Chapter 4
Chapter Four
NATHAN
Of course I see her.
When an attractive woman stares at you so intensely, so… achingly…
Maybe ‘achingly’ isn’t the right word. Her expression is hard for me to pinpoint. It feels like she knows me.
But the look flashes only for a moment.
Without warning, the woman spins like a goalie after a runaway puck and flees into the crowd. I take a step forward and then I stop.
Why would I follow her?
She’s clearly terrified of me.
Maybe I accidentally bumped into her in a crowded elevator and she never forgave me?
Maybe I look like an old boyfriend who did her wrong?
Maybe my face is just ugly?
Well, not that last one.
I’ve had enough social media thirst traps and flirtatious DMs to know that—even with my hair shaved—I’m not half bad to look at.
Maybe she’s a disappointed fan? At the start of my recovery, my most loyal fans were holding prayer vigils outside the hospital. But when it became clear that I was not getting back into my team or any other league team for the foreseeable future, most of my fanbase fizzled out.
Heck, even my own girlfriend…
I flex my jaw. I do not want to think about that right now.
“Campbell!”
I hear my name above the noise of the crowd and spin to find Chance McLanely and Gunner Kinsey approaching me. A wide, excited grin spreads on my face.
I’ve spent the last two weeks training with McLanely and today, I spent hours handing out brochures with him.
Maybe one day I’ll stop getting starstruck.
But today is not that day.
Chance sees me grinning like a kid and just shakes his head, already used to the hero worship.
I’m not the only one who’s still treating him like the legend that he is.
Half the guys who signed up for the training camp in this little-known town with this little-known team did so to be in proximity to McLanely.
It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity just to share the ice with him.
“McLanely. Kinsey.” I nod at the hockey legend first and then dip my chin at Kinsey, who’s been a quiet presence at training.
Unlike McLanely, who’s often bombarded with trainees on the ice and holds court on the benches, fielding questions from rookies who can only dream of the success he found—Kinsey keeps to himself unless Renthrow or Chance pull him into conversation.
Kinsey also scowls a lot.
Which is why the soft, affectionate smiles he’s been shooting at the blonde bombshell hanging from his arm takes me by surprise. While working in the booth together, I saw a very different side of Kinsey than I do at training.
“Thanks for your help today, Nathan.” Rebel, Kinsey’s girlfriend, smiles at me. It’s so dazzling that I look away out of sheer respect.
“No problem.”
“We were heading to the food stalls for some pizza. You should join us,” Rebel says, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder.
“Sounds great, but I was about to head home.”
“You must be tired.” April, Chance’s girlfriend, shoots McLanely a look. “I’ve heard how grueling the training camp is. I hope you came out today because you had the time and not because anyone pressured you or used their authority on the team to get you here.”
McLanely looks affronted and whines, “Tink, I’m innocent.”
I smirk. “It was my idea to come.” Although my plan to get a read on Max failed spectacularly. The team manager spent most of his time driving with April’s sister, May, to get supplies. “I didn’t have much on my schedule anyway.”
April smiles and her eyes sparkle in the waning sunlight. While the blonde lady is taller and reminds me of the models I met while shooting sponsorship deals, Chance’s girlfriend has a quiet type of beauty that’s just as breathtaking.
Rebel glances down at her cell phone and frowns. “Riley isn’t answering her texts. How are we supposed to find her in this crowd?”
When I hear ‘Riley’, my ears perk up. The name is pretty common, so I don’t assume that it’s Chris’s little sister. The last I heard, the little munchkin was halfway across the country fixing planes.
“Let me try calling her,” April says.
“You ready for the rollouts next week?” Chance asks me while his girlfriend steps away.
“Yeah, I’m hoping that I see my name on the list.”
“You’re a skilled player, Campbell. Max would be crazy to let you go this early in the rounds.”
His encouragement should make me feel better, but it only makes me more anxious. I’ve had a long, hard road to recovery.
But the road back to hockey seems twice as long.
April returns to her boyfriend’s side, a worried line in the middle of her forehead. “She’s not answering my calls either.”
Rebel tilts her head to the side. “I texted her to meet us at the food court. If we stay in one place, she’ll hopefully see the text and meet us there.”
“That’s a good plan,” Gunner says, giving his girlfriend an admiring look.
“Well, yeah. It’s me.” Rebel smirks up at him.
“Let’s get some food. I’m starving,” Chance says, offering his hand to April.
April holds on to him and glances at me. “We’ll be at the food court if you change your mind, Nathan. Chance’s treat.”
“Got it,” I say with a wave.
