Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
cameron
Another slapshot whistles past my left ear and rattles the glass behind me. Every sound is amplified as I focus all my attention on what I’m doing.
“Try aiming for the net next time,” Cole shouts from the neutral zone.
“Never let them know your next move, Captain,” Logan yells as he skates past. “Gotta keep Davies on his toes.”
Jake groans, shaking his head. “Your next move should always be the goal, dumbass.”
Logan tosses me a wink, then skates past Jake, tapping his stick against his butt. “Should it, though?”
The guy is half man, half mascot, full-time shit-talker. It doesn’t matter if the shot makes it or not. Or if he’s even making sense.
“Ignore him,” I advise.
“Impossible.” Logan tosses his head back and laughs like a Disney villain, the sound echoing in the cavernous space. “I’m too good-looking to ignore.”
Coach blows his whistle, two short bursts that bounce around the arena, signaling us to restart the drill.
I tap my posts and reset my stance as the forwards regroup at center ice.
It’s a three-on-two rush, but I read it before they cross the blue line—Jake’s going to fake high, slide it low, hoping I bite. He charges forward, focus locked on my glove like it owes him money, but I clamp down hard, my blocker eating his shot like breakfast.
He frowns as he skates around.
I can’t help but laugh. “Not today, fucker.”
We continue with drills for the next thirty minutes.
Like always, I slip into a state of total concentration, a moving meditation where the crease becomes my entire universe.
The world fades. Even Logan’s chirping becomes background static.
There’s a solitude to goaltending that exists nowhere else.
I’m the last line of defense, the guy everyone loves when I’m dialed in and the guy they quietly judge when I’m not.
I have to be calm in the chaos, tracking the puck like prey and calculating angles faster than conscious thought allows.
It’s relentless and unforgiving, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Nice stop,” Coach calls out. It’s not praise exactly. More like acknowledgment.
“Thanks,” I yell back, keeping my eyes on Cole.
He’s pissed that he hasn’t scored yet and will use any shift in my focus to his advantage.
Though that’s not the only reason I focus on him.
I do it because I can’t look at Coach Henderson.
If I do, I’ll see her. Gigi’s standing along the plexiglass doing who knows what.
She doesn’t hold a position in the organization—and trust me, her grandpa’s tried—so she has no reason to be at a practice.
Yet here she is, laughing and smiling like she owns the place, which, annoyingly, she does. Well, her family, at least.
Hockey has always been my respite. It’s the one place I don’t have to wear a mask. No pretense, no carefully chosen words. Just me and the ice. But her presence changes that.
I’m dripping sweat under my gear by the time Coach ends practice an hour later.
While he hasn’t outright confirmed he’s retiring at the end of the season, the writing is on the wall, and I have no doubt that he’s putting us through extra strenuous practices so he can leave on the high of another Stanley Cup win.
The locker room fills with the familiar hum of towels hitting benches and chatter, the air scented with sweat and menthol rubbing cream.
When the reporters file in, they go to their usual suspects.
The guys who will happily answer their questions and joke around, giving them clickbait for their articles.
I’m not one of those guys. I’m our starting goalie, so I can’t avoid them, but I keep it brief and to the point, and the journalists know they won’t get much else unless it’s after a game.
I prefer to pretend I’m invisible after practice and today is no exception.
I’m feet from the door, so close to making it out of the building unbothered, when Gigi appears out of nowhere, blocking my exit.
Apparently, she thinks my message to “stay away from me” really meant “corner me for a chat.”
“Hey, do you have a quick second?” she asks with a smile. It’s the one I used to mistake for affection. Now I know it’s practiced charm.
I value my job too much to flip her off in response, so I keep it professional and crack my jaw like a boxer before a fight. “What’s up?”
She rests her manicured hand on my forearm, and I jerk back like her touch will burn me. Dramatic? Maybe, but it’s my natural response.
She ignores the reaction, eyeing my nearby teammates. “In private?”
Fighting the urge to roll my eyes, I stalk a few feet away from the guys. When they watch me, expressions pained, I give them a brief nod. I can survive a conversation on my own. Hopefully.
Once they’re out of earshot, Gigi steps in close, her voice quiet. “I don’t want things to be weird between us.”
My hands clench by my sides, my jaw tightening further. “You really think cornering me after practice is the right way to go about not making things weird?”
“It’s not like you’ve given me any other chance to talk.”
