5. Noah
CHAPTER 5
NOAH
With the majority of the team headed out to a VIP party being hosted in town tonight, I see my opportunity to have some quiet time. We may have our own rooms here, but since the day I arrived, we’ve been on the go and you’re hardly ever truly alone. If you’re not at practice, you’re back at the hotel in the gym. If you’re not in the gym, you’re running into a teammate and chatting. It’s full-on.
Zipping up my coat, I head out of the lodge and start up the park trail that leads into the township of Maple Falls. I’ve got my head down as I stroll along, still thrown from running into Willa, but all of this hockey business is really spinning me out lately.
Since before I said yes to coming to Maple Falls, I’ve been on the fence about this life. I’ve been doing this for several years now, and I’ve seen the ups and downs it can bring. I’ve made it through a hard time, for me, and come out on the other side. I’d been tossed from my NHL team, rightly so, down to the AHL, but it was the best thing for me. The Renegades have been my family; they’ve rallied around me and given me confidence to get back on my skates again, as it were.
But, some days when I get home after practice and it’s cold and dark and it’s just me having dinner, I feel empty. Like something is missing. I’ve dated. Most recently it was an actress. Cecilia. A tiny shudder makes me laugh out loud. What a train wreck that relationship turned out to be.
We dated a few months before I realized she liked the press we got as a couple, but she really couldn’t have cared less about us and our relationship. I was, and am, ready to be more settled. Looking ahead to the future, she wasn’t there. The final nail in the coffin for me was when she started partying harder and would show up at my games so inebriated that I’d have to steer her out of the arena on those nights. Not ideal when you’re me.
“Noah! Wait up.”
Turning around, I spot Scotty MacFarland jogging to catch up with me. I’ve known him since I started playing, both of us coming up the ranks at the same time. Only Scotty stepped back when his wife was terminally ill. It was around the same time I had my own demons to deal with, and we’d lost touch. Seeing him here, and as assistant coach, had been a nice surprise.
“Hey, man,” I say, stopping to wait for him. “You’re not going to that party tonight?”
“Nah,” he says, shaking his head, clapping me on the back. “I’m grabbing a pizza and helping a friend. What are you doing?”
“Looking for dinner.”
“Ah, well,” Scotty begins as we fall in stride, “I can recommend the pizza place, or there’s a diner nearby, too. If you want something where you can sit and be warm and think quietly, then The Glass Olive, which serves Italian, might be the place to go.”
“Oh, Italian is the way to go.”
“It’s not far, I’ll show you a shortcut,” he says. He then switches gears, his voice going down an octave. “I’ve been meaning to check in and see how you’re doing. I know the first few practices felt rough for everyone. You good?”
“Always reading my mind,” I say. “I guess so. I know it’s going to take all of us a bit to get to know our strengths and weaknesses, but we’ll get there.”
“I get it,” he says. As he bobs his head up and down, his mop of messy hair flops along with it. “We both know that the magic will come; we just have to sit still and let it happen. Hockey is like an emerald: too much pressure and we’ll crack it.”
“Good way to think about it,” I agree. “Like life.”
“One hundred percent.”
We walk along the trail, catching up on our worlds outside of hockey. Scotty fills me in on his twelve-year-old daughter, instantly making me jealous and bringing me back to my own questions about what I’m doing with my life. In turn, I fill him in on life in Virginia and what the Renegades are like. My words sound hollow next to his tales of school drop-offs, juggling coaching with school plays, and all the warm and fuzzy things that happen when you have family.
“Here.” He stops suddenly, pointing down a path. At first glance, it appears to go nowhere, but in the distance, I can make out a streetlight. “Follow that and it’ll come up to Maple Road, the town’s main street. The Glass Olive will be to your left and up the street half a block.”
“Thanks, man,” I say, watching as he jogs off, headed to get his pizza, a stab of envy infiltrating my heart.
The Glass Olive seems to be pretty quiet tonight, and it’s alright by me. The bar is empty and only a few of the tables in the large open main dining room are filled .
The young hostess stands with a pile of menus in her hands, beaming my way. I bet this is her first part-time job out of high school.
