10. Chapter Ten
Chapter Ten
Kevin
It’s been three days since I slept with Sarah again — sober this time, on her flimsy Murphy bed that was never designed for someone who is six-foot-two — and I can't stop thinking about the fact that friends with benefits might actually kill me.
Not in a bad way.
In the way where I get to touch her. Kiss her. Make a mental catalogue of what works best to make her come.
It’s a world where now I get her texts throughout the day, and if I don’t overthink it, it feels like we're actually together instead of pretending this is casual.
The problem is the pretending part.
I'm in love with her and she thinks this is just good sex with a friend who is like every other guy who has a job and a gym membership and a dog.
So, we've got rules. Don't tell people. Keep it low-key. Act normal in public.
Except I don't feel normal.
And she’s absolutely the reason.
It's five-thirty on game day. I'm in the training room getting my shoulder taped by Dominic while Quinn lectures me about recovery protocol.
"You're favoring it in practice," she says. Dominic quietly straps on what feels like an entire roll of tape. "Which means you're compensating. Which means you're going to injure something else."
"I'm fine."
Dominic hands me to Quinn Quinn once Aiden walks in the room, leaving her to finish the job. "You're not fine. But you're stubborn as hell, so I'm taping you like you're made of glass and hoping for the best."
My phone buzzes on the table.
Ranger's Mom
Diane just told me the photo of Ranger in his jersey got 10k likes. TEN THOUSAND.
I grin at my phone like an idiot.
He's very photogenic.
Ranger's Mom
Your dog is more popular than you.
Probably true.
Ranger's Mom
I'll come down and watch the 3rd. But you'll have to find me.
I could find you anywhere, baby.
My thumb hits send and my heart immediately stops.
Shit. Shit shit shit.
Baby? Did I just call her baby over text? That's not casual. That's not in the friends with benefits manual. That's relationship territory and we are absolutely not—
Three dots appear.
My heart's hammering against my ribs. I can feel my pulse in my throat. Quinn's still taping but I'm not paying attention because those three dots are either going to end this or—
Ranger's Mom
It's on. Where's Waldo, Hockey Edition. I want to see if you really can find me.
I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
Bet.
Three dots appear. Disappear.
Ranger's Mom
And maybe I could find you after?
Every nerve ending in my body lights up. After means she's coming over. After means I get to touch her without worrying about who's watching over a plate of wings. After means I get her in my bed again and I can take my time.
You've got a key. I’ll make it worth going out of your way.
"You're smiling at your phone," Quinn observes. "Funny meme?"
"What? No. I'm allowed to smile."
"They don't call you Sunshine for nothing.
It's just that usually at this point before a game you're all in your head, running through defensive zone coverage and locking in before the show part of the evening starts.
" She finishes the tape job with one final strip that feels unnecessarily aggressive. "This is different."
"Different how?"
"Different like you're texting someone you're sleeping with who makes you stupid happy."
I nearly fall off the table. "What?"
"Relax. I'm not asking for details." She starts cleaning up supplies, but there's a knowing look on her face. "You two gonna figure your shit out?"
"There's no shit to figure out."
"Kevin."
"We're friends."
"Sure you are." She examines her tape job one more time. "Friends who look at each other like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you'd skate through fire if she asked you to." Quinn steps back. "But hey, what do I know? I'm just the person who watches you check your phone every five minutes and smile at whatever she sends."
My face is definitely hot. "It's complicated."
"It always is." Something sad flickers across her expression. History. "But for what it's worth? Whatever you two are doing? Don't wait to say what needs to be said. That's how you lose people."
There's weight in those words. I know exactly who she's talking about.
Liam.
"Noted," I say honestly
Before I can respond, Paige appears in the doorway. I’ve seen this look before, but for the life of me, I can’t remember if it’s a good look or a bad one.
"Kevin? Can I steal you for a second?" Nope, that question isn’t giving me any hints as to what Paige needs.
Quinn waves me off. "Go. Try not to compensate tonight. And for the love of everything holy, don't drop your shoulder when you take a hit."
I follow Paige into the hallway.
"So," she starts. A smile lights up her face and finally gives it away. This is good news. "Ranger got the brand deal."
I blink. "Seriously?"
"Super PawMart. National adoption campaign. Social media partnership." She's practically bouncing. "Kevin, this is real money. Six figures."