I have no intentions of joining their table and becoming the fifth wheel. Those two, loving couples would make me feel single as a Pringle.
Slipping a hand in my pocket, I join the stream of the crowd and let it carry me along. My aimless steps take me to the game section. Booths decorated with balloons and bright neon lights fill an entire pathway. Giant teddybears sit on prize boxes, waiting to be claimed and taken home.
“I want that one!” A little girl, about five years old, is standing by a booth with an older boy.
“I don’t have that many points, Jojo,” the boy says, looking like he’s reached the last of his patience.
“But I want the big bear,” the little girl protests. Her adorable pout is joined by a firm stomp of her leg.
For some reason, I see my best friend’s little sister in the child’s petulant face. Riley was always begging to tag along with us. And when we gave her the chance, she wasn’t quiet or grateful to be there. Her demanding ways would make a queen blush.
The little brat.
I walk forward, ready to intervene and offer to win the big teddybear on the siblings’ behalf. But the gamekeeper brings a tiny stuffed bear over to the children and the brother gives it to the girl.
“See, Jojo? This is the baby bear. The mama bear wants you to take care of her.”
Jojo’s eyes turn as round as saucers. “Really?”
The brother nods.
The little girl squeals loudly and hugs the baby bear to her chest. “I’ll protect her. I promise.”
As the siblings walk off, I tip my invisible hat to the older brother. Chris wasn’t that good of a sibling back then. Maybe that’s why he and Riley fell out of touch for so many years.
The roar of an engine tugs me out of my thoughts, and I notice an outdoor go-cart race up ahead. It looks exciting so I decide to walk that way.
Children in brightly-painted cars zip by. A few wave at their parents from across the track while others hold the steering wheel for dear life.
As I’m passing the less-crowded area of the track, I notice a woman kneeling next to a go-cart.
She’s wearing a tank top and jeans and her thick, auburn ponytail slides down her shoulder as she reaches for a tool in her tool box.
A flashlight is clutched between her teeth, pointing at the go-cart frame and she fiddles with something on the large engine.
The way she interacts with the cart arrests my attention. I’ve heard this town is full of female mechanics—Rebel and April being two of them, but it’s my first time seeing a female mechanic in action.
“And what’s this?” A little boy about ten years old asks, pointing to the long, silver tool in her hands.
“It’s a spanner,” she grumbles around the flashlight stuck in her mouth. It could just be me, but I get the sense she’s not loving all the questions.
“And what’s this?” This time, he picks up something from her tool box.
The woman spits the flashlight out in horror. “Don’t touch that.”
It’s dark around this area of the track, but I can see the mischief in his eyes from a mile away. “Why not?”
“Give it back,” the woman says sternly as she climbs to her feet. “That tool is dangerous.”
My eyes widen when I see her face.
It’s the woman who keeps staring at me.
“Catch me if you can!” The little boy teases and then he takes off.
“Hey!” The woman launches at him but misses his shirt by a mile.
On instinct, I sprint after the mischievous kid. He’s fast, but he’s small and it doesn’t take me long to grab him. I wrap a hand around his arm before he can scamper into the crowd and disappear.
“Let me go!” The boy protests, squirming and twisting to get away from me. “Get off!”
“Is that yours, kid?” I point to the tool.
“What’s it to you?”
“Stealing is not cool, bro. You and I are going to take it back.”
“I wasn’t stealing. I was just playing around,” he mutters.
“It’s only fun if the other person is laughing and it didn’t seem like she was laughing to me.”
“It’s none of your business, mister.”
“It is now. Take it back to the lady and apologize.”
The kid looks like he’d rather throw himself on the track and take his chances with the go-carts, but I’ve got a good grip on him and there’s no escaping me.
Together we march—well, technically, I march and he’s dragged behind me like a carcass—to the woman with the toolbox.
By this time, the go-cart’s engine is rumbling and someone is helping her heft it on the track.
A little girl in a helmet who was standing on the sidelines shrieks happily and hops into the driver’s side.
The young driver takes off around a curve, nearly crashing into a hay bale and laughing her head off the entire way.
“Ma’am,” I say, calling the auburn-haired woman’s attention.
The woman spins.
Brown eyes latch on me. And then widen.
I imagine that if I looked up the phrase ‘deer in headlights’ online, I’d get this very picture.
Her entire body tightens like a spring and panic fills her green eyes. There might as well be a running neon sign on her forehead, blaring one word.
Run.
Her eyes cast about for an exit route and she leans forward as if her soul is bolting and her body just hasn’t caught up yet.
I clear my throat and push the boy forward. “Before you take off, I think my friend here has something that belongs to you.”