Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Along with our surroundings, time freezes as Junie’s lips press against mine. I’m out of my gear and took a cool shower, but I’m instantly burning up. My breath falters and then races as if I were dropped back into the game.
Her hands grasp my jaw and mine cradle hers. I want nothing more than for this to continue, but she soon pulls away.
I’m afraid that I’ll see regret when our gazes meet, but Junie’s butterscotch brown eyes are heavy and her lips bee stung as they tease a smile.
Who’d have thought all it would take is to get Junie in my jersey at a hockey game for her to realize she still has feelings for me?
Given the loud and crowded room, I don’t know who sees us, but I don’t care.
Junie gestures to the half-filled paper plate that she picks up from a nearby table. “I should bring this to my mom.”
“Thank her for twisting your arm to come out.”
“You can thank her yourself,” she replies as sassy as ever. But the glimmer in her eyes tells me that the kiss was as good for her as it was for me.
I lean in and whisper, “Even better than scoring and winning.”
She tilts her head in question as if to challenge my assertion that our kiss trumped the game.
“I said what I said.” Then, with a wink, I turn to Booker, the team staffer, who offers congratulations.
The next thirty minutes are a flurry of accolades, recitations of stats, gameplay critiques from armchair coaches, and still more congratulations.
It’s a whirlwind, but my attention never strays too far from where Junie is in the room. With her mother—also in Knights garb and surprisingly chummy with my mom.
With Margo and Leah—wearing Grimaldi’s jersey. I’ll have to tell Junie to warn Leah about our third-string defenseman. The guy is full of himself and not a team player. I doubt he’ll last long on the Knights, given the family dynamic and camaraderie.
On a related note, I still can’t figure out Coach Badaszek. He didn’t so much as acknowledge me during the debrief, but that’s okay. I don’t need him to inflate my ego or for him to pat me on the head. No, the only thing I want, the only one I want, is in this room, wearing my jersey.
Tony, my brother, claps me on the back. “My man. That was epic.”
My ears turn pink because I’m thinking about kissing Junie and not the game. Time to get my head back on straight.
He lifts his cup in a cheers gesture. “I like the idea of partying before we work. Dad got the permit, so we’re good to go on Monday.”
“Did he tell you about the ceiling?” After Junie left the salon earlier, I called Pop to come down and check it out. He thought it was incredibly odd and brought up the suspicious person who exited through the back door not long ago.
My brother shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Paulie and I are going to head in tomorrow to do a forensic assessment.”
Paulie, almost as tall as me, appears. “But first, we’re going to have some fun.”
Not only do the Knights know how to celebrate, but bring at least two Cruz brothers to an event and it’s bound to be a party. Having played for three other teams, the Knights know how to do it right.
I’m like one of Pop’s bocce balls, bouncing from one conversation to another before I find myself with Vohn Brandt, our assistant coach.
He says, “That was some opener.”
I nod, not wanting to gloat, but unsure what the organization thinks of me, if at all.
“I couldn’t figure out why Badaszek took a chance on you, Cruz. Glad you lived up to the hype.”
I’ll say. Sports media is calling me sensational, a stick sniper, and hockey’s next big thing.
The corner of Vohn’s lip lifts in the closest thing I’ve ever seen on him that approximates a smile.
I’m not sure if that’s an insult or a compliment. The hype? “Just doing my job, sir.”
“Play with that much pepper at each game, continue to work with your teammates,” he slants his eyes in Grimaldi’s direction, then continues, “and I foresee a certain oversized trophy in our future.” Vohn claps me on the shoulder.
For a second, I imagine what a puck must feel like when it gets walloped by a stick.
Both Vohn and Badaszek played in the NHL and must’ve devastated the ice in their day.
And Junie devastates me. Head tipped back in laughter, revealing the smooth length of her throat, I tune my ears to the sound of her laughter.
It doesn’t take me long to find it among the din.
My pulse kicks when I think about us continuing the kiss from earlier, my lips working their way along that soft skin, and feeling the pounding of her heart against my chest.
The comment Pierre made about Badaszek fancying himself a matchmaker floats into my mind. Seems the guy likes for his players to be in committed relationships, but I see a double meaning.
Badaszek matches players he sees who will work well together and who’ll be committed to the enterprise of winning the finals. Just like in personal relationships, it takes communication, patience, cooperation, and at times compromise—same as Mrs. Popovik said during the car ride.