My brain short-circuits. "That's—"
"A lot. I know." She's full-on grinning now.
"The calendar photos were that good. Ranger's story resonates. They want him attending games in their merch. There would be an affiliate angle that would come back to the Stampede Foundation, which we could use for an annual gift back to Lone Star Paws. I don’t know how much it would be, but every little bit counts, right? "
Every little bit would absolutely count.
"Does Sarah know?"
"Not yet. I wanted to tell you first." Paige pauses, studying my face. "Thought you might want to tell her yourself. But I can call her tomorrow if—"
"No. I'll tell her." My mind's already racing. "Just need to figure out when."
Voices from the locker room cut through. Loud, laughing voices that mean someone's up to something.
Paige just smiles. "You'll know what to do."
I step into the locker room and it's complete chaos.
Josh is at the whiteboard — the one we use for plays and strategy — drawing up what appears to be a legal contract. Graham's filming on his phone. Tyler and Liam are losing it.
"What is happening?" I ask.
Josh doesn't even turn around. "Making Ranger's contract official."
He's writing in handwriting that would make a kindergarten teacher cry:
RANGER ST. CLAIR – OFFICIAL brAND AMBASSADOR
Terms:
Minimum 10 belly rubs per day
Unlimited treats (no vegetables)
His own parking spot (closer than Momo's)
Agent commission: 15% paid in tennis balls
All contracts must be marked with paw print
Automatic renewal if he learns to skate
"Parking spot closer than mine?" Tyler protests. "Okay, that’s fair. Ranger's earned it."
Graham's got his phone up, recording everything. "This is going straight to Ranger's Instagram. His followers need to know he's a VID. Very Important Dog."
"Does the young Mr. St. Clair have an agent?" Aiden asks, walking in, dropping captain energy into this ridiculous conversation like a teenager with Axe body spray. "Because he needs representation."
"I'll represent him," Liam offers. "My fee is reasonable."
"Your fee is a bottle of Macallan 18," Josh says.
"Exactly. Reasonable."
I'm trying not to laugh. Trying to be professional about my celebrity dog. Failing at both.
"Alright, alright," I manage. "Very funny. But you can't post anything until I tell Sarah, Graham. And can we focus on the actual game we're about to play?"
"Oh, we're focused," Aiden says, but there's something in his voice. He exchanges a look with Liam that I recognize. They're plotting. "We've got pregame, Sunshine. But Sarah needs to know. In fact, Crash and I think you should go tell her about this deal. In person."
"It's game day—"
"It's ninety minutes out," Liam interrupts. "Plenty of time."
"I'll just text her—"
"No." Aiden's just thrown down the captain bark. Apparently, this one’s non-negotiable. “You're telling her in person. Because this is big news and she deserves to hear it from you, not a text message."
"We'll come with you," Liam adds. "Make sure you don't chicken out."
"I'm not going to chicken out—"
"Then let's go." Aiden's already moving toward the door.
I look at the guys. They're all watching me with varying degrees of amusement and encouragement.
Paige appears in the doorway. "I have to do one thing, but I’m right behind you. Do not — I repeat, do not — try anything. I can't trust you boys to do anything without supervision."
This is how I end up walking through the concourse in my base layers, flanked by Liam and Aiden who are also not fully dressed for a game, heading toward Sarah's booth like we're on some kind of mission.
"This is a terrible idea," I mutter.
"This is a great idea," Aiden counters. "You get to tell her face-to-face. We get to watch you try not to confess your feelings. Everyone wins."
"I'm not confessing anything—"
"Sure you're not," Liam says. "That's why you light up like the Jumbotron every time she texts."
We're drawing looks from early fans. Some vendors setting up. And there, at the Lone Star Paws booth, is Sarah.
She's arranging photos of adoptable dogs. Diane's organizing paperwork. Sarah's wearing jeans and her favorite LSP half-zip. Her hair’s in a ponytail. She starts to bite her lip in concentration.
And I forget how to breathe.
She's not dressed up. No makeup I can see from here. Probably has fur and drool and kibble dust clinging to her clothes.
She's perfect.
Not magazine-cover perfect. Better. Real. In her element. Doing what she loves. Giving a shit about things that make a difference in this world. Looking at those dog photos like each one is a personal mission. Because I know each one is personal to her.
