Chapter 19 #2
“Yeah…” I glanced at the table. Our food could wait another minute.
“They’re giving me a shot and if things go well—” I shrugged.
“—then I could move up earlier than planned and get my full NAPH contract. Well, they pay me at the NAPH level for each NAPH game I play.” I had a two-way contract, so the longer Berg was out, the more money I’d make this year.
“Oh, wow.” He squeezed my hands. “I’m so happy for you, babe. You’ve worked so hard. You deserve this.” Throwing his arms around my neck, he planted a hard kiss on my mouth. “Things are going so well for us.”
“They are.” I nuzzled into his neck and broke away from him, my stomach grumbling. “Let’s eat. I’m starved, and this meal looks delicious.”
“Yes, of course.” With a quick chuckle, he dropped into a chair.
I sat across from him and spooned creamy noodles and chicken onto my plate. “Stella says you made an appointment with a therapist?” It would be great for him to resolve some of his shit before his mom got here.
“I did. She seems like a pleasant woman and has worked in similar situations.” After plating his pasta, he poured wine into our glasses.
“That’s awesome.” With this new opportunity, I’d be making a lot more money. I glanced at Ezra, twirling his fork in his pasta. I could afford a better place. One where we could live together. “Uh, what do you think about maybe um…” As my pulse quickened, I pursed my lips. What if he said no?
“Maybe what?” He ate a forkful of food.
Leaning in and setting my hands on the edge of the table, I asked, “What about getting a place together? I mean, not right away, but if they keep me in the NAPH? We could look for places and maybe find something close to your studio and—”
“Yes.” He threw a glance toward the window. “I could still stop in and visit Stella.” His attention shifted to me. “I don’t mind leaving this apartment. It…” His face went slack. “There are terrible memories here.”
I grabbed his forearm, resting next to his plate. “We can make fresh memories, fantastic memories. I’ll let you decorate however you want.” With my schedule, he’d be there the most, and I’d do anything to make him happy and comfortable.
He stared at me. “You’d do that for me?”
“I would.” Shit, I needed to tell him about my discussion with Mason.
“I uh, I spoke to my brother today too. He’s going to help me come out to my parents.
Maybe after our first game together.” I scratched my head.
When would we have time? After the game?
Dad would surely want a phone call. “I should come out to the team, too.”
“Really?” He set his fork on his plate. “Are you sure you want to handle this all at once? There’s no rush.”
“No, but I’m sure the organization will be on my side.” My gut tied in a knot. Had I been putting this off and enjoying my little bubble with Ezra? Maybe. “I need to do this and get it over with.”
“What does Mason think about it?” He sipped his wine.
“He’ll help me.” I nodded. I could always count on my brother. And his friends. I picked up my fork and dug into my pasta. “It’ll be fine.” Shit, should I talk to my agent? It was overwhelming right now. First, I’d come out to Mom and Dad.
“If you need anything, I’ll be here.” He creased his brows.
“I know, babe. I feel like support is something I have plenty of.” I offered him a smile. He already had so much on his plate with his own situation. “You work on you, and I’ll be fine. We’ll get through it together.”
“Love you.” His warm gaze met mine.
“Love you too.” With a swift grin, I drank my wine.
The next morning, I was up early and at the rink for my first skate with the Cardinals at their training facility.
It was a little nicer than ours, which we shared with the college team.
With my duffel slung over a shoulder, I entered the locker room, all painted in matte black with gold and turquoise accents and rich woods.
I stopped, taking it all in. I was the first one here.
“Bro, I knew you’d be here early.” Mason snickered behind me and planted his hand on my shoulder.
I twisted around. “How much longer before everyone shows up?” Okay, maybe I was too early.
Jett Jarvis walked up behind Mason with coffee containers in his hand. “Not for another twenty minutes.” He handed me a coffee. “Here, you might need this.”
“Thanks.” I sipped the coffee, bitter, but sweet with a caramel flavor. “Where should I put my shit?” Thank God Mason was here to show me around.
“Here’s the guest stall.” Mason pointed at an empty stall on the end. “They won’t pull Berg’s name off until they’re sure of his replacement. Superstition, you know?” Mason smirked and drank his own coffee.
“Yeah, I get it.” It would feel a little disrespectful, too. I threw my bag into the empty stall. “Show me around?”
“Hell yeah.” Mason grabbed Jett’s hand, and they showed me the showers, the coach’s offices and finally the rink. “You’ll be practicing with Laine today, but Archer’s going to hit you up for lunch to talk about the game tomorrow.”
I scanned the facility, the high ceiling and perfect ice. My stomach fluttered with nerves. Hockey legends were forged here. Would I get to stay? I had to give it my all.
