Chapter 4 #2
“I don’t want to be your damn ambassador, okay? It’s not going to work for me.”
“Well, you don’t get to decide that,” Noah said. “As a matter of fact, Sunday afternoon, you, Lindy, and Maximov are going to one of their practices. There’s going to be a piece done on it. You’ll get to see what it’s like to skate and shoot pucks blind.”
“What the fuck?” My stomach clenched. I was grateful I wouldn’t be doing it alone, but was he serious? He could not be serious. He wanted us to what? Make fools of ourselves?
“Relax. They’re not going to take your fucking eyes out, man. You’ll just wear some goggles and let them spin you around the ice for a while. It’s good PR. They need it. We need it.”
What the fuck was he talking about? Since when did we need good PR? We were doing fine. “Fuck you, Noah.”
“Not interested. Anyway, have a good night, and don’t call me to the arena again unless you plan to show up.”
That motherfucker. I nearly threw my phone across the room, but Peter gave a loud snore, and I remembered I wasn’t there alone.
Shit. I had way too much to do besides babysit this old man, but what choice did I have?
I couldn’t ask Nikos to come by, and it was obvious that Jonah’s family wasn’t going to help.
Fuck, wasn’t there some kind of service to help with this sort of thing?
I could make some calls. I’d pay, for Christ’s sake.
I had money in one of my investment accounts doing nothing but collecting interest. I hadn’t done what all the other rookies did when I was drafted and spent my entire signing bonus on some posh apartment with a fucking hot tub and a car I’d never drive.
Well, okay, I spent my money on my car. My Land Rover was my baby. But I did drive it, and I wasn’t like the other dipshits who totaled theirs after a long night at a bar.
So I could do this for Peter if I had to.
He seemed like he was a good guy, and I was struggling to understand the beef his sons had with him. All he did was brag all day long about his boys, so…
BAM BAM!
Fuck. I rushed over to the door and yanked it open, startled to find my brother on the other side of it. I blinked at him. We’d just been on the phone. He was at his shop. What the fuck?
“What are you doing here?”
“Relieving you. I know you have things to do.”
“It’s not that important, and Noah already—”
“Go,” Nikos interrupted, shoving me toward the hallway. “It was going to be dead tonight anyway. Trust me, I’m saving money closing early.”
He was lying, but it didn’t matter. I’d never let him lose his shop. Leaning over, I kissed his cheek. As much as I wanted to fight him, I was still worked up over Jonah’s family, and I wanted to give the fucker another piece of my damn mind. Not that I would.
No. I would take this opportunity to go home and get a little extra sleep. Maybe I’d feel better about it tomorrow after some shut-eye.
“Thank you.”
He waved me off with a sigh. “When you see Jonah, be nicer. I think he’s going through it.”
My heart did a funny little twist in my chest, and I had no idea what for, so I quickly shoved it aside.
Flipping my brother off, I shut the door behind me, then hoofed it to my car.
I wasn’t sure why the mention of Jonah’s name got me all hot and bothered.
Yes, he was good-looking. And yes, I tended to gravitate toward a smart mouth.
But I’d never dated a guy like him, and I wasn’t about to attempt something that ridiculous now.
I should have gone home.
Fuck, why didn’t I just go home. My building had a very nice gym on the first floor with a café and a smoothie shop. I could have gotten my run in and then taken an acai bowl upstairs and rotted in front of ESPN-H, watching the sportscasters talk shit about our first line.
Instead, I was leaning over the railing above the nosebleeds, listening to the crowd shout for their team. The Boston Legend were down by six, and with only ten minutes left in the game, unless they had a miracle up their sleeve, Jersey was going to take this.
I found myself leaning over, eyes squinting down at the man in the mask sitting in front of the net. The puck they used was bigger and easier to track from this far up. I could also hear it rattling across the ice as the players in their bright colors went after it.
My breath caught in my chest as number seventeen had a shot on goal.
The crowd erupted when Jonah made another save. Fuck. I couldn’t help but wonder how he did it. Yeah, the puck was larger, but not by that much. Not enough that I could have done it without sight.
Not that I’d tell anyone that.
I wasn’t good at being between the pipes though, so he had an advantage on me there, but the thought of skating blind did make me feel…I wasn’t going to say scared. Very little scared me. But it was unsettling.