I’m slammed by that same feeling I get when I'm defending a one-goal lead with thirty seconds left — heart racing, everything on the line, knowing one wrong move is the difference between getting two points or not.
Except this isn't a game.
This is Sarah. And I'm so fucking gone for her it's not even funny.
She looks up. Sees me.
Her eyes go wide. "Kevin? What are you—" Then she notices Liam and Aiden behind me, all of us clearly not game-ready. "What's going on?"
"Ranger got the brand deal." Not smooth. Not planned. Just… Out there. "Paige got it done."
I watch her process it. Watch understanding dawn. Watch her face light up with genuine joy that I can feel in the air around us.
"Kevin, that's incredible!" Then reality hits. "Wait. You came all the way up here to tell me? Before the game?"
Her smile is everything. I'm going to think about it a thousand times tonight. "I wanted you to hear it from me. Super PawMart wants him at games and they’ll create an affiliate link for things he wears or uses."
There's a moment. Just a moment where we're looking at each other and everything else — the booth, Diane, Liam and Aiden watching us like we're their favorite reality show — fades away.
Then Diane clears her throat. "Well, that's wonderful news. Ranger's going to need a handler once he becomes a celebrity."
"That'll probably be Sarah," Aiden says helpfully. "Brand manager, dog handler, chaos wrangler — whatever the title is."
"Which means more time at games," Liam adds with a grin that promises trouble.
I shoot them both looks that guarantee retribution later.
"Whoa, is that Crash?" A fan spots us. Phones come out. "And St. Clair and McCrae!"
More fans notice. Security guard heads our way.
"Gentlemen, you're not supposed to be up here without—"
"We know," Liam says. "We're leaving."
A media person setting up equipment starts moving toward us.
Paige makes good on her promise to follow us, appearing like an avenging angel, physically herding us back toward the tunnel. "Please don’t make me explain to Coach why three of his players are doing a meet-and-greet ninety minutes before game time."
"You can ask about Ranger's brand deal in postgame media. I’ll make sure St. Clair is available," Paige tells the media guy while pushing Aiden toward the stairs.
I look back at Sarah. She's watching with a mixed expression that could signal several things: amused, touched, maybe still a little in shock.
She mouths: "Good luck tonight."
I wink back. She's going to be in the stands in the third. This game's already won.
We're back in the tunnel when Paige starts laughing. "You're lucky Coach is busy with pregame prep. Get to the locker room. Now."
But he knows. He always does. He pulls me aside five minutes later.
"Heard you took an unauthorized trip to the concourse."
Shit. "Sir—"
"Paige explained. Brand deal for your dog." His Québécois accent is thicker than usual, and the way he’s staring is a language all its own that acknowledges he sees way more than I want him to. "The rescue director. Sarah. She's good people."
"Yes sir."
"Try not to make a habit of breaking protocol, eh? But I understand. Sometimes you must tell someone something before the opportunity passes."
I'm not sure if we're still talking about the dog deal.
"Yes sir."
He walks away and I let out a breath.
The locker room is merciless.
"Sunshine broke the rules for a girl," Tyler announces to everyone.
"And his dog," Graham adds. Unhelpfully.
"The dog's just an excuse," Josh grunts from his spot by the whiteboard contract.
I'm finishing up with getting dressed when Aiden sits next to me.
"You defended her pretty hard back there," he says quietly. "When we were giving you shit. And you moved pretty damn fast up to the concourse."
"What was I supposed to do?"
"Most guys would just laugh it off. You got protective." He's watching me carefully. "You're in deep, Sunshine."
"We're just—"
"I know what you're 'just' doing. And I know you want more." His voice drops lower. "The question is, what are you going to do about it?"
"Nothing. She wants this casual. I'm not going to push."
"So, the defenseman is defending her choice even though it's not what you want."
"Yeah. That's what you do when you—" I catch myself.
"When you love someone," Aiden finishes. "I know. I've been there."
Something old and painful surfaces in his voice.
"Caela?" I venture a guess.
"That's in the past now,” he says, waving me off, but he can’t hide the way his jaw tightens. "Just don't make my mistakes. Don't wait so long that what you don’t want becomes what you get because you're too scared to risk what needs to be said."
Before I can respond, Coach is calling for attention. Game time.
I focus up. Push thoughts of Sarah aside. Do my job.