13. Victoria
VICTORIA
“You really miss it, don’t you?”
I startled and tilted my head up in time for Josh to fall into the seat next to me.
“How did you find me?” I was purposely sitting in the very back row so I wouldn’t draw attention. Since I got to the practice arena early, I decided to watch the women.
He shrugged, keeping his attention on the ice.
I settled back and finally answered his question. “Every single day.”
“I looked up your stats. You were really good.”
I turned to him, “You looked me up?”
“As if you don’t do the same to all of us,” he smirked.
“Because it’s required for my job.”
He peered at me out of the corner of his eye. “Same.”
I shook my head and faced forward.
Something shifted between us last night at dinner, more than the truce we’d silently declared when I apologized.
We parted feeling more like friends.
Well, I don’t generally notice the golden flecks in my friend’s eyes or the way the right side of their mouth tilts higher when they smile.
Or how nice he smelled this close up.
Focus, Victoria. Just because he was being nice to you now didn’t mean you get to go and turn into a fangirl.
I am a professional.
When there are cameras or recorders around.
But it was just the two of us, hidden in the shadows.
“You would have gone pro.”
I didn’t reply.
“You would have been down there.”
As if I hadn’t thought that a thousand times.
“I know,” I finally admitted.
He leaned his elbow on the rest, away from me. “ACL tears are no joke.”
I reached out and rubbed my left knee out of habit. It still ached from time to time. “No, they are not.”
“Does journalism satisfy the craving?”
I glanced at him, but he was looking down at the moving figures.
“Craving?”
He nodded. “The absolutely consuming need to compete?”
I slowly let out a breath. I knew exactly what he was talking about and shouldn’t have been surprised he asked. Most, if not all, of the players I interview have that same hunger. It's essential to reaching a high level, like college or the pros.
“Not really,” I finally admitted.
“But you thought it would?”
“I hoped.” I didn’t talk about this with anyone. Not my family or friends, even though a lot of them would understand since most of them were athletes at some point. “I wanted, or needed rather, to stay close.”
“It’s either that or run in the opposite direction.”
“Sometimes I wonder if that would have been easier.” I couldn't believe I’d admitted that.
“Then facing the constant reminder?”
Part of me appreciated that he didn’t look at me. It added a layer of privacy, of comfort to say these things. But I also wanted to know what he was thinking.
I peeked at him. “Yeah, but hockey is all I’ve ever known. I’m not sure who I would be without it in my life in some way.”
He must have felt me watching because he looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “You didn’t want to try to find out?”
I stared down at my former peers. “No.”
“I wonder what I’ll do.” He paused, and I didn’t feel the urge to fill the silence. “Maybe coach or get a front office job. Something to stay within the sport like you. If it will be too painful, I’ll have to do something completely different and close this chapter of my life.”
“I hope you don’t have to decide for a very long time.”
I caught him turning toward me out of the corner of my eye. “Thank you.”
I quickly met his gaze before looking away.
“What was your least favorite part?” he asked after a moment.
“Of playing?”
“Yeah.”
I considered for a second before huffing a laugh, “Trying to sleep on the bus.”
He groaned. “That is very accurate.”
“What about you?” I wasn’t sure why this conversation started, or if he was here for more than small talk, but if he was going to ask me questions, I would return the favor.
“Off the record?”
I let out a laugh at his teasing smile. “Sure.”
“The offseason.”
I cocked a brow. “What?”
“I don’t like the offseason.”
“Because you’re not playing?”
He lifted a shoulder an inch. “Yeah.”
“But it’s your vacation time. Your only time to relax.”
“Exactly, I’m not very good at that.”
“At doing nothing?”
He nodded. “I love the structure of my days during the season. I know where and what I need to be doing at all times.”
“Then you should join the military after retirement.”
He scoffed. “I don’t think the military wants soldiers prone to breaking into fights or yelling at each other.”
I laughed. “True.”
A whistle blew, ending practice. I waited to see if Josh would move, but he remained still, watching the players head toward the bench.
“Sorry you got taken off covering them.”
The unexpected change of subject made me flinch.
“It sucks.”
I nodded. “It does.”
“And your boss doesn’t want in-depth interviews.”
“Just fluff that generates clicks,” I finished.
He blew out a long breath. “What happens when this is done? Do you get to go back to covering them in the fall, or will Joe?”
I hadn’t considered that. If the sport did grow an audience, would I be taken off it permanently? Replaced with a bigger name?
“I’m not sure,” I shifted a bit. “After this tournament, I have my contract renewal meeting. That’s when I bring all my proof to the table of why I deserve to keep my job, and ask for negotiations.”
“Like more of the women's teams and less of us?”
“Less of anything other than hockey would be ideal,” I admitted. “But yes, preferably a full-time position reporting on them.”
“So you have to do this fluff work in order to get what you want?” he repeated like he was talking through it for himself.
“That’s the hope, but I could go into the meeting and be told they aren’t renewing me at all, or that I’ve been assigned to golf or indoor football.” I nearly shivered at the thought.
“Yikes, it’s like being a pro athlete.”
“Yeah, the very worst part of it,” I agreed.
“I know things started out bumpy for us, but if there’s anything I can do to help, a way to get you more clicks, let me know.” He started to stand. “I’ve got to go warm up for practice.”
I nodded. “Thanks.”
He gave me one more smile before disappearing as quietly as he had come.
“What did they say?” Cambrie asked as soon as we sat down on a bench in the media room.
I looked up from my Caesar wrap. “Who?”
“The social team? Did they like the videos we sent? Do they want more?” she asked before ripping off a corner of her panini and popping it into her mouth.