“Table for one?” she asks. I nod.
“Do you have a reservation?” When I shake my head no, there’s a wrinkle that forms in her brow as she scans a sheet on the desk in front of her. “Okay, I have a spot where I can put you, but it’s not the best. You’ll be at the back.”
“It’s fine.” Poor thing. She’s nervous. I watch as she goes to pull one menu out of her Jenga stack, only to have them all flop onto the ground around her. Bending down, I help gather them, only to have someone tap on my shoulder.
“You don’t need to do that.” Glancing up, a very beautiful woman with long blonde hair grins at me. She holds out her hand to help me stand, turning her attention to the young girl once I’m up. “Kara, I told you to wipe the menus off, then let me know when you are done. You’re not supposed to greet people while holding all the menus in your hands.”
Kara’s eyes meet mine, and I can feel embarrassment flickering between us. She gives me a sheepish smile. “Sorry, Mom.”
“Ixnay!” the woman hisses as she slices her hand in the air, a tight smile forming on thin bright pink lips. “Call me Molly when we’re here. Got it?”
Kara, her shoulders hunched, begins to slink away while Molly, who is still all smiles, stands in front of me, dripping with seduction as she places a hand on her hip. It’s like I’ve walked into the Twilight Zone of restaurants in this town.
When I look at Molly, this woman is giving me the old up-and-down. She’s taking in every inch of my body from top to bottom, and it immediately tells me what I need to know. Being in sports, you know this type of person. Today it’s Molly, tomorrow it could be anyone else—they flirt with you, give you a little extra attention because of who you are.
And I do not like it.
“I’ve not seen you in Maple Falls before,” she says, her voice breathy and low. Almost a purr, like a kitten. A very nasty older kitten who is perennially in heat. She leans forward, her breasts heaving out of the top of her dress like something my niece watches on that Netflix show, Bridgerton . “But, I think I’ve noticed you doing all the ice hockey things?”
Doing the ice hockey things. I would crack a smile at her attempt to ingratiate herself to me if I wasn’t so irritated at how she belittled her daughter in front of me mere moments ago.
Instead of doing what I want to do, which is to read her the riot act on parenting, I simply smile and nod. Another point for the anger therapy I’ve taken part in over the years. “You’re right. I’m here for the charity games.”
“Well, it’s nice to have you join us tonight.” Molly waves a menu in the air reminding me of a Southern woman fanning herself on a hot and humid August afternoon. “So, despite the look of the place, most of our tables are reserved. However, for you, I have a table in the front window …”
“Actually, Kara had already told me about the table in the back.” I nod my head toward the back wall of the restaurant where Kara stands, watching the exchange. “Is that the table you mean, Kara?”
Her eyes bounce to her mother’s and then to mine as she slowly nods. Turning to her mother, it’s my turn to grin. Beam, in fact. “Perfect. I’ll take that one.”
Molly takes the menu and starts to walk ahead of me, but instead, I stop her.
“Sorry, Molly is it?” I hold out my hand. “I can take the menu and seat myself, if that’s okay.”
Molly’s face goes blank, a ridge forming across her forehead, but she hands me the menu. I’m hoping she’s picking up on the fact that no, I won’t be talking to her further this evening.
“Sure,” she says bluntly as she nods at Kara. “Kara, be a sweetie and take a setting off that two-top.”
Mumbling my thanks, I nearly sprint to the table, sliding into my chair as Kara clears the spot. As I settle in with my menu, Kara looks around to make sure her mother is out of earshot before she cuts her eyes my way.
“Sorry about that.”
“No. I’m sorry your mother treated you that way in front of me.” Looking at this young impressionable girl, I want to reach out and hug her, tell her I get it. I was once in her shoes, dealing with a father who acted very much the same. Pushy. Bossy. Like he knew best, but to my detriment. “I think you’re doing a great job, but I also think if you don’t want to work in the same place as your family … don’t.”
“Thank you for saying that.” Giggling, Kara nods her head. “I’ll go get the busboy to bring over some bread and water for you. Your server will be out soon.”
