Chapter 4
Theo
“God damn,” Grady says. “You still have the hardest shot in the league.”
He pulls off his blocker glove and shakes out his hand, and I feel guilty. “Sorry! Got carried away.”
“Don’t apologize. I’m fine.” He lifts his mask, grinning. “It’s still a rush to stop you.”
“Then you should do it more often,” I smirk and skate by his crease, scooping up a wayward puck on the flat of my stick and flipping it in the air on repeat. My shoulder smarts a little, but I don’t care. This is awesome. God, I miss hockey so fucking much.
I let the puck drop and spin to face the net Grady isn’t standing in.
I’m at the face-off circle to the left of Grady, almost as far from the opposing net as you can get.
I narrow my eyes and haul off with a slap shot.
The puck careens through the air, hits the ice just over the blue line, and bounces, but only slightly, before sliding into the net with enough force to make the mesh ripple.
I hear clapping from the tunnel. Coach Alex Larue is standing there in a Riptide track suit with a whistle around his neck. My cheeks heat. “Hi Co— Mr. Larue.”
“Quite the aim. Still got it, I see.”
“Trying to hold onto it, yeah,” I say, and he motions for Grady and I to come closer. I glide that way slowly. I really didn’t want an audience. I’ve been avoiding hockey people since I lost my spot in the league.
“Seems like you’re doing a fine job. I’ve been spying for a while,” Mr. Larue admits. “How’s your conditioning?”
“I work out every day and skate a couple times a week.”
“Where?”
“I rent out a rink about forty minutes out of town. It’s a small, local thing, but it’s affordable,” I say. “I’m not poor, but with the endorsements and the salary gone… I’m trying to budget.”
He nods. “Thanks for bringing him by, Grady.”
My eyebrows pinch, and I look up at my cousin, who gives me a sheepish smile. “He asked me to get you here. He wanted to see you on the ice.”
“Why?”
“Because we need to strengthen our defense.”
I stare at him, not putting the pieces together fast enough. I feel like everyone is waiting for me to figure out what he’s saying. “So you wanted to ask me how to strengthen your defense?”
He laughs, and Grady rolls his eyes. “I wanted to see if you are how I strengthen the defense, Richard.”
“Me?” I blink. A lot.
Alex Larue’s blue eyes widen. “Is that off the table? Have you intentionally retired? Because I got the impression you would play again if you could.”
“Professionally?” I ask. “In the NHL?”
“I mean, yeah, last time I checked the Riptide were in the NHL,” he replies and smiles again, all the scars on his face deepening.
Alex Larue had played for more NHL teams than I could count.
Like me, he was a defenseman. He was a pest and an enforcer, and also highly skilled.
I’d like to think my game was—is—a mix of his style and my dad’s.
“I’m not exactly offering a spot, yet. But I’d like to offer you a tryout.
Come on board for training camp and see if it’s a good fit for both of us. ”
I stare at him. He can’t be serious. I look up at Grady again, and he smiles reassuringly. “Dude, this is the part where you say yes.”
“Do you still have an agent?” Mr.—Coach—Larue asks.
I feel like I can call him coach again if he still thinks of me as a player.
“I can send them the tryout offer. No guarantees. And if we do take you on, it’ll definitely be like starting again.
We can’t offer you the three-point-seven million a year you were making in Vegas.
Our salary cap is tight. Not gonna lie about that. ”
“If you decide to keep me, I would take entry-level pay,” I blurt out, and Grady chuckles.
Coach smiles. “We can probably do better than that when the time comes.”
He said when. He’s confident. My heart races. Am I confident? Can I do this? Yes. I can. I want this.
“His agent is Leo Abbott,” Grady says for me because I forgot to answer.
“I’ll send the paperwork to Abbott. And you think it over, Theo,” Larue says.
“Thanks, Coach.”
He raises a scarred eyebrow. “Coach? So I guess that’s a good sign. We got rid of the mister garbage already.”
I smile. “I’d love another shot.”
“Okay then, let’s give you one.” He extends his hand. I yank off the glove I’m wearing and shake it. “This isn’t a handout. I saw today you still got it, kid, but you have to keep showing me. Every single day.”
“Yes, sir.” I nod.
“See you tomorrow. Practice is at eleven.” He turns and walks back down the tunnel.
I stare after him. God, what a fucking day. I look up at Grady, emotions swamping me, and take a shaky breath. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you as a cousin and a friend, but thank you.”
“Shut up.” Grady shoves me, grinning like the goofball he is. “You’re a good guy, Theo. Everyone knows it. Why don’t you?”
Good question, I think. I’ve been wondering that for a while. “Let’s change. I have a meeting in forty-five minutes.”
“A meeting?” Grady repeats, his thick red eyebrows lift in confusion.
“AA,” I explain as I grab my bag off the bench and we penguin march on our skates through the tunnel.
“Are you… like thinking about drinking again?” Grady asks as we get to the hallway where the training rooms and locker room are located. His expression gets tight with worry.
