Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
Connor
The look on my father’s face when he hangs up the phone with the Blizzards coach and general manager is pure anger. It’s frightening, but I’m no longer a kid, nor, as of this moment, am I under his control anymore. He’s lost, and he knows it.
“I’m sorry,” I say to him because I am. “I wish it didn’t need to happen this way.” Which is also the truth. I would have liked for us to be able to part amicably. I would have liked him to never have put me in a position where I would have to do this.
His nostrils flare and he points at his office door. “Get out of my office, you ungrateful little shit.”
I clench my teeth and nod my head at him, then rise from my seat and walk through his office door.
Michelle is right on my heels. She follows me as I make my way to the locker room so I can collect my things.
When we reach the closed entry door, she puts her hand on my shoulder. “Are you still doing okay?”
I swallow, then let out a long breath as I look at the Broad Wings logo painted in bright glossy colors on the door.
I’ve stared at this logo my entire life.
I wore it as a newborn, and through every stage and milestone since then.
A born Broad Wing flying away to become a Blizzard. “I’m good. I just need a minute.”
She pats me on the shoulder. “I’ll give you some privacy,” she says, then walks away, tapping on her phone.
My work here might be done today, but hers is only getting started.
I know for a fact that my dad has called Coach Chris in for a meeting that she’ll sit in on with his contract in hand like she did for me, negotiating his dismissal from the Broad Wings organization.
After that, she needs to finalize the details of the Kennedy Rule with the league.
Taking another deep breath, I pull the locker room door open.
The team’s equipment manager has already filled my bag up with my gear but there are a few personal items in my stall I’d like to grab as well.
Like my name placard, which I’m sure my father would throw away.
Then there’s the stack of pucks I’ve collected with my now ex-teammates’ signatures on them over the years.
And a team hoodie to wear while loosening up before dressing in all my gear for a game.
I won’t need it anymore, obviously. I’ll get a new one with the rest of my Blizzards uniforms. But just because things ended poorly for me here with my father, that doesn’t mean I don’t want to take this with me as a souvenir to remember my days as a Broad Wing.
I’m shoving everything into my bag, and making sure my skates are secure, when my phone rings. I pull it out of my pocket. It’s Gavin. A smile pulls at my lips and my eyes begin to burn. “Hi.”
“Hey,” he says, his voice gentle. “Are you alright?”
I swallow around the lump in my throat. It’s been a long day, and it’s barely two. But it’s so good to hear his voice, even though it was only a few hours ago that he dropped me off at the airport. “I’m good. I miss you.”
“I miss you too. But I’ll see you tonight. Look for my Jeep right outside the airport waiting for you.”
“Okay,” I choke out and sit heavily onto the bench. With the back of my hand I wipe at the underside of my eyes, relieved I’m alone, as I don’t need anybody to see me like this.
“Connor.” I can hear the worry in his voice when he says my name. “It’s gonna be alright.”
“I know,” I say. “It’s just… a lot.”
“I wish there was a way I could be there with you.”
“You are,” I say and tug on the strings of his Team USA warmup hoodie I put on this morning before I left his place. When I put the hood over my head I’m bathed in his scent.
“I take it you’re still wearing my hoodie.” I can hear the smile in his voice.
I smile and laugh lightly. “I am.”
“I bet your old man loved that.”
“To be honest,” I sigh, “I think he was too disgusted by me to even notice.” Not that that was the point of me wearing the hoodie.
I didn’t put it on to piss off my father.
I wore it because I needed Gavin’s familiar protection with me.
“Anyway,” I say, needing to change the subject.
“Are the sports channels all over this?”
“Honestly, I haven’t looked.” He laughs.
“I’ll ask Bouchard.”
“That’s a good idea. You know he’s living for this today.”
My eyes finally stop leaking and a genuine smile lifts my lips. “Sometimes I think he wanted this more than we did.”
“Let’s not go that far,” Gavin says. I can hear shuffling noises coming from his end of the line, and what sounds like glasses banging together.
Curious, I ask, “What are you doing?”
“My dad and I are packing up my place.”
“Why? And no offense, but is that even a two-man job?”
“No. It’s not.” He laughs, answering the second question before answering the first. “I signed a new lease for us on an apartment in Bouchard’s building. There’s no way I’m moving you into this shithole.”
