Chapter 23
PATTERSON
Practice runs longer than usual because Coach is in one of his moods where nothing is good enough, and everyone pays for it. By the time he blows the whistle, my legs are burning. My shoulder still aches from a hit I took against Hunter.
I’m already thinking about tonight, about having Kendall in my kitchen, about the salmon and risotto I bought ingredients for yesterday.
I’m halfway to the locker room when Coach’s voice cuts through the noise.
“Cross. My office. Five minutes.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, acting indifferent.
Callan shoots me a look as I peel off from the group. I shrug like I don’t know what this is about, but my mind is racing through every stolen glance Kendall and I have shared lately.
Maybe Coach noticed; maybe I’m feeling guilty as fuck. My mind races as I stalk toward his office, not daring to be late when he’s already at his wits’ end.
What if my career with the Angels is about to end because I couldn’t keep my hands off his daughter?
The door is open, and he’s sitting behind his desk, reading something on his laptop. I study his face as I knock on the frame, searching for a hint of what he wants. His expression gives me nothing.
“Sit.”
I drop into the chair across from him, keeping my own expression neutral even though my heart is slamming against my ribs.
His office hasn’t changed since I’ve been on this team.
The same motivational bullshit is plastered on the walls, the same championship photos, and a framed picture of Kendall skating on his desk. I force myself not to look at it.
“Wanted to talk to you about something,” he says, leaning back in his chair.
I can’t tell if he’s drawing this out on purpose or if I’m actually nervous. Coach has always been impossible to read. It’s what makes him a great coach.
“I’ve noticed things have been better lately.”
“With?”
“You and Kendall.”
This is it. He knows.
“I’m trying to be civil,” I say steadily, which is a miracle.
He studies me. “She mentioned you’ve been professional.”
I wait for the rest. For him to say, And then someone told me they saw you two in the hallway, or Care to explain why you were in a storage closet together? But he keeps looking at me.
“Maybe I’ve grown up,” I manage.
He laughs, and it’s a real one. Some of the tension leaves his shoulders, and I realize with a jolt that he’s not angry or suspicious. He’s genuinely pleased.
The relief nearly knocks me out of the chair.
“Maybe you have. I appreciate it. This project means a lot to her. And I know you two have had your issues. But I’m hoping now that she and your brother are back together, it can be water under the bridge.”
“Ancient history,” I confirm.
“Good. That’s good.” He nods. “I’ve always warned her against hockey players. But can’t say Kendall has ever listened to anything I said. Maybe you can teach her a thing or two.”
I swallow hard. “Maybe.”
He waves his hand, moving on. “Anyway, that’s not why I called you in here. Dennis wants to have dinner tonight. Discuss your contract situation.”
The shift is so abrupt that it takes me a second to catch up. “Tonight?”
“Seven o’clock. That steak house on Sixty-Fourth Street he likes. I’ll be there too.” Coach pins me with a look. “This is important, Patterson. The owner doesn’t take meetings like this unless he’s serious about making a deal.”
“I had plans tonight.”
“Cancel them.”
It’s not a request.
I think about the salmon defrosting in my fridge, about how Kendall smiled when I told her I’d cook for her tonight. This was supposed to be our first real date. Not fucking, not fighting, just being together and talking like normal people.
“Patterson.” Coach’s voice comes out like a bark. “This is your career. Your future. Whatever plans you have can wait until next week. This is important.”
He’s right. That’s the worst part. I can’t argue without explaining why tonight matters so much.
“Yeah. Okay. I’ll be there.”
“Good.” He stands, signaling the conversation is over. “Seven o’clock. Don’t be late.”
I leave his office with my jaw clenched so tight that my teeth ache. The relief of not being caught has already faded, replaced by the weight of what I have to do next.
I check my phone as I walk. An ESPN notification catches my eye—Damien Blackwell confident, heading into the final stretch: “I’m coming for that points record, Patty.
” I swipe it away because I don’t have the bandwidth for his bullshit right now.
Though I’d love to pound my frustrations out on his fucking face.
I find Kendall in the hallway and grab her elbow, pulling her into the equipment storage closet with me. I’m still in my practice clothes, sweat already dried.