My shoulders dropped. I hadn’t told her about dinner, so I should have known who she was referring to.
“Oh, yeah. They like the longer lengths they can break into short clips or use the long form for different platforms. So keep that up.”
She nodded and swallowed. “Who else would I have been talking about?”
I shook my head. “Don’t know. You just caught me off guard.”
“Hmm,” she hummed while watching me. “So not half the Utah team?”
I lowered my wrap into the to-go box. “How did you––”
“This city is literally crawling with cameras. Not only professional, but influencers and fans. Of course, they drew attention walking around in a massive group; you were the odd man out that the internet was trying to identify.”
I hadn’t noticed phones or cameras pointed at us. I should have, though. She was right. The city was packed with tourists here for the Fourth of July celebration, plus the tournament. It wasn’t like four hulking men would go unnoticed.
“They cared who I was?”
“Yeah, people recognized Amelia right away but not the other mysterious brunette.”
I scrunched my nose. “I was just listening to you! I went for a walk and ran into them. They invited me to dinner.”
“That’s it?” She searched my face.
“Yes.” It wasn’t a lie. That was all that happened. Last night.
“You’re not telling me everything.”
That was correct. She had me, and we both knew it. Before this assignment, Cambrie and I had been friendly, but not necessarily friends. I wasn’t sure how much I should, or could, tell her. I’d been burned before by trusting the wrong colleague.
Plus, Josh and I had only talked. In public. It wasn’t like we’d done anything wrong or salacious.
I also really wanted to talk about it with someone. Was it as weird as I was making it out to be? Did he simply forgive me and had extended an olive branch? Could his spotting me, coming up to me, and sitting with me mean something more?
“Off the record,” she finally broke my awkward silence. “I promise nothing you say will be repeated.”
I quirked my lips. "Written or verbal.”
She grinned. “No hand signals or miming either.”
I sighed. “Okay, things last night were fine. I know those guys pretty well, so it was fun to catch up, and since Josh doesn’t hate me anymore, he opened up too.”
She bit her bottom lip as her smile grew. “And?”
“And this morning I was watching the women’s practice, and he came and sat down next to me.”
“And?” she repeated, leaning in.
“And we just talked. He asked me about playing and the injury that changed my career path.”
“So work talk?” She seemed disappointed as she went back to her sandwich.
“Yeah.” Now that she said it like that, it was a rather professional conversation. An interview where we both offered a look behind our walls, but stayed within the safety of hockey.
Maybe it hadn’t meant anything after all.
“Well, I’m glad he doesn’t hate you anymore,” she said after another bite.
“Yeah, me too.”
“So last night, my friend and I went to this heavenly French spot. I didn’t even know something so good could exist––”
She went on about how great the food was, while I tried to dismantle the hope one stupid conversation caused.
Hope of what?
We lived on opposite sides of the country. Our jobs kept us incredibly busy, with little to no flexibility. We didn’t even have a say in where or when we were. The only difference was that his schedule was set every summer for the next season, and I had very little notice day by day.
Sure, he was incredibly handsome, and I felt. . . special that he sought me out and talked with me. He was on the quiet side, even with his friends, but he chose to come to me.
That didn’t necessarily mean anything other than he saw me and had time to burn before practice.
“So I agreed to meet up again before we leave,” Cambrie finished.
“That’s great.” I smiled and hoped it was the right response.
“You guys have to see this!” Scott from In The Net called to the room before turning and running out toward the rink.
We stood and hurried out with the mass of other reporters. I stopped against the glass of the press box and covered my mouth before I let a burst of laughter slip out.
Most of the Stars players were on the ice, warming up before practice officially started, which wasn’t unusual at all.
What stood out was Hartman still in his warm-up sweats running around.
Running because he was only wearing socks. Slipping and sliding on the ice as he chased a bundle his teammates were passing between them, dodging him.
“What’s going on?” Cambrie asked at my side.
“I’m guessing that,” I pointed to the white, messily wrapped package, “is his skates.”
Laughter erupted around us as it became clear I was correct.
“Oh, no,” someone groaned as Hartman dove but missed as Erik slapped the bundle away.
“I’m going down there,” Cambrie whispered while everyone else watched.
I nodded, not waiting to draw attention. No one else had their phones or cameras out, and if we got exclusive footage of this, we’d be set for the day.
Hartman’s yells reached us, but I couldn’t make out his words, only his frustration.
Josh was stretching in front of the net, watching but not engaging. Probably enjoying the show as much as we were.
“Who do you think did it?” someone asked.
“Probably Taz,” a male voice answered. “He’s been pranking Tyson, but looks like he’s expanded to the alternate captains now.”
I laughed and internally cheered when I spotted Cambrie at the top of the stairs, filming.
Hartman didn’t get his skates until the coaches arrived, and Badaszek told them to pass them back. Hartman, normally so calm and unfazed, looked irate, and I couldn’t wait to see how he got his payback during practice.
As a group, we wandered back to the media room, where a couple of people began recording videos, rehashing what we had just watched. I grabbed my phone and laptop before rushing out to find Cambrie.
She was beaming when I sat next to her, watching the small screen of her camera playing back the antic.
“We need to upload it now,” I told her, opening my laptop. “No one else recorded it.”
“Amazing.” She pulled out the memory card, and I slid it in. I sent the file to the social media team without watching it, then sent them a text to get it out immediately.
As soon as I pushed the screen down, she did a little excited dance. “That was so funny.”
“Pranks and hockey go hand in hand.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, between teammates and opposing teams. There have been prank battles that last years, through trades and retirements.”
She laughed. “I had no idea.”
“There have been a few epic pranksters over the years.”