Fair point, though I’d argue she lost the right to my time when she fucked my teammate behind my back. I let the silence hang for a moment intentionally, then say, “Things aren’t weird.”
She matches my bullshit look with one of her own. “Yes, they are. And your friends are making it worse. I tried saying hi to Logan earlier, and he pretended he had a sore throat and couldn’t answer.”
By some miracle, I keep a straight face. “Maybe he’s coming down with a virus.”
“He couldn’t have developed a cold in the five seconds between his conversation with your athletic trainer and my greeting.”
I open my mouth, but no words come out. I can’t defend Logan’s actions. It’s obvious he’s punishing Gigi on my behalf, not that I’ve ever asked him to. Sighing, I lower my head and massage the back of my neck. “I’ll talk to him.”
The corner of her mouth kicks up like I just confessed that I’m still in love with her. “Thanks, I appreciate it, but I don’t think that’ll solve what’s going on between us.”
“There’s nothing going on between us. There is no us.” The words taste bitter and I hate how childish I sound, but she brings out the worst in me. “There hasn’t been for a while now.”
“I know, but if I’m back in town and going to be around—”
“That’s the thing, Gigi. I don’t know why you’re here, and quite frankly, I don’t care.
” I stare at her, clear-eyed but callous.
“There’s nothing to say or catch up on. I’ll keep things civil because I don’t want to jeopardize my position on the team.
Logan will, too. But don’t expect me to pretend we have any type of relationship outside of our connections to the Bobcats. We don’t.”
“That’s why I’m trying to fix things. I—”
Coach Henderson walks out of the locker room, his presence causing Gigi to clamp her mouth shut.
Thank God. Not even her nepo status will win her Coach’s approval, and I can’t imagine he’s happy about her impromptu visit.
Her attention lingers on me for a beat longer before she says, “We’ll talk later” and struts in the other direction.
The farther she gets, the more the tightness in my chest eases. But I don’t move until she’s out of sight. Once she’s gone, I trudge over to my friends and drop into one of the chairs in the lobby.
They stare at me with varying degrees of worry, as if one wrong word will turn me into the Hulk.
“I’m not playing nice with her,” Logan finally declares, breaking the ice. “And considering she makes me sick to my stomach, she shouldn’t think it’s unlikely that I have a sore throat whenever she’s around.”
I snort. Why am I not surprised that he heard our conversation? The man loves gossip.
“Your contract may not specify that you’re required to be nice to the owner’s granddaughter,” Cole says with a sigh, “but stonewalling her won’t do you or Cameron any good, man.”
I don’t bother adding to the conversation. Logan’s going to do what he wants to do, regardless of what any of us say about it.
“How do you plan on handling that?” Jake inquires, lifting a brow.
I shrug, avoiding eye contact like he’s Medusa. “Nothing to handle, man.”
“She’s not going to stop cornering you, Davies,” he presses. “You should stop it before it even starts.”
Cole runs a hand through his hair. “Agreed. You need to put yourself out there again.”
Logan gasps and clutches his chest like he’s been shot. Then he smacks Cole. “You think he should put himself out there with Gigi the Gaslighter? The woman who broke his heart into a million pieces? Who shattered it so completely it can never be put back together again?”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter.
Cole turns to Logan, who immediately crosses his arms over his chest in an X. Rather than berate him for his dramatic outburst, Cole frowns. “What the hell are you doing? I wasn’t going to hit you.”
Logan doesn’t lower his arms. “I thought you were going to titty-twist me.”
Jake, who’s got a plastic bottle tipped to his lips, sprays the water like a geyser.
I bury my head in my hands, body shaking with laughter. I mean, what else can I do with an answer like that?
“Why would I want to do that?” Cole’s lips twist in confusion and horror. “Why would that even be an option?”
Logan fixes his blue gaze on me, suddenly serious. “You definitely shouldn’t put yourself back out there with Gigi.”
“I meant with other women, dumbass,” Cole mutters. “It’s been two years and—”
“And I’m fine.” I cut him off, adjusting the shoulder strap of my bag. “Drop it.”
“You’re not fine. You’re—”
“What? I’m what?” Hackles rising, I face him head-on.
He only searches my face. For what, I don’t know.
“I’m focused on hockey,” I tell him. “I’m having a great start to the season. I’m not causing problems or drama. What exactly is the issue here? I’m good, Cole. I don’t need you trying to fix me.”