“Cat got your tongue?” Mason huffed a laugh. “Bro, it’s a rink, just like any other rink. Don’t let this shit go to your head.”
“Yeah, I won’t.” Fuck I’d try. I took a calming breath. It’s a rink like any other. And the guys I’d play with had all been through this.
“Hey, man. Here early?” Archer’s voice cut through the silence.
I swiveled, my gaze landing on him, his shoulders pulling his sweatshirt tight. He was powerfully built and quickly becoming a D-line star. Someday, maybe I’d get on his line.
“Yeah, Lucas is a tad excited, aren’t you?” Mason shoved me toward Archer. “Go, talk to Archer here. He’s going to mentor you.”
“Okay.” Swallowing hard, I stepped toward him. It was one thing hanging out at the gay bar, but this was on another level. What would his reaction be once I started skating?
“Come on.” Archer waved me over. “I don’t want those forwards filling your head with bullshit.” With a smirk at Mason and Jett, he slid an arm around my shoulders and led me back to the locker room.
After some full-team warmup drills, Coach Dupont paired me with Laine and we worked on blue line shuffles. I could do this shit in my sleep, but I was used to Crosby’s style. Laine was harsher, faster and stopped on a fucking dime.
We stood by the boards, pucks thrown in a line across the ice. Laine peeked at me from under his helmet’s shield, his blue gaze steely. “Keep your eyes on me, kid, for the first few rounds, and try to keep up.” He lifted the edge of his lips.
“Sure.” Normally, I’d have a chirp for a comment like that, but I wasn’t fucking around today. Hunching over, I set my stick on the ice.
He took off like a shot, blades cutting the ice, shuffling the puck with precision, and passed to me.
The puck hit my stick, and I skated around the biscuits on the ice, quickening my normal pace. With my teeth grinding on my mouthpiece, I snapped the puck back to him.
On and on we went to the end. At the far side of the rink, I stopped and panted. Fuck, this was blue line shuffles on steroids. But I’d kept up.
“Good job.” Archer skated toward us, holding his stick under his arm and clapping. “You two will be in sync in no time.”
With a playful grin at me, Laine said, “I’m impressed, kid. But then, you’re a Hopkins. You’ve got some big skates to fill.”
I glanced at my brother, taking shots at Ace. The two had been chirping at each other nonstop. “Yeah, I sure do. And I’ll fill those fucking skates.” I had a boyfriend to buy a house for.
After practice and cool down routines, Coach Dupont had given me a pep talk in his office.
The team had already announced me as replacing Berg for tomorrow’s game.
Coach was Archer’s dad, so he already knew Archer was taking me to lunch.
The two of them formed a powerful duo. God, this team was incredible.
I met Archer at Ra Sushi, the place I’d taken Ezra to on our first date. I walked into the dark restaurant, the red lamps casting a warm glow over the dark wooden tables.
Archer sat at the sushi bar against the wall and waved at me.
With a grin spreading over my mouth and my chest warming, I strode to him and fell into the chair next to him. “Hey, man. I had a little chat with your dad. He’s cool.” I sipped water from a glass already on the table.
“Yeah, he’s the one who gave me a chance out of college.” He picked up his menu. “Anyway, let’s order and then talk strategy about tomorrow.”
“Sure.” I glanced at his drink. Was it an iced tea? Scanning over my menu, I’d keep it on the healthy side with sashimi and a few rolls that weren’t fried and full of sauce.
The server stopped by and we ordered.
Archer planted his elbow on the table, turning to face me. “So, the Falcons? Their center is a son of a bitch. He’ll try cheap shots on us. If a puck gets past you, don’t worry too much. Ace is amazing.”
“Yeah, okay.” I nodded. I’d defend Ace as best I could. It was my damn job out there.
Archer’s phone lit on the light granite bar top. “Shit, it’s my dad. I have to take this.” He held his phone to his ear. “Hey, Dad. Everything okay?”
Shit, where the hell was my phone? I patted the pockets of my joggers and sweatshirt. It was probably still in the damn car.
“Yeah, I’m with him.” Archer’s wide gaze swung to me. “No fucking way.”
“What?” Why was he looking at me like that? I glanced at the server, bringing my iced tea.
“I’ll hand him the phone. You can talk to him.” Archer held his phone to me. “It’s Coach Dupont. He’s going to brief you on some PR shit that just broke.”
“No way.” Jesus Christ. I should have known that my fucking Insta stalker, Brittany, might start some shit when she saw I was playing with the Cardinals tomorrow. I set the phone to my ear. “Hey, Coach. I’m sorry if—”
“Who is Tate Graff?”