male contemporaries but with an added kindness. But I’ve seen how some players in the league still easily dismiss her because she’s a woman in sports and takes a couple of extra minutes to fix her hair before the cameras roll. It’s not her problem that society cares more about how she looks than what she asks, while I’m afforded the privilege of looking like I rolled out of bed, barely stringing five words together. I can still make the highlight reel because I’m a man who hits a frozen rubber disk with a stick for a living.
“Ready to go again?” she asks, looking around at the crew.
“We’ve been filming the whole time,” the segment producer calls back. “That’s going to be brilliant.”
“Oh.” Tara smiles again. “Better make this count, then.”
She seems to like that what could have been a blunder is going to turn into gold. I clear my throat in an attempt to move things along since I have three more interviews before I can get to the arena. Today is media day, full of interviews, photos, and a brief practice in the arena. Tomorrow is the skills competition, which I’m not participating in but will attend, and Sunday starts the three-on-three tournament. Sandwiched in there are a couple more media commitments and time with Violet and the members of my team who came out to support me. Tonight, we’re all going to dinner in celebration of the halfway point of the season.
With a quick breath, Tara gives me a dip of her chin and launches into her question with repetitive ease. “This is your first All-Stars appearance, and you’re coming off an injury. How are you feeling being here?”
“Having the opportunity to come represent The Midnight feels great. I certainly wasn’t expecting it.” I think of Tex’s smile when Coach announced I would be going to Vegas for the weekend. Before I could question it or feel guilty, Tex threw an arm around me, telling me he was proud of me and he’d be cheering me on. “I’m excited to participate and show the fans they made the right choice. I’ve had an excellent predecessor in Henri Texier for the last few years, and he’s been really supportive. I’m glad we’re here together.”
“And how was the recovery? You missed a week of games and scratched for another week. We’ve only seen you on the ice for one game, which resulted in a loss. Seems like there was a delay to get you back to play.”
“I’m grateful for our team’s medical staff. They take head injuries seriously, and as much as I was willing to lace up my skates and play the next day, I think it’s really important to take the advice of medical professionals. They wanted to ensure I wouldn’t be doing anything that would cause further injury or result in lasting damage.” I pause. I’ve gone over and over this answer in my head and with Coach and Ava for the last week. “As far as the delay in my return, I wanted to make sure I was at my best again. Our team has worked hard this season to experience the success we have in this first half. That shouldn’t be put in jeopardy because one person is eager.”
I let out a light laugh, hoping to soften my answer and detract a little attention. Tara nods good-naturedly.
I hated sitting on the bench, watching the guys play their guts out, and losing when I finally did make it back on the ice was brutal. But Doc didn’t like that my headaches hadn’t fully gone away after I’d practiced. It was frustrating that it was out of my control, but I had never suffered a concussion so severe. I had to trust that I wasn’t being held back without reason. The extra time helped. My headaches have cleared, and even my ribs have healed to the point that taking a hit doesn’t feel like I’m dying.
I felt strong and focused on Tuesday night when we played Baltimore. I’m glad to have the last few weeks behind me. Except for how it brought Violet and me even closer together.
More of her clothes have moved into my closet and dresser.
Her toothbrush sits next to mine on the counter.
There’s a gaudy coffee mug in the kitchen full of British iconography, and I make sure it has an Americano in it every morning when we're home together.
I know she’s spent the nights we’ve had away games back at her place, but she’s always at mine when I get back.
The only way it could be better is if it were permanent.
“Well, I think there will be quite a few eyes on you this weekend to see just how back to form you are and where you can take The Midnight in the next half of the season.”
“It won’t just be me who takes us even further after this break,” I counter. It makes me cringe every time the media’s narrative insists I don’t have a full team of capable, talented people behind me.
“Of course,” Tara replies with a smile on her face. “Before I let you go, I couldn’t miss the opportunity to ask about your new relationship. Any conflicts of interest there?”
The neutral smile I’ve held the entire interview slips from my face for a moment when I press my lips together. Instead of the professional upturn of my lips, they pulse quickly in a painful smile. I squeeze my hands together.
For nearly two months, Violet and I have been open about our relationship. We haven’t hidden anything, but we don’t tend to go to public places that could draw unnecessary attention. This is the first time anyone in the media has directly asked about it.
I think of Coach’s office. The impersonal gray walls and empty desk.
I think of how far he went to protect her from the media when she was little.
I think of Violet’s reluctance to reveal their connection at first.
I take a deep breath before I answer, buying time to craft my response carefully.
“I’ve worked to keep the focus of the media on my time on the ice, what I contribute to my team, and even where I fall short as a player. I can address questions about those topics comfortably. But my personal life isn’t a topic I’m willing to contribute to in a public forum. I might not choose to hide who I’m involved with, but aside from expressing my happiness at being with a woman of her character, I won’t say more.”
