Chapter Eleven
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MAX
It takes Sabrina two days to cave and go to my mother for my address. I only know this because my brother Tom gives me the heads-up. Mom, apparently, was beaming and bragging to any member of the family who would listen that Sabrina popped over and surprised her with her favourite butter tarts. My mom loves Sabrina. Dare I say almost more than me? Almost .
And while I know Sabrina has a soft spot for my mom, I also know being roped in for a cup of coffee and a chat was not something she wanted to go through. Not when she finally had my address and murder on her mind.
I may be losing my damn mind, but I’m actually looking forward to the confrontation. There’s a pep in my step, and I can’t wipe the goofy smile off my face as I do a quick clean of the kitchen. At the last second, I call the security desk of my apartment building and let them know I’ll have a guest sometime today.
It would be fun to see her riled up even more by being denied entry, but I don’t want to poke the bear…well…more than I already have.
When the text comes, notifying me I have a visitor on the way up, a second of panic courses through my body. What the hell do I do with my hands? Do I wait for her at the door? Should I have put out food or maybe—
My internal panic stops with a knock at the door. Actually, it’s more like pounding at the door. Panic is replaced with a tingling anticipation. All my senses feel heightened now that’s she’s in my space.
The hardwood floor feels cool under my feet as I cross to the door. I can smell the peppermint oil I put in the diffuser this morning in the air. And I can hear my heart beat, beat, beating in my chest. This is it.
“You fucker” are the first words Sabrina says to me as she storms past the front door. “You absolute fucker.”
“Hello to you too, Sabrina.” It takes everything in me not to laugh at her dramatic entrance, but really, what else did I expect? Manners? Never. That wasn’t what our foundation of friendship was built on.
With my words, she stops dead in her tracks. I’m not sure where she’s headed since she’s never been in my apartment before, but the war march stops.
She mocks me. “ Hello to you too . You know, you really are a pain in the ass.”
Closing the door and making my way toward her, I gesture into the living room. “Yes, I have heard that. Many times from my brothers and teammates.”
“Well,” she scoffs, reluctantly following my lead into the room. “They got it right. Insufferable too.” There’s no heat behind the words as she looks around the apartment. Her butt has just touched the sofa when she pops up and walks to the floor-to-ceiling window. “Holy cow,” she whispers, taking in the city below.
As Sabrina gazes down at the never-sleeping city, I take her in. She looks good, relaxed in a way I haven’t seen her in a while. Her red, wavy hair is pulled back into an elaborate bun thing, and she’s in a bulky sweater and jeans. Even casually dressed, she’s a striking woman.
It’s her eyes and sharp cheekbones that are the real showstopper. If she’s set her sights on you, you get lost in the mossy green of her eyes.
“Is this the place we’re doing the documentary?” Sabrina asks, having turned around and made her way back to the sofa.
“Only a small portion will be done here. I share this apartment with Mason and Sidney, and I don’t want to inconvenience them too much with the filming schedule. I have a house in Barrie that the production team was adamant be the main stage for the series.”
“You have two houses?”
“I rent this apartment with my teammates, so it’s not a big deal. It’s really a place to crash after games or long travel days. If I have any time off, I’m up north.”
“No big deal? This no big deal apartment is a penthouse on the fifty-sixth floor.”
I press my lips together in indecision. She’s not going to like what I’m about to say.
“The apartment was big enough for three hockey players to live in without bumping into each other, and we need the security this place provides. Some of our fans are…”
“Determined, I imagine.”
“Exactly.”
Sabrina turns to me just as I’m gesturing to the kitchen.
“Oh my God, Max! Go put on some clothes.”
Confused, I look down at my clothing. “What are you talking about, Bean? I’m fully dressed.”
“That’s what you called dressed? It’s below freezing outside, and you’re walking around like you’re on a beach. Too much skin, Max. Too much. And what even is that top?”
My confusion turns to understanding. A smile slowly begins to spread across my face until I’m wide-eyed and probably looking deranged. Sabrina’s having trouble not staring at me. My arms specifically, I notice.
“Sabrina Sutton. Are you ogling me?” I tease.
“In your dreams, Maximillian.” If it were possible, my smile would have grown at her use of her childhood nickname for me. We both knew Max wasn’t short for anything, but she loved finding new long, elaborate names to call me.
