Chapter 22
Grant
The arena lights are blinding, and there’s a blast of freezing air that makes me turn my head as I step out onto the ice, but there’s comfort in the discomfort.
I feel more at home here in my pads and gear, with thousands of strangers watching and cheering, than I do at the fortified, guarded mansion across town where I sleep every night.
This is where I belong. This is what I’m good at. This is where everything makes sense.
I skate to my net and pretend that I’m not dying for a glimpse of dark blonde hair or listening for April’s enthusiastic cheering above the general noise.
But I’m a shitty liar, even to myself.
I know that if they’re here, they’re sitting in the first row behind the glass, just like always. And just before I give in and take a look, I can feel Heather’s gaze on me.
There’s something warm and familiar about it that’s unique to her and that I can legitimately feel in my gut, down to my core, even though she’s at least fifty feet away from me.
Somehow, I avoid looking, at least for the moment. Knowing she’s here is good enough for now. It’s enough to let me focus on the other things in my life that matter at the moment—the puck, the net, and the game.
I stretch through my pre-game routine and tap my stick against the goal frame.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The ritual helps me as much as anything can, and keeps me from thinking about the conversation in the hallway that’s been replaying in my head for the past two days.
Or the way she looked at me when she said she wanted things to go back to normal, like she was trying to convince herself as much as me.
All those thoughts and vivid memories get pushed aside the moment the game starts. I’m focused and determined, so locked in that my teammates keep telling me I’m like a machine tonight.
That’s what I like to hear. I’m in the zone, and there’s nothing better than being able to tune out everything but the opposing team, the puck, and the six-by-four-foot net that I’m guarding with my life.
I don’t let a single shot get past me during the first or second period. By the third, I’m on fire. Time seems to slow down, and I can read every play as it develops, track every movement on the ice, and anticipate every shot before the stick even makes contact with the puck.
The final buzzer sounds, and we’ve won three to nothing. It’s a shutout. My teammates swarm me, tapping my pads with their sticks and shouting congratulations. Noah pulls me into a quick hug, grinning from ear to ear.
“Fucking amazing, Parker. Best game I’ve seen you play all season.”
Reese skates by and slaps my helmet. “You were a damn wall out there, man. They couldn’t get shit past you.”
“Great work,” Theo calls out as he skates backwards in front of me. “Seriously, that was fucking insane.”
I accept their praise and offer some of my own, even returning a couple of grins along with some high-fives.
This should feel good. This is what it’s all about, and it should be exactly the validation that I need.
I’m still at the top of my game, and this is proof that nothing has changed and that I can still shut everything else out when it matters.
But it all feels hollow tonight. There’s an emptiness in my chest, and this win doesn’t hit the same way it usually does.
I can’t pretend I don’t know why.
Things between Heather and me have gone back to “normal,” just like she wanted.
We’re polite and cordial. We make small talk about April’s day or what groceries we need, but it doesn’t feel normal.
It feels like she’s avoiding me, like there’s an invisible wall between us now that wasn’t there before.
She doesn’t linger in the kitchen when I’m making breakfast, and barely makes eye contact when we pass each other in the hallway. She hasn’t joined me in the sauna since that night I fucked everything up between us.
Normally, that kind of shit wouldn’t bother me. I’m not the type who has ever wanted to get close to people. I’m fine keeping to myself. Hell, I preferred it that way.
My routine, my career—my whole life has been built around maintaining distance, staying focused, and not letting anyone get too close or distract me from what matters.
But now she’s come into my life, and everything is different. My priorities have shifted. And I think that’s why this new “normal” bothers the hell out of me.
I shower and change into some clean clothes, all while trying to figure out what I’m going to say when I see her. By the time I walk into the friends and family lounge and spot her against the back wall with April and Margo, I’m still not sure where I stand with her or how to even bring it up.
This isn’t the right time or place, but nothing else is right lately either.
Heather looks effortlessly lovely in jeans and an Aces jersey that I’m pretty sure came from April’s closet. She manages a smile as I get closer, but I can see how tired she is, just at a glance.