“Patterson, what the hell—”
It’s dark except for the sliver of light under the door. The space is tight, crammed with spare sticks and pads. She smells like vanilla, and it’s become my favorite thing.
“Are you actually insane?” She shoves at my chest, but there’s nowhere for me to go. “Someone could have seen that.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should care. My dad is literally down the hall—”
“I have to cancel tonight.”
She goes still, and her fingers curl into my shirt, gripping tighter instead of pushing me away. “What?”
“The owner wants to meet about my contract. Your dad told me I have to be at dinner at seven.” I can barely see her face in the dark, but I feel her body stiffen against mine. “I don’t have a choice.”
The silence that follows is worse than yelling. I can handle her anger; I don’t know what to do with her disappointment.
“Okay.”
“That’s it? Just okay?”
“What do you want me to say, Patterson?” She sounds tired. “It’s your career. It’s important. Go have dinner with my father and talk about your future.”
“I wanted tonight. You know I did. I’ll make it up to you.”
“When? Sometime next week? Or the week after?”
I run through my schedule in my head. Game tomorrow. Travel Thursday for the road series. Back in New York on Tuesday, with another game on Wednesday, and then I start all over. All I can do is sigh. “You know how this goes.”
Her laugh is hollow. “I know. And I’m already exhausted.”
“Ken Doll …” I find her face in the dark, my hands cupping her jaw. Her skin is warm under my palms. “Are you sure you can do this with me?”
I feel her breath against my lips, feel her fingers still twisted in my shirt.
“I don’t know,” she admits. “But I’m not ready to stop trying.”
“Neither am I.”
Her hands slide up to my shoulders, and she pulls me closer. When she kisses me, it’s almost sad. I sink into it, my hands moving to her hips, pulling her against me in the dark.
“I’d better get the princess treatment,” she says when she pulls back.
“Queen treatment, babe.”
“Promise?”
“Pinkie swear,” I say, lifting my finger, and she takes mine in hers.
“I hate this,” she whispers.
“Me too.”
She reaches past me and cracks the door open, checking the hallway. Light spills across her face, and I see the frustration she’s trying to hide.
“Go first,” I tell her. “I’ll wait five minutes.”
I steal one more kiss before she slips out. When I’m alone, I close my eyes, leaning my head against the wall. What the fuck are we doing?
Five minutes later, I’m walking toward the exit, trying to push my doubts away.
The dinner is fine. Dennis talks numbers and years and no-trade clauses while I nod and say the right things. Coach watches me with approval, probably thinking my priorities are straight. The steak is cooked perfectly, but I barely taste it.
At one point, Dennis asks about my goals for the next five years. I give him the standard answer—championships, legacy, being part of something bigger than myself. The whole time, I’m thinking about Kendall, alone in her apartment, probably drinking wine and hating me.
Halfway through dessert, Dennis excuses himself. When I’m alone with Coach, he claps me on the shoulder.
“You’ve come a long way, Patterson. I remember when you first joined this team. Cocky as hell, chip the size of Manhattan on your shoulder.” He shakes his head with something like fondness. “You’ve grown into one of the best players I’ve ever coached. I’m proud of you.”
The words feel good because he never gives compliments.
“Thanks, Coach.”
“I mean it. If you keep your head on straight, stay focused through the playoffs, then I have a feeling you’ll spend the rest of your career with this franchise.” He raises his glass.
“That’s all I want,” I tell him truthfully.
Coach raises his glass of bourbon. “To the Angels.”
“To the Angels,” I echo, and the booze tastes like guilt.
By the time I get home, it’s almost eleven. I stand in my kitchen, looking at the salmon still in my fridge, the vegetables I planned to roast, and the bottle of wine I’d picked out because it was her favorite. A whole evening planned and wasted.
I toss the salmon in the freezer, then text Kendall.
Patterson
I stare at the screen after I hit Send. We don’t do hearts. We send food emojis. But tonight, it feels like canceling on her cost me something.
The three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.
Kendall
I exhale a laugh.
I set my phone on the nightstand and lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. I don’t know when I’ll be with her again. My schedule is full of games and travel, but I’ll make it work. Somehow.
“Good night, Kendall,” I whisper to the dark, feeling like I’m already fucking this up.
If she slips through my fingers this time, it’s no one’s fault but my own.