“I mean… I think about it, but I don’t want to do it.
” It’s impossible to make other people understand how the urge to drink feels more like a reflex than a conscious decision, which is part of the reason I’ve kept to myself.
I also feel like people will look at me like I’m a ticking time bomb because, as Grady pointed out, I’ve stopped drinking before and gone back to it. “The meetings help me stay focused.”
He nods, but I don’t know if he actually understands.
That’s fine, though. The worry leaves his face, which is the most important thing.
I don’t need to stress him out. He tried really hard last season to get me sober, and I think my accident makes him feel like a failure.
He leans on his stick. “Also, I wanted to tell you, Landon and I really appreciate the letter. I know it was part of your steps in AA, but still. They meant a lot, but we both think you need to cut yourself some slack.”
“I’m fine. I promise,” I say. I wrote letters to basically every single member of my family as part of Twelve Steps in AA—the making amends part.
Grand shakes his head. “Dude, you really didn’t out us. I mean, we were ready for people to know, and if someone had asked us about it, we would have honestly told them.”
“Yeah, but—”
“No. No buts.” Grady shakes his head. “And come change in the locker room.”
“Not until the tryout contract is signed. I don’t want to jinx it.
” I had insisted on changing into my gear in the restroom across from the locker room because I wasn’t a player, and using an official NHL team’s locker room felt off.
Even with Coach’s offer, I wasn’t technically trying out until the contract was signed, sealed, and delivered, so I head into the restroom. Yeah, I am that superstitious.
I drop my bag by the sinks and start to peel out of my gear. I’m not in full gear with pads and everything because this wasn’t a game or even a real practice. I pull off the old practice jersey I’m wearing and then jump up on the counter between the two sinks to untie my skates.
That’s when I hear a toilet flush, and before I can even move, or jump off the counter and throw my jersey back on so I’m not half naked, there’s a beautiful woman standing there.
She’s got the biggest, most beautiful blue eyes I have ever seen, but they’re red-rimmed.
The pale skin on her high cheekbones is flushed—splotchy.
Her dark hair isn’t very long, and it’s kind of messy and not in that purposeful way.
She’s beautiful, even though she looks tragic.
“Are you okay?” I ask stupidly because she’s clearly not.
“Sorry. I thought players changed in the locker room,” she says as her watery eyes sweep up and down my body. I realize I probably look ridiculous standing here shirtless in hockey pants with only one skate on. I hop back up onto the counter and start untying my other one.
“They do. I’m…” not a player? Except maybe I am. Again. “I’m a long story. And you’ve been crying.”
“Yeah,” she admits and sniffs again before walking to the sink farthest from me. “I will leave you alone. I just gotta wash my hands.”
She pumps the soap dispenser.
“Are you okay?” She doesn’t answer me as I get my second skate off and slip off the counter, propping it next to the other one against the wall.
And then it hits me. The similarity. She’s got the same cheekbones as Landon Casco and his eyes, too.
Grady’s words about staying downtown to meet her come floating back. “Are you Landon Casco’s sister? Lola?”
She bristles and catches my eye in the mirror. “Yeah.”
“I’m…” It’s not the first time I don’t like telling people who I am. The news of my “incident” spread far and wide, and people now recognize my name for all the wrong reasons. Lola will definitely know it since she’s a Casco. “I’m related to Grady Garrison.”
“That doesn’t narrow it down.” She blinks her big blue eyes with thick dark lashes. I can’t help but notice. “Oh fuck. You’re Theo Richard.”
She walks swiftly to the paper towel dispenser and yanks off a piece. Her gaze goes everywhere but me.
“I’m sorry. For what happened… on that video.”
“For what you did? Drunkenly outing him?” Lola says flatly.
“Yes. For that.”
She tosses the paper towel into the wastebasket. “You apologized to him, I’m told, and he has no hard feelings. That’s what matters.”
Her gaze moves to me as she reaches for the door handle, and she seems to notice my scars.
The one from the compound fracture on my left bicep is particularly gruesome, and I know it.
Her face softens a little, and she finds my eyes.
“Can you do me a favor and not tell Grady I was crying? Or anyone?”
“Are you okay?” I ask the question she’s yet to answer. “He said you were breaking up with your boyfriend.”
“Pete isn’t my boyfriend. He never was. I wish they would understand that,” Lola replies and runs her hands through her hair self-consciously.
“He made you cry?”
“No. It’s stress tears because…” She sighs. “I can’t seem to make him leave me alone. He is like… I don’t know… impossible. It was never a relationship. It was supposed to be a fling. Anyway, I made it very clear this time.”
“Are you sure?” I ask. “Dudes like that… they usually need to hear it from more than one source. I bet Grady and Landon could help you explain it to him.”
Lola pushes her shoulders back and juts out that pretty little chin. “I don’t need their help. Or your advice. Thanks anyway, though.”
She yanks open the door and leaves.