He holds up his hands in surrender. “All right, man. Just think about it. That’s all I’m saying.” Despite the way he shuts down the conversation, knowing him, it’s far from over.
Logan finally drops his defensive stance, his shoulders lowering. “I don’t want to pick sides or anything, but I’m with Cole on this one.”
We all shoot him matching looks of disdain. Logan starts fights simply so he can choose a side.
He ignores the other guys, eyes never leaving mine. “You need to get back on the market, Davies.”
Still wiping water from his chest, Jake adds, “Agreed.”
“Well, if the council’s decided…” I mumble, standing and turning away from them.
The last time these three idiots ganged up on me like this, I nearly ended up with a tattoo of a majestic eagle—that looked more like a drunk pigeon—on my left ass cheek.
“Hey,” Cole says, his tone soft.
With a sigh, I turn back toward him. “What?”
“Would it really be so bad to find your person?” he asks, hearts practically etched into his irises.
Jake groans, saving me from having to do it. Maya’s great, but I swear Cole and his dog Goose would crawl into her skin if they could. They’re like an obsessive fan cult.
“Dude,” Jake spits out. “Don’t say shit like that. You sound like my mom.”
Cole shrugs. “Your mom found her person, too, so clearly we know what we’re talking about.”
“Want to know how many times my dad’s claimed he found ‘the one’?” Jake shoots back, folding his arms across his chest. He’s normally unshakable, but if there’s one topic that rattles him, it’s his dad.
Cole scratches his chin, compassion and caution in his expression. “You were the one who encouraged me to pursue Maya, and now she’s my future wife.”
This time rather than smacking Cole, Logan punches him in the arm. “Did you fucking look at rings and not tell me? I told you not to do that without me. You have no taste and no eye for that kind of stuff. You’d end up spending a hundred grand on a cubic zirconia and you wouldn’t even know it. I—”
“Calm down.” Cole throws up his hands. “I just got Maya to agree to move in with me. Engagement isn’t happening anytime soon, bud,” he assures him. “Doesn’t mean I don’t know I’m going to marry her, though.”
“Oh.”
Before they can join forces against me, I stupidly announce, “I’m going on a date this Friday, so you can all calm down.”
By the pure shock written on my friend’s faces, I may as well have declared that I’m a vampire. Nobody blinks or breathes. They stand like that for several seconds, the only sound the Zamboni out on the ice.
“With Kennedy,” I add. Shit. It’s possible this information will put them into an even more elevated state of catatonic shock. “It’s the charity date she won. The one at the Copper Lantern?”
Logan springs into action, hopping from foot to foot like a bulky, blond leprechaun. “I knew it! I knew you’d go on the date. You stared at her butt all night long. Her butt may not be as good as mine, but as far as female butts go, it’s like an 8.83.”
Jake shakes his head, as if clearing away the cobwebs of confusion. “Wow. I didn’t think you’d actually go. Are you into her?”
“Why do you care?” I snarl. “Are you into her?”
The second the words are out, I jerk back, surprised by my accusation. The defensiveness came out of nowhere, sharp and possessive. The way my jaw clenches and my vision goes red doesn’t make sense. Hell, I only agreed to the date to get Sloane off my back after she kept hounding me.
Jake holds up his hands, examining me like I’m a threat and he might have to run to save himself. “Kennedy’s hot, but you know where I stand on relationships. And Maya would gut me if I hit it and quit it with her bestie.”
I sit back in my seat, forcing my shoulders down. “Maya wouldn’t have to. Kennedy would do it herself.”
Cole barks out a laugh, the sound cutting through the tension. As scathing as his sarcastic and not easily impressed girlfriend can be, she’s not a fighter. But her best friend is. She may be short, but she’s scrappy, and she doesn’t back down from anything or anyone.
Since Maya started dating Cole, Kennedy’s been a constant at postgame O’Leary’s hangouts.
I witnessed her going toe to toe with a guy over whether cereal is a soup.
She had three other people involved within minutes, all taking sides.
She’s got opinions on everything and isn’t afraid to share them. Loudly and with hand gestures.
She’s also got these eyes that I swear see straight through the bullshit a person is trying to sell.
There’s no performance with her. No walking on eggshells.
She’s warm in a way I forgot people could be.
Yeah, she’s sarcastic and stubborn and a little chaotic, but she’s genuine.
She makes me think about things I’ve spent years ignoring.
Which is exactly why I avoid her like the plague.
Except now I’m going on a date with her.
Tomorrow.
Fuck.