15. Grant
FIFTEEN
GRANT
SEPTEMBER, FIVE SEASONS AGO
“Man. Summer is over. Training camp starts tomorrow.” Ethan rests his video controller on his lap and groans. “Guess we’re back to having our asses kicked.”
“I like having my ass kicked. Offseason workouts are never tough enough.” I set my beer on a coaster and sigh. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I actually miss Coach making us skate a hundred laps.”
“You need to get out of the house more,” Connor says, and Hudson hums in agreement.
“Really, Grant. We’re not leaving you alone in the summer again,” Riley adds.
“What do you think Coach does in the summer?” Ethan asks.
“Probably hangs out with his daughter. She’s getting older, which makes me feel ancient,” Hudson says.
“You are ancient, Huddy. Second oldest on the team, right?” I yelp when he throws a stack of napkins at me. “You’re killing the environment! Think of the turtles!”
“How about we talk about killing the vibe.” Riley looks around the living room. “Your apartment could use some love, G. Do you want the name of an interior designer?”
I survey the space, wondering how it looks through my teammates’ eyes. My entry-level contract earnings are on the lower end compared to other guys in the league, and with only one brand deal so far, I’m not earning the massive paycheck people think I am.
High six-figures isn’t anything to complain about. I know how privileged I am to get paid to shoot a puck when other folks are struggling to afford groceries, but it’s a far cry from what the rest of the guys are pulling in.
If I play hard this year, there could be a big payday in my future. A lucrative contract, bonuses for banking a certain number of points or making an All-Star or Olympic team. The potential is there.
It’s up to me to make it happen.
From the moment I was drafted, I knew I would have to work harder than everyone else if I wanted to carve out a permanent spot for myself on a roster.
I’m not elite like Maverick, Hudson, or Riley.
I’m fighting for my position every time I take the ice, and tomorrow, someone better than me could come along.
It’s why I don’t buy anything too expensive. I’m afraid if I do, the universe will snatch everything away from me. I’m happy with my Ikea bookshelves that house our book club picks and the couch I found at a thrift store with Hannah.
Modest with three bedrooms and two bathrooms, my place serves its purpose well. One day I’ll decorate with a big table where all the guys can come over and hang out, but for now, it’s more than fine.
“I’m all set.” I smile and exit out of our Halo matchup. “If I want some walls painted, I’ll hire Easy E. He needs something to do to keep himself out of trouble.”
“What fun is that?” Ethan asks. “Speaking of trouble, I need to get going. I have a livestream later, and I have to look good for my fans.”
“Hang on. What’s a livestream?” Hudson asks.
“It’s this new thing I’m trying. People pay to watch me in real time.” Ethan grins. “I can do anything I want, so I talk to the camera. I make the viewers feel special. It’s intimate, you know? My followers love it.”
“No, I don’t know.” Connor finishes his beer and sets it down. “How many people usually watch?”
“Three thousand,” Ethan says casually, and I nearly choke.
“Holy shit,” I say. “Are you serious?”
“Yup.”
“But, like, what do you do?” Riley shoves his glasses up his nose. “You said it’s intimate. Do you strip?”
“Nah. My clothes stay on. It’s all about the teasing,” Ethan tells us. “I wear a motorcycle helmet too. They have no clue who I am.”
“I’m going to puke.” I gag and hit my best friend in the face with a pillow. “If you ever film yourself in my apartment, I will never speak to you again.”
“How do you know I haven’t already?” He laughs when I lob another pillow at him in disgust. The whole place might be contaminated. “Don’t damage my pretty face!”
“On that note, I’m leaving.” Hudson stands. “I need to get home to the dogs.”
“I’ll go with you.” Connor yawns. “I’m meeting with my agent tomorrow about a sponsorship deal, and I don’t want him to think I’m dragging my ass while he’s making me money.”
“Wait for me. I’ll tell you about the best camera angles in case you all want to start filming yourselves.” Ethan pops to his feet. “Thanks for the food, G.”
“You coming, Mitchy?” Hudson asks.
“You all go ahead. I’m going to help Grant clean up,” he says, waving to our friends. “See you tomorrow.”
The door closes, and Riley and I grab the beer bottles and empty pizza boxes we went through. It was fun to hang out before we get back to the grind, and I toss everything in the trash.
“Back to drinking smoothies and hitting my protein goal.” I wash my hands and grab a paper towel. “You didn’t need to stay. That took six seconds.”
“I’m a liar. I have an ulterior motive for sticking around.” He leans against the counter. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course you can.”
“This is awkward.” Riley lets out a nervous laugh and crosses his arms. “I didn’t think this through.”
“Hey.” I hold up my palms. “No judgment.”
“I wanted to ask if you have feelings for anyone who works for the team,” he blurts.
“Someone who works for the team? Do you mean Piper?” I frown, but then understanding dawns. “Oh. Shit. Lexi.”
