Chapter Three
CHAPTER THREE
MAX
It didn’t matter to my family that it was the beginning of hockey season or that I had training that morning and afternoon. All they cared about was that I had a couple of free hours in my day before I had to hop on a flight to Montreal, so there was no excuse for me to be a no-show to the party for family friends.
I didn’t want to miss Sven and Savanah’s retirement party. After all, they’d been my childhood neighbours and had been like a second pair of parents to me. They’re good people, and I wanted to celebrate with them.
It was just…I wasn’t sure how I’d be received by them after…well, everything. What had their daughter told them about our last conversation?
I’m sure my parents also thought there was a bit of ego at play about not going. I’m a sports celebrity now. Even if admitting that feels weird and wrong. People recognize me no matter how hard I try to lie low. This was an important day for the Suttons, and I didn’t want to take away their spotlight.
“Even just standing hurts,” I hear murmured to the left of me. Grinning wide, I turn toward Miller Scotts, one of the rookies, and laugh. “Sorry,” he says louder this time. “Didn’t mean for that to be said out loud.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it. We’ve all been there,” I reply, my voice full of humour.
“You remember your first season, old man?” Tyson yells across the room. His booming laugh follows quickly after.
I give him the middle finger. “This old man skated circles around you today. Better watch yourself, 34.”
At twenty-nine, I’m not the oldest on the team by far, but I am the only one who’s been part of the Toronto Nighthawks for over five years. To some of the team, that puts me in grandpa territory. If they want to call me old, that’s up to them, but I’ll give as good as I get.
“That was just during warm-up.”
“You call all of practice a warm-up? Don’t let Coach hear you say that.”
The locker room echoes with laughter, and Tyson shakes his head. The smile on his face grows larger as he gains more attention.
“You still heading to that party?”
Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I nod at Mason, the team’s leading defenseman and my best friend. “I think so. My parents will be disappointed if I don’t at least try and go.”
He nods, not meeting my gaze. I can tell he’s deciding whether or not to ask a question. “Do you think she will be there?”
Damn it.
“Probably. It is her parents’ retirement party. If I don’t make it on the flight tonight, you’ll know why.”
“Yeah. You’ll either be in the hospital or dead,” he jokes with me.
“Exactly.” Giving his fist a knock with mine, I head out.
Mason’s question circles my brain for the entire car ride over to my parents’ place. I don’t want to focus on the negative right now or think about her and the past. It’s hard not to though.
Chances are I’m going to run into her today. I’m not scared to see her, more nervous over her reaction. If I’m being honest with myself, I’m actually excited to be around Sabrina. Even if the interaction is loaded with tension, it’ll be nice to just be in her company again. To hear her voice, her laugh. I miss what we once had.
Yet, at the same time, if she reacts to my presence like I imagine she will…it’ll cause a scene in the middle of her parents’ celebration. I hope she can hold back her fury at me.
The street is already lined with parked cars as I slowly turn into my parents’ driveway. I’m not surprised at the turnout but equally amazed that this many people could fit into the Sutton house.
My dad must have been watching for me because as soon as I’m parked in their driveway, he comes barrelling out from the side gate.
“You made it!” he cheers, reaching for my shoulder and pulling me into a quick hug. The rap on the back he gives me knocks the air out of my lungs.
“Practice wrapped up on time,” I tell him as I cough to clear my throat. “I can only stay for a little while before I need to head out.”
“Of course, of course. Heading to Montreal, right?”
“Yeah. Then we’re on the road for the next three games.”
As I walk with him to the neighbours’ backyard gate, he nods. “How are you feeling? Did you get your shoulder checked out after that last hit?”
I smirk at my dad’s worry. He has always been one of my biggest supporters, but he’s also a bit of a worrier. I love that about him.
“The team’s physiotherapist had a look at it, and we’ve been working on it together. I’m feeling good. Ready for a stellar season.”
“That’s my boy,” he boasts, giving my shoulder a squeeze before looking across the lawn. “Judy! Look who made it.”
I shake my head as my mom throws her hands up in relief and waves us over.
It takes half an hour for me to say hi to my parents’ friends and then find and congratulate the Suttons on their dual retirement. They both look happy and carefree, ready for the next stage of their lives.
“Didn’t think you’d show your face around here,” a snide voice comments as I head into the house to find a drink. Turning, I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face.
“Suzie! Oh God, it’s good to see you. How’ve you been?”
“Really. That’s the question you want to ask me?”
I give her a confused look but try not to let my smile dim. “Am I missing something? What should I be asking you?”
I think I know what she’s expecting, but I’m not going to give in. Suzie will crack first.
“Okay.” She blinks at me innocently. Taking a big gulp of her wine, she gives me a quick recap of everything in her life. “Not that you know about my exciting and glamorous life, I’ll let you know that she’s outside getting some air.”
Jackpot. I knew she wouldn’t be able to resist.
“I don’t think she wants to see me, Suzie. And this isn’t the place to—”
“I think you should at least go say hi. She’s not herself today, and maybe seeing you will get her spark back.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. Instantly, I go into protector mode.