As she disappears, I reach inside my jacket and pull out a book. One of the first days I landed here I’d walked around the town to get a feel for it and stumbled into the coolest little bookshop, Falling for Books. One of the employees had taken the time to talk to me about what I was feeling like I needed to read right now, and she even gathered quite the selection. I left with five new books that day, but tonight’s book is intentional. With the way I’d been feeling about practices and our lack of gelling as a team, I’d brought along You Are a Badass Every Day to get some motivational help.
Yes. I am a man who likes a good self-help book, and I ain’t too proud to talk about it nor show the cover.
As I turn the pages, though, my chance encounter with Willa comes to mind. Again. I’ve spent the last few days since our run-in thinking of her. Pffft. Who am I kidding? I’ve spent the last few years thinking about her.
Do I recall that particular day on her set? Yes and no. It wasn’t my best moment. In fact, I ended up in rehab about a week later, and a month after that, I cleaned house and fired all the team I had around me. My PR staff, my agent, managers, all of them. Anyone who had helped enable me over the years, because that is what it had come to. I was a money-making machine for them, never mind I was drowning.
The thing I remember most about that day, though, was locking eyes with the photographer the moment I walked on that set. She had the kindest, most innocent air about her. Like a wicked genius who had no idea the power she held over me. I’d looked her up before the shoot and researched the work she’d done. I was excited I had the chance to work with her. When she talked to me, it felt like she could see through me, and—not gonna lie—it freaked me out.
To the point I requested that my publicist run out and get me more tequila. Nothing like more booze to put a Band-Aid on last night’s hangover, right?
The shrill ring of my cell phone breaks my thoughts. Swiping it from its spot on the table, I see my current agent’s name flash across the screen and I grin.
“Travis. Good to hear from you, man. What’s going on?”
“Just over here making deals for you, my friend.” He chuckles in my ear. Travis Richards is the agent not only for myself but for a few of my teammates in River City. He’d come to me highly recommended by my friend Dixon, the goalie for the Renegades. “Are you settling in okay in Maple Falls?”
“Believe it or not, I am. Reminds me of that TV show my niece used to watch … about a mom and her daughter. I think they had the same name.”
“Stars Hollow,” Travis laughs. “The show is called Gilmore Girls , and it’s my sister, Riley’s, favorite show of all time.”
“Noted. Hey, you’re here, in Maple Falls now, right?”
“I’m at The Regent’s Hotel. This town is really quaint.”
“Yeah, it’s the perfect small town in a lot of ways,” I say as my eyes land on Molly who is watching me like a hawk as she pours a drink behind the bar. “It’s also a little clingy, but what’re you gonna do?”
“As long as you’re staying out of trouble,” he teases. That’s what I like about him: we talk openly about my past, but he knows I am who I am now. The old Noah, he’s gone. “I’d come to meet you, but I’ve been invited by Zach Hart to some fancy party at the house of some family who are, like, local business owners or entrepreneurs or something. I was hoping you were going.”
“Nah, not for me. I’m at dinner, then going to get an early night. I want to hit the ice ahead of everyone tomorrow to get my head into the game, you know?”
“Of course.” Travis pauses for a beat before he presses on. “While I have you, let me go over a few things with you really quick.”
“Hit me with it.”
“First, we need to discuss the dinner you’re having with a local fan while you’re here.”
I fight the urge to sigh. Travis knows I’m not the best when it comes to one-on-ones, but I also trust him and know he wouldn’t have me doing this unless he had a good reason.
“Fine. Who is it and where is it?”
“I’m still firming up the details, but Charlie Arnold is a thirteen-year-old who has been dying to meet you. The Arnolds want to extend an invitation for you to come to their place for a home-cooked meal. I told them I’d ask, so it’s up to you.”
“Home cooked sounds better and less public than out in a restaurant.” Plus this fan is only thirteen? Travis knows my weak spot. I’ll do anything for the kids. “Of course I’m happy to go to their place for a meet, greet, and eat.”
“Awesome,” Travis says with a snicker in my ear. “Now, something less fun is that Cecilia is trying to get in touch for tickets and she wants to know your schedule. How do you want me to handle it?”