“So, being involved with your Coach’s daughter hasn’t resulted in preferential treatment?”
“I think you already have your viral moment, Tara.” I give her a tight smile and see the moment she realizes the interview is over.
“Best of luck with the tournament, Crosby. It’s great to have you back on the ice.”
“Ethan has not stopped blowing up my phone since that video of you with Tara Upton dropped an hour ago. I told him that tonight is for the players, no outside media allowed at a private function. We’re just having dinner,” Violet calls from the bedroom of our hotel suite. I’m in the sitting area, dodging my own messages from the head of our social media department, begging me to call him. I swipe to clear another as a knock comes from the door.
“Sounds like we’ve got company. Are you decent?” I stand from the couch, pulling the sleeves of my button down through the suit jacket, adjusting the cufflinks a little.
“You tell me.”
I lift my head as Violet leans against the doorframe. She’s all long lines with the strappy heels at her feet and the arm extended up the side in a sassy pose. She has on a fitted two-piece outfit in a purple vibrant enough to honor her name. The crop top flashes a hint of skin above the high waist of a slim, fitted skirt. She’s covered modestly, but the tight fit shows off her curves and has me detouring from my path to the door.
In a few strides, I crowd her up against the doorframe, leaning close to run my nose up the length of her neck, breathing in the intoxicating summer scent she wears. One hand grips her hip, my thumb reaching up to brush the teasing flash of skin there, while the other leans next to her head, caging her in. When she sucks in a breath, her breasts brush against my chest before her exhale comes out uneven.
“You’re gorgeous.” I press a kiss below her ear, tasting the soft and tender flesh. “But the thoughts this outfit gives me are definitely of the indecent variety.”
I pull back to look down into her eyes, the silver flecks reflecting the light in a dazzling display. Her chin lifts up, angling as I bring my lips to hers.
“Wellsy! Open the damn door, I need to pee!”
I drop my head to Violet’s shoulder that’s shaking with laughter to match my own. I look back up to see her eyes pinched in the corners as she smiles wide.
“Gus,” we say in unison.
I press a chaste kiss to her crimson lips, careful not to smudge her lipstick, and turn for the door. I open it to reveal my best friend hopping back and forth before he gives my shoulder a slap and beelines for the bathroom. Tex and Allison follow him inside the suite with Obie and Bones bringing up the rear.
“I thought we had him trained to go before he leaves the house,” Violet says to the group as she gives Allison a hug. Everyone laughs, settling into various spots around the sitting room. I take a moment to feel the warmth bloom in my chest that they all came out to support me this weekend.
The bathroom door opens, and a relieved-looking Gus exits.
“I didn’t account for standing around for ten minutes at your door.” He levels me with a narrowed gaze, eyes scanning up and down, looking for evidence of what caused the delay. I flick my eyes to Violet in explanation.
“Your room is two floors down. Why didn’t you just go before you got on the elevator?” Bones asks. Violet has made her way over to him to say hello, and he’s immediately tucked her into his side. Before this season, Bones barely spoke unless spoken to; he was quiet and reserved. He still is with anyone he doesn’t know or like, but something about Violet has brought him out of his shell. He’s exceedingly protective of her, and she’s taken on a big sister role with him.
“Wanted to see if this bathroom was any better than mine. It’s the fanciest room I think Wellsy’s ever sprung for.” Gus shrugs, like evaluating hotel bathrooms is entirely normal behavior.
“And?” Obie prompts.
“It’s not,” Gus replies, walking around and looking curiously through the door to the bedroom. He turns back to the group, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. “But that is. Damn.”
“What time is the reservation? We should probably order the Ubers.” Allison saves us from the rest of Gus’ room inspection, and I shoot her a grateful smile. She’s already pulled her phone out, arranging for transportation to the restaurant. Tex presses a kiss to the top of her head before leading everyone back to the door with practiced efficiency.
I pick up Violet’s clutch from the end table as she walks out the door engrossed in a discussion with Bones. I pass it to her as we fill the elevator. She slips her other hand in mine, leaning sweetly against my arm as the chime announces the lobby.
Our walk through the lobby is interrupted a few times by various people stopping to ask for pictures or autographs. Allison and Violet eventually break off together to walk faster and claim our ride shares, while the rest of the guys and I stop for a kid with his family near the entrance.
Giving one last high five to the young fan, I stand to catch up with everyone else. Violet is at the curb, laughing at something Allison says. Her brown hair is pulled into a high ponytail, the curled ends swaying down past her shoulders as her head tips back. I pause a moment to take in the sight of her: beautiful, carefree, and happy.
Gus slings an arm around my shoulders, leaning in to keep his words between us.
“She’s something else, Crosby. I’m really happy for you.”
“Thanks, man.” I reach my own arm around to squeeze his shoulder. “If I’m lucky, she’ll want to stick around for a long, long time.”