“Is she okay? Did something happen to her that—”
“Stop.” Suzie holds up her free hand. “She’s fine, but she’s quiet today. And you know what a quiet Sabrina means.”
Nothing good.
I stand there, debating whether it’s a good idea or not to go see her. In the end, there’s no stopping me. If Sabrina is going through something, even if I’m enemy number one to her, I want to be there for her.
She may have pushed me away all those years ago, but I never stopped checking in on her.
Finding the drinks table, I grab a bottle of water and start making my way through the crowd. A couple of people try to stop me to talk, but I dodge them with an excuse about leaving. I’ve just circled one of the food tables when I spot something that may act as a peace offering with Sabrina.
Grabbing the plate, I rush for the front door. As soon as I’m outside on the porch, I spot her. You honestly can’t miss her rioting curls of red hair. She’s a beacon wherever she goes.
Getting a look at her face in real life for the first time in a decade is staggering. She was beautiful the last time we were friends, but now…she’s grown into a stunning woman. Seeing her on TV doesn’t do her justice.
“You hiding out here, Bean?”
I have no idea why I say it, but the casual comment doesn’t put her on alert immediately. Her lips twist into a smile, but as she turns toward my voice, understanding dawns on her.
The soft look on her face turns to a hard glare, and both her hands ball up into fists. I brace myself, ready for her to yell and tear me apart. But it doesn’t come. Instead, she sighs and turns away.
“No. Not today. I can’t handle whatever you’ve come outside for.”
I hate the dejection I hear in her voice. She sounds tired and sad, two emotions that are rare for a woman of her exuberance. Slowly, still clutching my water under my arm and the peace offering, I slide into the chair beside her.
For a couple of minutes, we both just sit in silence. When she doesn’t say anything more or ask me to leave, I pass the plate of deep-fried pickles over to rest on the arm of my chair. Her head tilts to see what I’m doing.
“You took a whole plate of pickles?”
“The appetizer plates were too small, so I commandeered one that was more my size.”
“You’re still such an idiot,” she says, grabbing a deep-friend pickle.
I shrug, happy that she’s feeling herself enough to call me names.
“I saw an opportunity, and I took it. Deep-fried pickles aren’t usually on my nutritionist’s meal plan.”
She makes a rude noise at my comment, but I let it go. I know what she’s thinking.
Another minute passes in silence as we pick at the plate. I try to ignore the sounds she makes when she bites into each pickle. The little moans of satisfaction.
Needing to get her to stop making that noise, I ask her the question that’s been weighing on my mind since I talked to her sister.
“You okay?”
She doesn’t say anything for a long while. I don’t think she’s actually going to talk to me or acknowledge me again when suddenly she opens up.
“I quit my job today,” she says, still not looking at me. “With no backup plan.”
Stunned that she’s talking to me, I swallow and think about what I should say next. I don’t want to say the wrong thing and have her close up on me. She’s telling me this for a reason, I think. It’s a small step toward us being civil again.
“Why?” is the genius response I have.
“I’d taken over live reporting when the lead got in an accident and the Sphere needed another analyst to step in. I was doing an amazing job—I know I was,” she says with no ego in her voice. It was fact. “But they gave the full-time gig to a male colleague.”
“Who?” I ask, the word out of my mouth instantly. I was absolutely bewildered they didn’t see her talent. I would never tell Sabrina this, not right now, at least, but I’d been watching her blossom as a sports reporter over the last few years. I had been secretly hoping that sometime soon, she would be made to interview me in between periods just so that I would get the chance to interact with her.
“Robert Chamberlain.”
“Are you fucking for real?” I bellow. “That guy’s a complete idiot. I almost punched him the last time he disrespected Crane. And he can’t pronounce any last name that isn’t a colour.”
That gets a giggle out of her.
“Oh, trust me, I am aware of what a complete moron he is. But the higher-ups”—she uses air quotations—“think he’s a better fit for the role.”
There are a million things I could say right now. I could point out the injustice of it all, how bad of a mistake they’ve made, or even continue belittling Robert. It would get a reaction out of her; it would let her know I’m just as mad as she is.
But it wouldn’t really help. And I desperately want to help her.
“I’m sorry, Bean,” I finally whisper out. “That really sucks, and I’m sorry.”
Her head slowly swivels to me, her eyes wide. I brace myself for tears, ready to offer my sleeve if needed. In true Sabrina fashion, she surprises me.
Taking a deep, stuttering inhale, she nods. “Thanks.”
We hold gazes for a long moment. I’m hoping she’ll say something else and I’ll be able to stay with her for a little longer, but the slam of the front door ruins the moment.
Sabrina jumps from the chair and reaches for the half-empty plate of pickles.
“These are coming with me,” she states, then heads back into the house.
Twisting to watch her until she disappears inside, I silently celebrate when she’s out of my line of sight. We talked! She didn’t yell at me or insult me. Our first chat in over a decade was a success.
Pulling out my phone from my pocket, I text my dad to let him know I’m heading out and will see him and Mom in a few weeks. I feel lighter than air as I make my way back to my car and head out.
The one thought that stays with me for the rest of the day is how I can get Sabrina back in my everyday life and if there is any way to help her.
Because if there’s one thing I’m really good at, it’s winning.