Chapter 21
jordan
After our on-ice celebration, my teammates and I strut down the tunnel with shouts of ‘let’s fucking go’ on the way to the locker room.
I hand my gloves to the equipment manager and start to peel off my layers of clothing at my locker stall.
As I toss my jersey into a giant blue bin, I glance at the white board in the front of the room, smothering my disappointment.
Fuck.
Seeing my number on the media list is no surprise. We won. We clinched the division. I had great hits and played a fantastic game. And they won’t give a damn about any of that. They never do. My heart sinks—as usual, this has nothing to do with my game.
They swarm Zack first, like wasps buzzing in his ear. He skillfully answers questions about the win and how we clinched the playoffs.
I continue to disrobe, removing my pads and my T-shirt, trying to cool off after the fury of the third period.
As I hang everything on the hook, I hear their questions shift to grilling him about what he knows about my new girlfriend.
A sour feeling settles in my stomach like a glass of spoiled milk.
As much as I don’t mind being the center of attention, I don’t want anyone else to bear the burden of my latest drama.
My teammates are used to it, but for fucks sake, we just clinched a playoff spot—literally minutes ago.
I flop in my stall and take my skates off, my fingers tangling in the laces. Can we not fucking talk about the win?
“I’m not here to comment on anything other than the game.
We’re excited to clinch this early, and we’re going to keep working toward improving our record to get the best seed possible,” Zack responds like the class act he is.
I hear the annoyance in their voices as they thank him for his time, dismissing him as professionally as possible.
They are no longer interested in him, not really, eagerly beelining in my direction.
Anyone else might be unprepared. But me? I’m always ready.
I grind my teeth. Welcome to the show, motherfuckers.
“Jordan! Great game. Can you verify the rumors that you’re dating Kennedy Kramer? She’s the team pilot; isn’t that against the rules?”
I smirk. Fuckin’ Gene. This guy is the worst. He thinks he’s the goddamn Willy Wonka of media with his questions.
“Wow, Gene. Thanks for mentioning the game at all in that line of questioning. Yes, I did have a fantastic game, thank you very much. Did you see my diving save in the second? Classic Jordan Boucher move! I’m surprised I don’t have my own special trophy for diving saves at this point, to be honest.”
Gene looks at me with a scowl. You’re welcome, fucker.
“Anyway, how are you doing, Gene? Tell me about your love life,” I ask, flashing him a maniacal smile.
“I’m not here to talk about me; we’re here to talk about you. Are you in a relationship with Kennedy Kramer?” he asks, his voice barely audible over the clicking of cameras.
“I’m so glad you asked about how excited I am to be headed to the playoffs! We’ve fought really hard, battled some incredibly tough teams, and it’s exciting as hell to see all our work pay off.”
A collective groan fans through the sea of reporters. “Enough with the deflection, Boucher. Are you going to answer or not?”
God, this is fun.
“Well, Gene, now that we’ve gotten the hockey out of the way, I can confirm I am in a committed relationship with the most beautiful woman on the planet, Kennedy Kramer.”
An audible gasp echoes from every media member in the room. Then the questions pour in ten at a time.
“How long have you been dating? Is she the one?”
“Are you allowed to date the team pilot? Are you officially off the market?”
“Can we get a quote about how serious this is?”
I force my winning Bougie smirk. As always, I’m ready to keep the show going. Only this time, my heart pounds in my throat, in my ears, in my dick, through every part of my body. This time…there’s no acting necessary.
“You want a quote about how serious this is? She’s the woman of my dreams, and I’ve never been more serious about anything, or anyone, in my life outside of hockey.
She’s accomplished in her career. She’s smarter than I am, that’s for damn sure.
She’s amazing at everything she does, and that doesn’t even account for how gorgeous she is.
She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
She’s my whole world, and I’ve never been happier.
So yeah, you could say this is serious.”
My hands shake, a truth that’s been buried so deep, finally finding the light of day. Focus Jordan. I take a deep breath through my nose, my chin in the air to keep the show going for the audience.
“Now, do you have more questions about my game? If not, I think we’re done here. Why don’t you go talk to the man who only let in one goal from forty-one shots tonight? Vladi…you’re up!” I yell across the locker room, hoping to divert their attention elsewhere.
I let out a sigh of relief as they make their way over to our goalie, swallowing down the giant lump in my throat. I gave them a fucking statement, alright. That was the first press statement about my love life that was actually true.
Hopefully, that statement, the actual truth about how I feel about Kennedy, will keep them off my back for a bit. Plus…I need to shower and make a call.
“Hey, JJ! Great game tonight, bud; we’re so proud of you!” my dad says over the phone after the game. The team is packing up and making their way to the bus, but I snuck out for a quick minute to make sure my dad knew what was going on.
“Thanks, Dad. Can’t believe I’m going to the playoffs this year. Two years in the league and I, somehow, am going again. Some guys don’t make it here for years.”
“You really lucked out getting drafted by Milwaukee. You guys have a hell of a team. You could take it all the way this year!”
The corners of my lips tip up. My parents are always my biggest cheerleaders, even if they never fully understood my draw to hockey. “Yeah, well…this is the first step. One game at a time, just like we’ve always said.”
“Exactly. I’m proud of you, son,” he says, his slight pause sitting heavy between us, “but you never call this soon after a game. Everything alright? Is this about what Hannah told me earlier? She filled me in on the situation.”