There’s a smartass reply on my tongue, but I think better of it. I don’t want to tease and piss her off across a line I can’t come back from today. Becoming Sabrina’s friend again is going to be a lot like a lion tamer gaining the trust of his new lion—tricky, dangerous, and needing to be handled with finesse. And treats, lots of treats.
“It’s a tank top, for your information. I have a new sponsorship deal with Battlements Inc., and they sent this over. Feel how soft this material is.”
“No, thank you. I’ll take your word for it.” She eyes me again. When she realizes I’ve caught her in the act, she stomps to the other end of the room. “Did they send a sweater in that amazing fabric that you could put on?”
Apparently, my arms and the suggestion of male nipple are her kryptonite. I wish I could say it was me, but I know better.
“Yeah, they did. I’ll be back. Help yourself to a cup of tea. The water should still be hot, and the blue box at the end of the counter is full of bags.” I notice from the corner of my eye that Sabrina jolts at my offering. I want to ask her what’s wrong, but she’s moving into the kitchen before I can open my mouth. Maybe I was just seeing things.
In my room, I shift through the box of apparel that I was sent and locate the soft Toronto Nighthawks sweater. It is as soft as the tank top, but the colors are brilliant on this piece. The dark, vivid blue, the signature colour of the Nighthawks, with the black detailing, is epic. I have no doubt that when this launches in a couple of weeks, the fans will go nuts.
Giving myself a quick look in the mirror, I brush through my hair with my fingers, trying to get the curly strands out of my face. When I’m somewhat satisfied with the style, I head back out to find Sabrina curled up on my couch, holding a steaming mug between two hands.
I make a quick detour into the kitchen, grabbing a protein shake from the fridge. Late in the afternoon, I can’t have any caffeine. Even if the label says decaf, I always find I have trouble sleeping.
Sabrina’s head turns as I enter the room. Her expression lights up when she sees me. Finally. Progress.
I should have known better.
“Whoa! Is that part of your sponsorship collection?” she asks excitedly, putting her tea down and rising up on her knees. I pause beside her as she reaches out to feel the material. “Oh my God, when does this drop? The colors are just—” Her hand flies back to her side as if she’s been burned. Casting her eyes away, she settles back on the sofa. “Sorry, got carried away there. I love a good sweater.”
“No worries,” I reply with a bit of hesitation in my voice. The sudden change in her demeanour throws me off. “And yeah, it’s part of the collection. From what they tell me, it’s supposed to be released soon. Just in time for Black Friday,” I end with a chuckle, adjusting myself as I sit on the other end of the sofa.
She nods, hearing my words, but I can tell she’s lost in her head. The silence stretches for a couple of minutes until I can’t take it anymore.
“Are you trying to kill me with the silent treatment? If so, I’d have to say it’s working.”
Her attention comes back to me. The corners of her lips twist up the smallest bit, hinting at a smile.
“My murderous intentions have simmered down to only wanting to seriously maim you. But I could be swayed back, don’t test me.”
I raise my hands up in the air, playing along. “I wouldn’t dare.”
“I came here to talk. There are a few things we need to get straight before I take the job with SNN.”
“Wait. You haven’t taken the job yet?”
“I haven’t signed anything. I may have verbally accepted. But that’s not the point, Max. We need to sort our shit before anything is official.”
“What shit do we need to sort, Bean?” I ask with frustration in my tone. “Cuz where I’m sitting, we’re good. It’s you who needs to get over the past.”
“ Me ? You’re saying I’m the problem here?”
“I’m not saying that. I’m saying you have a problem, with me specifically, that you need to get over. I’m not sorry that I signed with Montreal. I know you see it as a betrayal, but they gave me a start that no other team came close to. I would have been a fool not to take it. Rivalry or not.”
“Fine. Yes, I was angry that you signed with Montreal… because it’s fucking Montreal ! We were both raised cursing that team, and the fact you could even consider going to Toronto’s rival was rage inducing. But I got over that. What still boils my blood is the fact you never came home. Never saw your family.”
Her words shock me. That’s what she’s been mad about for the last decade? Not a betrayal to her but to my family.
Putting my bottle on the side coffee table, I turn fully to Sabrina.
“First of all, you’re a sports reporter. Aren’t you supposed to be neutral on all teams?”
