Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Jason
I pull out everything I need to make a good steak, then go out to the balcony to get the grill warmed up.
Once back inside, I open the packages, season the meat, and set it aside.
I prefer using a marinade, but I hadn’t planned ahead, so this is my second-best option.
I suppose I could’ve gone with the chicken, but steak is my favorite, and I kinda want to show off for Hailey.
I can grill and cook and … make a mean salad.
I cut up some baby potatoes, oil and season them, and pop them in the oven to roast. Then I get out a head of broccoli, chop it into small pieces, toss them with oil, salt, and pepper, then load them onto skewers for grilling.
Grilled broccoli is delicious, if I do say so myself.
I pull out a bagged salad and dump it in a bowl, hesitating before adding the dressing.
Not everyone likes the same kind of dressing.
Or the same amount. I even knew a girl who ate salad without any dressing.
Occasionally she’d do lemon juice and olive oil or the barest hint of vinaigrette, but usually just greens and cheese and a few other toppings.
This one has candied pecans and dried cranberries with a pomegranate vinaigrette, which I thought sounded delicious.
After tossing it all together in the bowl to make sure it’s well mixed, I decide to pour the dressing into two little bowls. She can add as much as she wants once it’s plated up, and I’ll do the same.
Once the sides are ready to go, I take the steak and broccoli out to the balcony, frowning and casting a glance toward the hallway when I realize Hailey hasn’t come out yet.
It hasn’t been that long, but she also didn’t have a ton of stuff.
I kinda figured she’d come hang out once she was settled.
Maybe she wants a little time to herself, though.
I sometimes do after spending the day flying.
With a shrug, I focus on grilling the steak. I could easily—and sometimes do—leave it alone for a few minutes, but since I’m cooking for Hailey, I want to make sure I don’t accidentally overcook it. I probably should’ve asked how she likes her steak …
Oh, well. I’ll make one medium and one medium rare. I prefer medium rare but am fine with either. And if she likes hers more medium well, or even well done, then I can cook it for a few more minutes for her.
I keep a close eye on the broccoli too, making sure it gets crispy, but not burnt. Once everything’s off the grill, I bring it back inside, tenting the plate with foil while I finish with the potatoes and let the steak rest a few minutes.
But Hailey still hasn’t come out. The food’s ready, other than needing to be put on individual plates, so I head to her room and lightly knock on the cracked open door. “Hailey? Food’s ready.”
Pushing the door open, I see her on the bed, fast asleep. It looks like she sat down for a minute, then just leaned sideways until her head hit the pillow, her feet still hanging off the bed.
Torn between waking her and letting her sleep, I stand and stare at her for a moment. But the sleep wins. Of course it does. She’s clearly exhausted. Reheated steak might not be as good, but she’ll still enjoy it after she’s had a nap, I’m sure.
Stepping back out, I pull a big, fuzzy throw blanket out of the closet and head back to her room. Gently, I scoop up her legs and tug off her slip-on shoes, then curl her legs onto the bed. Carefully, I cover her with the blanket, smoothing it down so it’s not over her face.
Her eyelids flutter open, and she lets out a groggy, “Wha?”
“It’s okay,” I whisper. “Go back to sleep.”
She hums and snuggles into the blanket, curling her hands under her chin, and settles back into sleep.
Yeah, she definitely needs the rest. Backing quietly out of the room, I close the door behind me, turning the handle and pulling as slowly as possible so it doesn’t click.
I told her that coming here meant she’d be safe and supported. And that starts now.
After eating dinner, I put Hailey’s portion away in the fridge. I’m sure she’ll be starving whenever she wakes up. I’d kinda hoped it’d just be a quick power nap, but one hour turns to two turns to five …
The sun’s long since down, I’ve been watching tape of the new players the team’s getting ahead of this month’s training camp.
A few of them are still in the Juniors, so they’ll join us for camp but mostly still play with their teams, only getting called up if we need to deepen the bench due to injuries or suspensions.
We also have a few new guys we’re getting from trades.
Coach is determined that we’ll win the Stanley Cup this year, so he’s managed to trade for a few players he’s hoping will fill in for our weaknesses.
Since we lost Easton to retirement a couple years ago—after having him out way too much on the injured list before that—we haven’t managed to bring in anyone to fill his shoes.
Abernathy, he, and I were the power trio.
If he hadn’t gotten hurt, we would’ve had the Stanley Cup already.
We’ve managed to get Cohen, another strong winger. He’s fast—almost as fast as me—and his puck handling is the stuff legends are made of, but the real test isn’t so much his skating, it’s how well he gels with the team.
And that’s the part that has me worried. He has a reputation as a hothead who likes to start fights. Dozer’s thrown down with him more than once. He talks shit like it’s his job, getting everyone pissed off and riled up.
Of course, that’s the point. He’s trying to piss everyone off enough that they make dumb mistakes, giving his team an edge.
More often than not, though, it just has people slamming him into the boards or getting into fights. Not sure how well it helps his team score goals—or stops opponents from scoring on them.
Hell, maybe that’s why they let him go so easily. Maybe he’s an asshole to his teammates too, and they’re sick of his shit.
God, I hope he helps and doesn’t make things worse.
Picking up my phone, I shoot off a text to Abernathy.
Thoughts on Cohen?
Abernathy
I’m keeping an open mind
That’s his way of saying he thinks the guy’s a shithead, but now that he’s our teammate, he won’t say it.
What do you think the best way to handle him is?
Like any other new team member. We welcome him to the team, be our usual selves, and hope he doesn’t act like he does on the ice when he’s in the locker room
Didn’t you have a buddy on his team? What does he say about him?
Uh, yeah. All he said was good luck
Oof.
Yeah. But like I said, we’re all keeping an open mind. And don’t you dare tell anyone else I told you that Ben said good luck
My lips are sealed
I tap my fingers on the side of my phone, seeing if he says anything else.
When he doesn’t, I go back to the video of Cohen, watching how he interacts with his teammates.
He’s a puck hog, ignoring passing options when it’s clear that’s the best choice.
Sure, yeah, he also scores a lot. I search his career stats, and he’s actually rated better than I am. But …
Fuck.
What was Coach thinking? The entire time I’ve been an Emerald, he’s drilled teamwork into our heads.
We don’t have star players. We have a star team.
While I tend to get passed the puck a lot, it’s because I score the most often when I take a shot.
All those years of target practice with Hunter when we were kids have paid off big time.
We’d pick a spot or set up a can, and I had to hit it off with a field hockey ball and my stick, and he had to knock it down with the football.
Cohen ignores an open teammate with a clear shot on the screen in front of me, opting instead to take the shot himself.
He lights the lamp, which is impressive given his angle and the number of defenders in the way.
But that’s not Coach’s style of play at all.
Let’s hope he has a plan to kick Cohen’s ass into shape.
Otherwise we’ll be worse off than we were before the trade.
Glancing at the clock, I realize it’s getting late, at least for me, and there’s still no sign of Hailey. Part of me wants to check on her, but I don’t want to risk waking her up by opening her door. Also, that might be creepy.
Instead, I fish a pad of sticky notes out of my desk and scribble a note letting her know to help herself to any of the food and telling her what time I usually wake up. That way, if she wakes up at two in the morning starving, she knows she can have whatever she wants.
Then I take myself to bed, my dreams full of Hailey and new teammates and the feeling that I’m chasing something I can never quite reach.