I bite my lip. I hate having to do this over the phone, but my dad is more than just my dad. He’s my best friend who knows everything about me. And I can’t help but love him for it every day.
“Yeah, it is. With game day prep, I didn’t have a chance to call you, and I figured you had questions, and—”
“JJ, it’s okay. I know your game day routines. It’s been a bit of a crazy day here as well, dealing with all of this. I know you’re probably still processing everything. Listen, bud…it’s going to be okay.”
I run my hands through my freshly washed hair, tugging at the smooth strands.
“Is it though?” I glance around the small janitor’s closet I found, triple-checking no one is around.
“What if I screwed everything up? We can fix a PR crisis. I know that. Hannah is the best, and we’ve been changing the narrative on things for as long as I can remember.
I just…I just never expected this to happen with… ”
“With Kennedy,” my dad finishes the thought for me.
I nod. “Yeah.”
When your dad’s one of the only people you can trust to not leak things to the media, you have no choice but to confess that you like someone to him. It’s honestly been that way most of my life. When there are only two men in the house, you learn to stick together and have each other’s backs.
“How has her reaction to this been?” he asks, the worry in his voice not relieving the ache in my chest.
“Have you ever seen those videos where a cat gets pissed, then hisses and lunges at someone with their claws?”
My dad cackles. “So, it’s going well then?”
“She shoved me against a wall in an elevator, and I genuinely feared for my life,” I recount the incident to him, leaving out the part where I was more turned on than a fully pre-heated oven.
“But, after her initial shock, I think she’s better.
Maybe? Hell, I don’t know. Being anything but friends with women is not my strong suit.
Funny enough, the fake dating was her idea. ”
I close my eyes, my heart twisting in my chest.
“I think she’s embarrassed to be seen with someone who has a reputation like mine, and this makes it seem less grotesque. She’s got her own career, and now she’s tangled up in this mess and…God, I really fucked this up.”
“I will not tell your mother you used that language,” he chides in a jokingly stern tone, “but I see where you’re coming from.
She seems like she’s got a great career and a level head.
When Hannah and I were talking today, we thought this may finally be a way out for you.
A way to get rid of the image we all played into.
A way to finally show the world who you really are and all the great things you’ve accomplished.
” My eyes burn, the weight that’s been so heavy on my shoulders for so long loosening just enough I can breathe.
“Let me ask you something. Why did you go up to her at that bar? What gave you all this confidence after being afraid to talk to her for so long?”
I shrug. “I saw that guy hitting on her, and I could tell she wasn’t into it. She looked like she was in trouble, and I wanted to help her. No one should ever be put in that situation.”
My dad hums in agreement. “Then you keep showing her that, JJ. You have such a good heart—don’t ever forget that. If I were a betting man, I’d think if she starts to see who you really are, she’ll see that heart of yours too.”
“I hope so. I just…I don’t know how to get over this fear of talking to her. Or opening up to any woman again. I can’t even speak to her without getting all tongue-tied and sweaty. Got any great words of wisdom for that?”
“Think about your pre-game nerves. A little nervousness gets your adrenaline going, so just take a deep breath and be confident. Play your game and don’t be anything but yourself. That’s all you can do. If she’s the right person, she’ll appreciate it.”
My jaw falls. “Wow, Dad. That’s deep. You sound like Vladi,” I say, wondering where all these people get this advice and why my dumb ass can’t just follow it. “Okay, I gotta hop on the bus to the airport. Thanks for the help.”
“Anytime, son. You know I’m always here if you need me. And like I said…look at this as a way to get out of where you’ve been. Love you, bud.”
“Love you too, Dad.”
Ending the call, I tap my phone against my lips.
God, I lucked out with the most amazing parents.
My mom and dad have been supportive of me my entire life.
Never pressured me to do anything I didn’t want to.
Never held unrealistic expectations of me.
Even when everything came out about my past relationship and we all decided to lean into me being a playboy, they always said it was my decision.
I walk out of the closet, seeing a group of Rider’s interns and staff walking by, a few of them looking this way as the door clicks behind me.
I suck in a sharp breath. Did any of them hear me?
Shaking it off, I make my way through the arena to the bus, thinking about how they’ve had one of those perfect marriages people dream of.
Always so happy together, even with four kids, including a little shit like me, wreaking havoc in the house.
I asked my dad, once, how they dealt with all of us, and he said it was both the greatest irritant and the most fulfilling joy they ever had.
After we’d all gone to bed, they would laugh, give each other shit about how they could have handled things better, and simply vent about all the trouble we’d gotten up to with one another.
Fuck, if I don’t want that for myself too.
The hollow pull tightens again, right in my fucking ribcage, like it does every goddamn day.
I should be a typical twenty-something out partying and living it up, and I certainly go out and hang with my teammates as much as I can and have a great time, but I would give that up in an instant to have something special like my parents.
Something real. The kids. The chaos. A woman by my side, giving me shit and living a crazy, perfect life with me.
More specifically, the one I’m currently fake dating.
I shake my head as I climb up the stairs onto the bus and find my seat.
Right now, she sees me as a reckless twenty-three-year-old partying my life away and sleeping my way around town.
My stomach twists tighter than my freshly taped stick.
I have to find a way to help her see past that.
I wish I could change things. I wish I could take away the self-doubt, the fear, that I’ll get hurt again.
But just like being down at intermission, the only way to win is to view this as a clean start.
To focus on the future. And focus on how to make Kennedy see what’s underneath this mask I’ve been wearing.
Time to start showing her the real Jordan Boucher.