She sticks her tongue out at me, crossing her arms over her chest at the same time. I try to ignore the fact she’s just lifted her tits in front of me.
“Secondly, you’re right. The first two years, I was distant from my family. But that doesn’t mean I just abandoned them. I couldn’t make it home a lot with the game schedule, and I was still getting used to the intensity of playing in the NHL. But I did everything I could to stay in touch.”
As I’m saying this out loud to her, it dawns on me that there might be another layer of hurt on her end. Not for my family but for her. I didn’t stay in touch with her either.
When she had learned about my signing, Sabrina had ranted that she didn’t want to hear from me and to fuck off. I should have known better than to believe her words. Hadn’t we been saying the same thing to each other most of our adolescent lives?
It was the one constant I could always count on: that Sabrina and I would bicker, fight, end our friendship and then days later be back to best friends. There was always a tension between us. It had just shifted for me without any warning.
But that’s a confession for another time.
Reaching out, I place a hand on her shoulder. Her green eyes shift back to me, a shininess in them that makes me want to tug her whole body into my arms.
“I’m sorry, Sabrina. I should have made more of an effort to keep in touch with you. I just truly believed…”
“That I never wanted to talk to you again.” She lets out a long, deep sigh. “That fight was a bit different than all our other teenage rage-fests.” A little laugh escapes her.
“It was, but I still should have tried.”
She nods again, looking away in thought.
A long moment passes in silence. Sabrina takes a sip of her tea. I’m on pins and needles about whether we’re cool now or if more needs to be hashed out.
“Okay,” she finally says, breaking the silence. “Let’s leave the past in the past and start fresh. Do you want to go over the production schedule and quickly go over what you do and don’t want to talk about on camera?”
Back to business mode.
“Yeah, that works for me.”
For the next half hour, we chat about what’s coming next. Sabrina takes notes on her phone, planning out how she’s going to approach some of the days and the themes the studio has requested we touch on.
I’ve let SNN and Sabrina know the lines of conversation I don’t want to go down. Mainly a rumoured rivalry —which is a hundred percent accurate—that picked up media attention last year and my eldest brother’s messy divorce to a Broadway star. Anything else I’m happy to chat about.
“Okay, that’s a good place to start. I’m sure Bruna and Ricky will have input, but I’ll worry about that later.” Sabrina smiles, clicking her phone off to a blank screen. Untucking her legs from the comfortable position she’d been sitting in, she rubs her eyes with the palms of her hands. “Damn, why am I so tired today?”
“It’s the adrenaline from the new project. I feel it too,” I say, fighting back a yawn.
So distracted by my tiredness, I almost miss the soft expression Sabrina gives me. By the time it registers in my brain, the look is gone.
“Thank you,” she says quietly. “For thinking of me for this series. I was at a bit of a stalemate, and this got me back on track.”
“You would have gotten something amazing on your own soon.”
“Oh, I know,” she proudly boasts. “But what you did…I could never repay—”
I cut her off, not wanting to hear anything about repayment or the like. I know, deep within my heart, that if I was ever in a tough situation, Sabrina would do whatever she could to help. I merely put her name in the producer’s ears and let the weight of my influence do the rest.
“I honestly couldn’t imagine doing something like that with anyone else. I know you’ll show me in the perfect light,” I joke with her.
Nodding in agreement, she raises a brow. “It is a weird full-circle moment.”
Our gaze locks, but this time, something is different. The way she’s looking at me feels almost heated. Not fury or anger…but more. I feel the pull.
Before my body is able to follow the feeling, Sabrina is springing to her feet.
“Well, I should be going,” she says louder than needed. She immediately starts heading for the door.
Taken by surprise, I almost trip over my own feet as I follow her to the door. Where the hell has my agility and grace gone?
“You sure you need to go? We could order dinner. Maybe catch the Vancouver game?”
“Honestly, I’m too tired to wait for a West Coast game tonight. Thanks for the offer though. I had a surprisingly good time tonight.”
“Even if it did start with a bang.”
“Yeah, even still. Have a good night, Max. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you soon.”
She’s out the door after that last parting remark.
“You’ll be hearing from me even sooner,” I tell the closed door.
Now that I have a toe back in Sabrina’s good graces, there’s no stopping me now. She thinks our relationship is going to stay professional…I have other plans.