Chapter 12 #3
I glanced at Jagger, who quickly furrowed his brow. We weren’t certain what to expect. Maybe that’s when I noticed Coach Stryker had two jerseys, one slung over each shoulder.
He quickly tossed one to Jagger then the other to me. “Interesting play, gentlemen. I can say it was good to see you finally working together, however avant garde it was. Congratulations. You’ve both stepped up to the plate and are now the official co-captains.”
Our new sweaters signified the promotion, a lovely C on the shoulder. So I was a ham dog, holding the jersey into the air as I did a little hockey dance. While the boys half cheered, half jeered, I didn’t hear anything from Jagger.
When I threw him a look, I noticed his expression was nothing like what I would have expected.
His mind was somewhere far away, and the way he was staring at the emblem wasn’t anything like what I’d expect.
Disappointment or even anger in being forced to share the nod?
Sure. But the look on his face went much deeper than disappointment or rage into something darkly personal.
Well, whatever it was, he could handle it himself. As I’d said before. We weren’t going to be friends.
“Alright, gentlemen,” the coach chimed in. “Get on the ice. With the loss of Darren, we have some work to do.”
Yeah, we did. Where we’d once been cohesive, in missing one of our own, the loss was more like a curse.
Just like the one I’d been carrying around my neck.
* * *
“There’s that reporter I noticed,” Hudson said as we walked from the building after practice.
“Wonder what he wants?” Anthony raked his fingers through his hair as if preparing to preen for the cameras. He was such a ham dog.
We’d had reporters drop by practice before. No big deal.
“Can we get your autograph?” A group of girls was hanging around outside the arena. That didn’t happen with every practice but with the local station highlighting the game a couple of nights before, the Seattle Wild were back in the news.
“All of us?” I asked given I wasn’t alone. I noticed Jagger just getting ready to toss his duffle into his jacked-up sports car, paying way too close attention to what the three of us were doing. While the practice had gone well, I’d felt him seething under his protective layers.
“Just you. The Rebel Wolfman.”
I wasn’t about to correct her as far as my nickname.
“Catch you later, wolfman,” Hudson enunciated, laughing as he walked away.
“Yeah, be careful with all that fresh meat,” Anthony tossed out, laughing his ass off as he strutted across the parking lot.
Since there were ladies present, I refused to toss up my middle finger. “Sure, ladies. Where can I sign?”
While I was busy signing autographs, I noticed the reporter was making his way toward me.
As always, I bristled. Not every question was about hockey or done with full professionalism.
In other words, half only wanted to discuss being a shifter.
And how many people I hunted. A moment of disgust rolled in.
“Cole Kendrick. You kicked some ass today.”
The girls were none too pleased at being interrupted but walked away. “I did alright.”
“Big game in Reno. There are some experts in the industry that think this matchup could be a foretelling about who wins the division.”
“Yeah, so I heard.”
“I’m sorry. I’m Grant Michaels. I work with your sister at the Sentinel. You know, I think I’ve seen every home game for several years. I’ve enjoyed seeing the Kendrick brothers. Just here as a fan on my day off.”
“Thanks.” Samantha would have told me if the dude was a guy to stay away from.
“If you don’t mind me saying, you had a lot of passion out there today, even more than usual. Any special reason?”
“Just feeling good on the ice.” He wasn’t taking notes, but that didn’t mean anything. I knew to be careful about what I said. I’d seen how reporters twisted six coherent words into a scandal.
I checked my watch, reminding myself about the business Dad had asked me to handle.
“How do you handle all the fame and the girls?”
In laughing, I was trying to figure out where this was going. “Hey, I’m blessed to have fans.”
“You’re a bit of a playboy and I don’t blame you. Kind of jealous. Girls are not into reporters.” His laugh was sincere.
“Not really and trust me, you’re not missing anything. Puck bunnies are cool, but they believe the hype, you know? I’m not a hockey great. I’m just a one-woman kind of guy. Anyway, sorry to cut you off, but I should get going. A lot to do before heading out tomorrow.”
Grant nodded. “I get it. My uncle played hockey. He lost his battle to cancer recently. We were close.”
“I’m sorry, man.”
“A few years ago, he told me the moment hockey ceased to be a sport and turned into his passion was when he found the woman he was going to marry.”
“I can see that. Who knows. Maybe that’s what happened with me. There’s nothing like finding a woman who really gets you. Someone you can trust in just being yourself. Take care, Grant. I gotta run. Thanks for stopping by.”
“Anytime.”
As I jogged to my truck, Jagger finally pulled out of the parking lot. Nope. He and I would never be friends.