“How? I literally just got traded.”
“Bouchard’s been bugging me to move into this building for ages. I got in touch with the leasing agent after you left this morning so I could sign us as soon as I got confirmation you were coming. It’s a nice place. I hope you’ll like it.”
“Is it gonna have you in it?” I ask, and my goddamn eyes are watering again.
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll love it.”
Gavin
Moving is easy enough. All my dad and I had to do was strap my mattress to the top of my Jeep and throw my clothes in the hatch.
I left everything else, including the couch that now has a dip in it from three overgrown men sitting on it all day yesterday, for the next renter.
They can consider it a consolation prize for the dents in the drywall and the chunks missing from the kitchen countertop.
Bouchard is, of course, thrilled. He has my dad already set up in his apartment three floors below mine and Connor’s, in an actual bed for the night.
I felt bad that I didn’t have enough time to set up the guest room for him to stay in with us, but he said it was fine and that Connor and I needed our privacy tonight anyway.
Which he’s not wrong about. And it’s not only because we need to have loud sex later.
Granted that is part of it, but we also need some time for the two of us.
We honestly haven’t ever had that, and after the forty-eight hours we’ve just experienced, leaving both of us vulnerable and raw, we need some time to decompress before we’re back in the spotlight again.
Practice tomorrow is going to be a disaster.
I’ve been warned by our team’s PR manager to be on my best behavior.
No snapping at the press and telling them to fuck off, and no sending slap shots into the glass in their direction no matter how badly I’d like to.
As a matter of fact, I’ve been instructed to behave as Connor does when dealing with the press.
Turn on the charm, smile, laugh, be approachable.
So be anything but my usual grumpy self.
I smile as I step on the gas, getting on the highway to go claim Connor from the airport.
I guess it won’t be that hard to do what our PR guy is asking of me.
After all, Connor does bring out the best parts of me.
Hell, my cheeks are sore from how much more I’ve been smiling since he became a part of my life.
I never realized how much I neglected those muscles.
Which is funny considering how much time and effort I spend on the rest.
A message from Connor pops up on my phone.
I take a brief glance at it. His plane has landed.
I’m going to be right on time to get him.
I can’t wait. I can’t wait to kiss him. I can’t wait to get him in this car.
I can’t wait to start my new life with him.
My life where I have a reason to want to make a home.
A reason to no longer feel so lonely when I’m away from Alaska.
To have someone I care about enough to hold at night and relax in the comfort of knowing he will still be there in the morning.
He’s easy to spot wearing my Team USA hoodie and carrying his giant bag of hockey gear through the sliding glass doors of the airport as I pull up. I put the Jeep in park and jump out, then practically run to meet him so I can free him from his heavy bag.
“Thanks,” he says, and I kiss him before he can say anything else.
Luckily, he was on one of the last flights to land here in Buffalo for the night, so the airport is quiet. While we needed to be spotted sharing an intimate moment this morning, right now I’m back to valuing our privacy.
“How was your flight?” I ask once we’re back in my Jeep and heading to our new home.
“Good,” he laughs. “It was easily the best of the four I’ve been on in the last forty-eight hours.”
“Jesus. That’s a lot even for a hockey player.” I grab his hand and hold it in mine.
“You’re telling me. When’s our first away game?”
“Thursday,” I tell him. “So you get a two-day break from flying.”
“At least my next flight will be with you.”
“Your next one and every single one after that,” I say.
“And all hotel rooms,” he adds. I can hear the smile in his voice.
“And calorie-heavy meals eaten at a diner.”
He yawns, then says, “Those are my favorite.”
I pull his hand to my lips and kiss it. “Mine too.”
“Sorry,” he says as he yawns again.
“Tired?” I press my foot a little harder on the gas pedal to get us home faster. It’s late. The roads are empty anyway.
“Exhausted,” he says. “I’ve been like a livewire all day. But now I’m having a bit of an adrenaline crash.”
“It’s been a lot for you,” I say. It has been, and it’s not lost on me the weight all of it must feel like on his shoulders. “You don’t have any regrets, do you?”
“God, no,” he says.
I chance a glance at him. He’s staring at me with tired, red, but also content eyes. “I’ll make it worth it.”
“You already have.”