I had to admit, while no one was listening, I didn’t understand how they did it. How they could skate around and follow the puck by what? Sound alone?
The arena let out a collective groan, and booing erupted as Jersey made another goal. I glanced at the scoreboard and felt my heart sink. The Legends were now down by seven, and there were six minutes left in the game.
Boston wasn’t taking this back.
Turning away from the stands, I headed for the tunnels, making my way past the double takes I always got when I was at the arena when we weren’t playing.
I yanked my beanie down lower over my forehead, then grabbed my wallet and smacked the side where my badge was against the black box by the doors.
It clicked open, and I slipped inside before anyone got the balls to stop me.
I didn’t mind that much. Almost anywhere I traveled, no one recognized me.
It was only here and maybe a twenty-mile radius around the arena that people seemed aware of who I was.
But I also wasn’t a star player. I was…fine.
Better than mediocre. I had a couple of awards and three cups under my belt.
It wasn’t nothing.
But it wasn’t something either.
I wasn’t going down as a legend in the game.
I would retire comfortably and take care of my family, and it was hard to ask more than that.
Fifteen years ago, I couldn’t have imagined a life like this.
Fifteen years ago, I was living in Brighton with my brother and mum, young and pissed off and convinced that the universe was out punish without ever rewarding.
And then I was drafted.
And then I got my first NHL paycheck.
Things had been different since.
Turning the corner, I spied the line of rooms that belonged to the coaches. NHL on the right, PPHL on the left. I wasn’t in Boston when the PPHL team was given joint custody of the arena, but it had been the same in Tampa.
Things started happening. Changes. And I fucking hated change.
Taking a breath, I walked up to the office with a tag on the door that read Tucker Banks with a line of braille under it.
I didn’t think he was going to be in there.
The final buzzer hadn’t gone off yet, and when it did, he’d be in the locker room with everyone else, giving the usual bullshit pep talk about how they’d do better next time and whatever the fuck he could come up with to make the players not want to drown themselves in an ice bath.
Though I didn’t know if the Legends took losses as hard as we did. I didn’t really know jack shit about them at all.
Lifting my fist, I knocked and was surprised when the door opened. I was met by a wide-eyed, terrified-looking man with dark hair, pale skin, and freckles.
“Can I help you?” he asked, then flushed. “Oh my god, Mr. Zeki, I—”
I lifted a brow. “Do I know you?”
“No, I—I’m an intern? I’m…shit. Sorry. Fuck. Sorry for swearing!” He cleared his throat. “Can I help you with something?”
“I need to speak with…” I pulled back to look at the nameplate again. “Banks.”
Noah wasn’t going to relent on this ambassador thing, so I wanted some idea of what to expect when I showed up with my boys. If this was supposed to be a lesson in humiliation, I wasn’t fucking having it.
Now, in reality, I was distracting myself so I didn’t go looking for Jonah, but this kid didn’t need to know that.
“Sure. Yes…I think?” the guy said. He bit his lip, then stepped aside. “I think it’s fine if you wait in here. It’s not like you’re going to steal their plays.”
“What would it matter if I did? We don’t play each other.”
He flushed brightly. “Right, I—right. Of course. Okay.”
Brushing past him, I walked in and stared around. It looked a lot like Noah’s office, apart from a bigger computer monitor, but everything else was like his. There was a whiteboard and markers, two chairs, a big desk, photos along the shelves.
It didn’t seem like the coach was blind, though I didn’t know if that was also part of their rules. I wasn’t sure how any of it worked. It never really mattered to me, and I still couldn’t understand why Noah was making it my problem. I had enough on my plate.
Why this?
Why now?
Dragging one of the guest chairs into the corner by the bookshelf, I hunkered down and pulled my phone out, scrolling through my Instagram feed on silent as the minutes ticked by. And then ticked by.
Then they began to crawl by like drops of frozen honey.
Dear god, this was going to take all night. My eyes started to get heavy, so I tilted my head and let it rest against the wall as I closed them. What would it hurt if I rested for a few minutes? Tucker’s after-game duties would take him a while longer.
And frankly, I needed the sleep.
My bones ached with deep bruises—ones I would never regret, but also ones I would never forget. I took a deep breath…and started to drift.