My gaze lands on Junie. I think back to her comment about us not being good for each other. When things got tough, we worked independently instead of together, turning to what was familiar—our respective families instead of to each other.
Who says jocks are dumb? Sports and hockey principles apply to real life, too.
I want that woman in my life more than anything. Not just so I can see her in my jersey or to kiss her. But because we’re right for each other, especially if we realize we’re playing for the same team.
I walk over to where Junie is chatting with Margo and a few of the other wives.
I slide my arm around her shoulders. I half expect her to flip me over her shoulder, martial arts style, and brace me in an arm bar, but she’s deep in conversation with her friend.
It’s as if my arm around her is perfectly normal.
It used to be. I hope she’s not accustomed to some other lug touching her.
Grimaldi slinks closer. Anger rips through me at that thought.
It isn’t until I speak to Margo that she looks up at me. “Mrs. Hammer, you did an outstanding job planning this event. Is your company available this spring?”
Margo laughs. “That depends on whether you guys win the playoffs.”
I smirk. “Oh, we’re going to win. How about next summer?”
“I have some openings. Why? Looking for a summer job?” she jokes.
“More like a lifetime gig. But maybe winter would be best.” I snug Junie closer.
Junie reads my mind and narrows her big brown eyes at me, but her smile widens because, of course, I remembered her favorite season.
I waggle my eyebrows.
Just then, my brothers descend and have the rest of the ladies laughing about puck-ering up.
They’re not flirting, far from it, but the Cruz brothers could take their act on the road.
They enjoy entertaining people—in that regard, I suppose building remodels and contracting is the wrong business, but it pays the bills.
Junie’s cheeks turn pink. Never mind, like, I love that I’m the one who makes her blush. Knowing them as she does, she slips in with an embarrassing story about Paulie’s first date with his now-wife. I live to hear her laugh. To see her smile and feel her body shake with giggles under my arm.
My brothers continue to hold court as various members of the team and their families come and go. All the while, Junie remains by my side.
Ma and Pop say goodnight, but they don’t look tired. They’re night owls and I imagine when I get home, they’ll be playing a game of canasta. Mrs. Popovik is joining them because she says goodbye too.
My brothers must’ve come in a separate car because they stick around a little longer before inviting a few of the other post-win party guests to Spaglietti’s—the local pizza joint for an after-after party.
Junie and I find ourselves alone for the first time since she gave me the game-winning kiss.
“I can walk you home.” The words slip off my lips out of habit because I’d steal whatever time I could with Junie when she and her family would come to our apartment on Henry Street for Easter—an all-out cooking war between the moms even as we celebrated the Resurrection of the Savior.
She bumps me with her elbow. “Do you mean, can you drive me home?”
“Yeah, that.” I was in the zone at the game earlier, but now I’m zoned out on everything except her. She has me in a haze and I like it.
Once we’re in the car, she asks, “Are you tired?”
“More like buzzing. The adrenaline after the game and then a party like that has me wired.” I exit the parking lot for the arena.
We’re soon on Main Street. Cobbiton is a quintessential small town with shops and restaurants lining the two intersecting primary thoroughfares.
Houses and a few newer developments that support families associated with the Knights spread toward the corn fields.
Then there’s the farmland and wooded area where I purchased my and Junie’s dream house.
“Do you like it here?” she asks.
“So far so good. You?”
“Adjusting. What about your parents?”
“This is our third big move, and it’s their favorite by far.”
“It’s good of you to take them with you.”
I grunt. “They said this time they’re staying. Even if I get traded to Timbuktu, they’re not moving again.”
Junie giggles. “What about somewhere warm?” she asks, likely recalling that neither Ma nor Pop enjoys cold weather.
“That’s up for debate, but they love the house.”
“It’s practically my dream house.”
“I know.”
“Papa always wanted to move us out of the city and buy a house.”
“Is that why you moved here?”
“One of the reasons. Also, I was getting burned out at Guys & Dolls and wanted to open my own salon.”
“What are you going to name it?”
“I’m thinking ‘Hair Salon.’” Her tone lacks enthusiasm.
“That’s, um, not very original.”
“If you can name your cat Purr-t Reynolds—”
“Burt,” I correct.
She laughs again. “I can name my shop, ‘Hair Salon.’ That’s what it is, so there won’t be any confusion.”