“That was a great game, Grant.” Her tone is nice enough, but there’s a distance that shouldn’t be there. Almost professional, similar to the way Margo congratulates all the players aside from her husband.
“Thanks.” I nod and shove my hands into my pockets to keep from reaching for her. “I’m glad you and April could make it.”
April bounces up between us at the sound of her name. “Are you kidding? We wouldn’t have missed it for the world, would we, Mom? And you were so good out there! You didn’t even let them score once.”
Her energy is infectious, and I wish like hell that Heather and I could borrow just a tiny fraction of it right now. Maybe then, this whole thing wouldn’t be so damned awkward.
“That’s the goal,” I say, offering a grin. Everything else might feel like a fucking train wreck right now, but I can always count on my number one fan to make me crack a smile.
“Hey, Parker!” Reese’s voice cuts across the noise of the room. “We’re heading to The Hideout in a few. Are you coming?”
The Hideout is the team’s normal spot for a post-game celebration, but I’m not really feeling it tonight. Half-bar, half-restaurant, and just a few blocks from the arena, they don’t mind staying open late and partying with us when we feel like getting rowdy.
Before I can answer, I catch April giving Heather the biggest set of puppy dog eyes I’ve ever seen.
“Mom, can we go, too? Please?” She bats her eyelashes shamelessly, but I can tell by Heather’s expression that she’s trying to find a graceful way to say no.
“Sweetheart, I don’t know if tonight is the best time for that. It’s already pretty late.”
“Please, just this once? We can celebrate Grant’s shutout! And we do have to eat something for dinner, don’t we? If we go to The Hideout, you won’t have to cook anything when we get home.”
Damn, the kid is good.
I’m literally watching Heather’s resolve crumble in real time. “Okay, but only for a little while. We’ll eat some dinner and then we’re going straight home for bed.”
“Yes!” April pumps her fist in the air. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“What about you, Parker?” Reese calls out again. “Are you in? Or are you gonna do your usual disappearing act?”
That’s exactly what I was planning to do before Heather and April got involved. I’m not big on the post-game bar scene. It’s too loud, too crowded, and there are too many people who want to talk when all I want is to go home and decompress with my nightly routine.
But the thought of going back to that big, empty house alone while Heather and April go out and have fun with the team is even worse than the prospect of dealing with the noisy crowd.
“Yeah.” I shrug as if it’s no big deal, as if I haven’t been standing here over-analyzing the situation for the past five minutes. “I’ll be there.”
It feels like the whole lounge has gone quiet, and everyone is looking at me. Noah and Theo stop mid-conversation and stare over here with their mouths hanging open.
“Did Parker just say yes to going out?” Sawyer asks, looking around like he’s checking to make sure everyone else heard it too.
Noah cups a hand to his mouth and calls out, “Mark your calendars, boys. Grant Parker is joining us mere mortals for a drink.”
I grunt and head for the door, already regretting my decision. But there’s no way in hell I’m going home alone.
The Hideout is packed, just like it always is after a home game, and the noise level is exactly as overwhelming as I expected. The music is blaring, people are shouting over each other, and the general chaos rockets up several more notches once I walk through the door.
I’m used to getting recognized when I go out in public, especially in Denver, but the place is giving me the full rockstar treatment tonight.
The rookies on the team are eating it up at a table near the entrance, but I’m fighting every single one of my instincts just to push past the throng of people at the front door.
If I didn’t know for sure that Heather and April were already somewhere inside, I’d turn right back around with no questions asked and no fucks given.
I might not want to go home alone, but I’d get over it. We’re all here now, though, and I need a water before I do anything else.
Being tall does have its benefits in a place like this.
I can see that April is with Margo in a booth along the wall, and several of the guys have already claimed tables with their partners.
Reese and Callie are laughing with Declan and Hannah near the back, while Theo and Becca have squeezed into a corner booth with Sawyer and Violet.
Heather is in line at the bar—which, coincidentally, is exactly where I want to be.
She’s still wearing jeans and her Aces jersey, but there’s something different about her that I can’t fully put my finger on until I’m right next to her.