“Ignore her. I’ve told her no when she’s messaged me, when she’s emailed, and when she’s had her assistant reach out to my publicist. No means no. She is toxic and I don’t want her here.”
“Well, that makes that a simple answer. I’ll let her know that your people want her to steer clear. ”
“Please, just do your best to keep her away. I’ve got enough on my plate.”
“Speaking of plates, pass yours down because I’ve got more to pile on it. We’ll call this the Thanksgiving priority list.”
“Ha,” I say, sliding the menu in front of me and scanning it as Travis ticks down his to-do list. “What’s next?”
“The Ice Breakers are doing a signing table at this thing called Maple Fest. You’ve probably seen the signs for it around town. It’s a harvest festival with corn mazes, pumpkin decorating, and all kinds of Hallmark vibes happening.”
“I’ve seen the posters. I guess I’m doing a shift there that day?”
“Ding, ding, ding! You’re the big winner … you’ll be doing a two-hour shift with another player or two. Plus we also have the feature with Athletic Edge to talk about.”
The mention of the magazine brings me back to Willa. My stomach both dips in fear and hitches with giddiness at the mere thought.
“There’s a reporter who I’ve been in contact with. We’re going to arrange a time for you to meet with them either over Zoom or in person, so stay tuned for that. This article could mean you getting another contract to stay with River City Renegades next year, but it could also mean you get called back up to the NHL.”
And there’s the sting. The sting of a man who was riding high on the hog in the NHL, but got slammed back down to the AHL when he acted like a giant fool.
“But,” Travis continues, “it’s the photographer that I wanted to talk to you about.”
Before he has a chance to go further, I interrupt. “I met the photographer already.”
“You did?”
“She was at the press junket a few days ago. It’s Willa Blackwell. ”
I don’t have to finish the sentence. Travis knows all of it, and his groan tells me he’s thinking the same thing I am.
“Oh, man. Then you need to fix that situationship as fast as possible before she takes close-ups of your nostrils.”
“A situationship?” I’ve not heard this term before, and I’m genuinely intrigued.
“Yes. It’s a relationship that’s in a situation.” Travis elicits a sigh so loud, I swear it smacks my eardrum. “You’re doing really well, but you have a lot of negative press and a rep that still hangs on you like a bad stink from the old days. You need her to make you look good as much as you need me to help you talk good.”
“I talk fine, thank you,” I almost choke out, but Travis’s laughter floats through the line reverberating in my ear. “Seriously, Trav, what do I do?”
“You’re a big boy. You’ll figure it out.” The sound of a ding on his end makes me think he’s probably sitting in front of an open computer, reading email. “Ahhh, Noah, I need to run. Not sure if I told you, but there’s an assistant coach position opening up on the Renegades next year and they want to fill it fast. I’ve been asked to help scout some possibilities while I’m here, and it looks like one of the guys they’d like for the job is going to be at this party tonight.”
“Go, and good luck. Talk to you tomorrow?”
“I’ll stop by the rink and catch up with you after practice.”
Disconnecting from the call, I finally decide on the lasagna because it sounds like the perfect comfort food needed for the night. All of the work talk with Travis has my heart doing this weird thing, where it’s kind of heavy. I like talking about ice hockey, it’s all I’ve breathed and lived for years, but I’m not feeling “it” right now.
I’m in a place where I think I’m starting to question my longevity in this role. Do I stay or go before I’m asked to leave? I mean, maybe retirement isn’t so bad … but do I still want to make a run for the NHL again, and get back what I once had ?
My server takes my order and promises to be back soon. Once he’s gone, I pull my book out and turn my attention to being a badass every day. I feel like I need this right now.
My mind swirls with all kinds of thoughts when a blast of cold air alerts me that someone’s opened the door to the restaurant. My back is to the door, but I watch as Kara comes flying out of the kitchen, making her way to the front to greet whomever is there.
“Welcome to The Glass Olive,” Kara sings out, a little more confident this time than previously. “Do you have a reservation?”
“No, no reservation,” a familiar woman’s voice croons. “Table for one, please.”
I know the voice. Turning around slowly, my heart stops when my eyes lock with Willa’s.