“You two talked a lot last season, and sometimes you tried to get her attention. If there’s something there, I want to make sure I give you the space to—”
“You’re way too nice, Mitchy.” I laugh. “I had a crush on her for a while, but I don’t anymore. I’m kind of…” I trail off and shake my head. “Never mind. It’s stupid.”
“No way. You don’t get to let me be emotionally vulnerable while you shut down.”
“There’s, ah, someone else.” I rub my hand over my chest. It’s the closest I’ve come to telling any of the guys about Amelia.
“This other person told me I’m just a friend.
There’s zero hope of ever being something more with her, which I totally respect.
But there’s this annoying voice in the back of my head that whispers what if? whenever she’s around.”
Two years of knowing Amelia, and the crush hasn’t just lingered.
It’s become goddamn unavoidable.
My feelings show up when we talk online for an hour or two at a time, but they’re even more obnoxious when we go a week without talking. I find myself wondering what she’s doing. If she’s having a good day and getting enough sleep.
And, fuck.
I miss seeing her in person.
I have a handle on it. I’m not going to do something stupid like stand outside her building with a boombox over my head. I’m keeping my distance and respecting her boundaries, but one thing is true.
Agreeing to be her friend was the dumbest decision of my life.
“Shit, man.” Riley puts a hand on my shoulder. “That’s hard.”
“I’m stupid, I guess. A hopeless optimist.” I shrug. “So, no. I don’t have any feelings for Lexi, and that’s a promise on the bro code. You should go for it, man.”
“I’m glad I asked. Thanks for letting me know.” His smile is brighter. “And I’m not going for anything. That woman is so far out of my league. I’d rather suffer in silence than make a fool of myself by even attempting to ask her out.”
“Women. The superior species by a mile.”
He helps me toss a few more pieces of trash then leaves with the promise of seeing me bright and early for our first day back on the ice.
I lock up behind him and head for my room, lying on my bed and pulling up Instagram.
Thinking about Amelia has me wanting to check in with her.
The last time we talked was a quick conversation on her birthday almost a month ago.
I tap my thumbs against the edges of my phone, trying to come up with a good opening line.
@GrantEverett
How do coaches get ready for training camp? Do you sit in meetings all day planning how to make our lives miserable?
That was… atrocious. I wince at the delivered message and throw my arm over my face.
I don’t want to flirt with her—I mean, I do, but I don’t—but I could have gone with something better than a work question.
How’s your night?
What’s your favorite food?
Did you know my teammate has a thirst trap account?
Those are all better than what I picked, but I don’t have time to stew over my misgivings for long. My phone vibrates with a notification, and I grin when I see a response from her.
@AmeliaGreen
Good evening to you too. And, yeah. Lots of meetings. Going over lines and what opponents we think will be the toughest matchups. Planning the most sickening workouts.
We make a bet on how many players will puke the first day.
Why so curious? Looking to apply to an open position?
I sit up, and my fingers fly across the screen.
@GrantEverett
No way. I spent tonight playing video games. I’m not sure I’m fit to coach anyone.
Well, besides the camp the Stars put on for kids in the summer. But I can barely control that chaos!
@AmeliaGreen
What kind of video games?
@GrantEverett
Are you familiar with Halo?
@AmeliaGreen
Only because my nephew likes to play it. I’m more of a Mario Party fan.
I wish there was a way I could keep track of all her favorite things in case they come up in conversation again. Doubtful, sure, but I’d like to be prepared.
Struck with an idea, I walk to my desk. I yank open a drawer and sift through a phone charger and a checkbook I’ve never used. My fingers brush against a leather notebook, and I pull it out from under a pile of stamps.
Coach gave it to us last season in an attempt to get us started on goal setting. I didn’t take the task seriously, apparently, because as I flip through it, I find the pages empty.
Compact enough to fit in my pocket but big enough so I don’t have to shrink my handwriting down, I grab something to write with—not questioning why I have a purple gel pen in my possession—and settle against my pillows.
On the inside cover, I doodle a small A in the left corner with the number 1 marked in the bottom right. Flipping over to the first page, I start to write.
Coffee order: cream w/ 2 sugars
Likes croissants (but will share)
Meatball sub w/ extra parmesan from Pete’s Café
Birthday: August 27
Favorite color: red? (tbd—wears a lot of it at games)
Mario Party over Halo (would probably kick my ass)
I rack my brain for what else she’s told me in passing, adding more.
Nephew (age?)
Wisconsin (Family)
Sweet tea, light ice
White wine
Chocolate cake with buttercream frosting
When I finish, I smile at the half-full page. I set the notebook down and grab my phone again.
@GrantEverett
Night, Amelia. See you in November.
@AmeliaGreen
Good night, Grant.
There’s ink on my knuckles that probably won’t come off for days, but I don’t care. If the only thing I can be is Amelia’s friend, I’m going to be the best fucking friend in the world.