Chapter 38
Cole
“You have a game to get ready for,” Cassie laughs against my lips. “A kind of important one.”
I don’t stop kissing her. It's been a week since I brought her to Maine with me. Ever since then, it's only gotten harder to pretend like this is isn't deeper than sex for me, as life-changing as the sex has been. But it only makes me want to touch her all the more.
“I know,” I say, backing her up against the desk in this empty hockey operations office at the Nor’easters’ arena, “but I haven’t seen you all day. That’s too long.”
She makes a noise in her throat that sounds like she might actually not want me to go get ready for the game at all.
It’s risky putting my hands all over her inside the arena when technically anyone might walk in, but I don’t think logic is what’s guiding me right now.
But I know she’s right. Tonight is an important game.
Tonight, Noah is making his NHL debut.
He got the call-up a few days ago. This is huge for him, and I’m proud already.
Still, Cassie alone in this office room is pretty damn distracting. I’m sliding my hands up under her skirt, gripping at the smooth curve of her hips when an angry voice in the distance from outside the office stops me.
We glance at each other, and I cross the room to ease open the office door.
Noah is at the end of the hall, standing there with his agent, who’s this uptight asshole that everyone just calls the Shark.
Because he’s got dead eyes and will bite anyone’s head off to serve himself, which makes him very good at making money for his athletes—and, yes, just like the shark in Jaws, his real name is Bruce.
He makes Rick look like a teddy bear. That’s why I like Rick; he’s a slick agent, sure, but I know I can trust him not to stab me in the back.
“It’s Noah and his agent,” I mutter to Cassie, who comes to join me, staring out through the crack in the door.
The Shark is pointing up at Noah. He’s much shorter than Noah, but he radiates with the fire of a thousand asshole suns, which makes him seem bigger.
“Don’t give me this shit about luck, Roy,” he yells. “This is your big league debut, for god’s sake. Get over it.”
Noah frowns. “I just—”
His agent prods him in the chest. “I’ve heard enough. Get your shit together, all right? You better not screw up this game.” He strides off down the hallway, angrily muttering to himself.
Noah’s shoulders sag, his face turning a little grayer.
“What a complete jerk,” Cassie murmurs. “We should go check if Noah’s okay.”
“I’ll handle this. I’ll see you later, okay?”
She nods, and I give her one last quick kiss before I leave the office and stride down the hallway to where Noah stands.
“What was that about?” I ask.
Noah glances at me in surprise. “You—you heard that?”
“Yeah, I think the whole arena heard your agent giving you shit right before your NHL debut.” I cross my arms, raising an eyebrow. “Guy’s an asshole. What was he saying? You feeling okay about the game?”
I know Noah. I know he’s got to be nervous, got to be feeling that anxious streak that overwhelms him sometimes.
Noah groans and slumps down onto the bench. I join him.
“The thing is,” he says, “I’ve actually been feeling great about getting called up.
I thought I’d be totally freaked out, but I’ve just been excited for my first game.
Cassie got me to make an appointment with this great sports psych, who showed me all these exercises to stay calm. It’s really been working.”
My chest softens. I’m not the only hockey player who’s benefiting from Cassie’s warm, caring heart this season.
“That’s great, Noah.”
“Yeah, except…” A flush rises on Noah’s face.
“It’s stupid. I was talking to my agent about tonight’s game, and I mentioned I was stressed because I can’t find my good luck charm.
It’s this woven bracelet my mom made for me when I was a kid.
I haven’t played a game without it since I was in middle school.
My agent’s been on red alert since I told him about my panic attacks, and he lost it. ”
Hockey players are superstitious as hell. I should know; I’m a goalie, and we have a reputation for being the craziest of the lot. You have to be in order to deal with knowing the outcome of every game rests squarely on your shoulders.
I shake my head. “You got it all wrong, kid. It’s not about having a lucky charm, and anyone who believes that is a damn fool.
You’re talented as hell, and that came from natural skill and hard work.
You’re not going to crush it in the NHL because of a bracelet.
You’re going to go far if you have good people in your corner to help foster your talent.
If you make sure you keep perspective. If you have balance. ”
Balance. The word keeps circling my head.
The last year I’ve felt so much resentment toward my career, to the sport I love so much. But right now, being here for Noah, the resentment isn’t pressing on my chest so hard.
Instead, it feels kind of right again.
Noah nods his head, breathing out heavily. “I guess you’re right. I don’t need a good luck charm for tonight to go well.”
I gently punch his shoulder. “Kindness makes you stronger, not weaker. You know I hate this corny shit, but it’s true. Your agent pushing you like that will never help your game or your life. He’s been giving you shit all season just because you dare to admit you have feelings.”
Noah frowns. “Everyone told me he was the best agent in the business. That he would get me the best deal once my entry level contract is done. But he just makes me feel like shit about myself.”
“Maybe it’s time to rethink the kind of people you keep in your corner.” I shrug. “But that’s a conversation for another day, all right? Right now, we’re focused on your first NHL game.”
We rise to our feet, but I pause for a moment. I pull my wallet from my pocket, slide out a worn ticket stub, and press it into Noah’s hand.
He stares down at it. “What is this?”
“My good luck charm. A subway ticket from the morning I was drafted. Don’t look too closely at the date, ’cause it’ll make me feel old. Been carrying it around in my wallet since that day. You take it. The luck will transfer.”
Noah’s eyes widen. “I thought you said anyone who believes in luck is a fool.”
“Yeah, well.” My mouth tugs into a crooked smile. “Didn’t say I’m not one of those fools.”
He laughs, and his fingers close around the ticket, even as he begins to shake his head.
“Cole, wait. I can’t take this. What about your luck? Don’t you need it for the game?”
I glance back at the office where I left Cassie, remembering her laugh in my ears, still feeling her lips against mine.
“Don’t worry, rookie. I’ve got myself a new good luck charm, and right now I’m feeling like the luckiest damn man on earth.”