3. Jax
CHAPTER THREE
JAX
“Welcome back to Chicago, Mr. Morrow.”
I smile and nod at George, my building’s doorman, who has worked here long before I moved in. He retired from serving his community for over thirty years on the police force but quickly realized that retirement life was not for him. He’s been a doorman here ever since.
“Thanks, George. It’s good to be back. How’s the family?”
“Everyone’s good, sir. Thanks for asking. We just became grandparents for the first time.”
“That’s right! I remember you telling me your daughter-in-law was pregnant,” I recall, and I playfully punch him in the bicep. “Show me a photo, Gramps.”
He laughs and pulls out his phone to find a photo of his newborn granddaughter. “This is Sofia on the day she was born. Now—” he takes his phone back and scrolls for another photo. “—she’s nine weeks old.” He turns his phone around for me to see.
“She’s beautiful, George.” I study the photo, and memories flood into my mind from when Chloe was born. “I bet she has you wrapped around her little finger.”
“You know it, Mr. Morrow. The papa mode is fierce. Got to protect her from guys like you.” He laughs, and while I know it's a joke, it rubs me the wrong way.
Guys like me? Does he see me as some bad guy?
George has seen the many women who have come in and out of my condo since my breakup, so I understand where his comment stems from, but I’m not trying to break women’s hearts here.
I make it crystal clear: I only want casual sex.
Nothing more, nothing less. Two failed relationships were it for me.
I refuse to give another woman my all and not receive the same in return.
George sees that I’m not smiling, and his laughter fades. He grips my forearm and says, “You know I’m just kidding, right, Mr. Morrow?”
“I know, George.” I remove my arm from his grasp, clap him on the back, and quickly change the subject. “Everything else good?”
He nods. “Yeah, my son and his wife are adjusting to life with a baby, and my wife is loving being a grandma.”
“Excellent,” I respond.
“Where you off to, Mr. Morrow? Need me to get you some transportation?”
“No thanks, George. It’s a beautiful day to walk, so I’ll see you later.”
“You got it, Mr. Morrow. Be safe.”
I acknowledge him with a salute and start heading toward the upscale Greek restaurant my agent wants to meet at for lunch.
As I walk and look around at my surroundings, I realize I kind of missed Chicago.
I arrived back late last night and poured my attention into unpacking until I was too tired to keep my eyes open.
I woke up early this morning and did some light grocery shopping before I had my first workout with my Chicago trainer.
We start training camp in a couple of days, and I want to be fully acclimated back into my routine here.
Speaking of routines, I pull out my phone and dial Emmalee, my number one fuck buddy while I’m in town.
It’s been over three months since I’ve had sex and just the thought of Emmalee stirs my dick.
Emmalee is a flight attendant whom I met last year on a quick boys’ trip to Las Vegas.
She’s young, hot and always eager to please.
“Hey beautiful, guess who’s back?” I say as soon as she picks up the phone.
“Oh hey,” she responds hesitantly. “How are you?”
My smile falters at her lack of enthusiasm when hearing my voice. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
She sighs. “I’m sorry, Jax, but I have a boyfriend now and I’m head over heels in love with him.”
This is surprising news to me, since she told me she wasn’t looking for a serious relationship. “I just saw you three months ago,” I scoff.
“I know, but it was love at first sight for us. I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize this new relationship. I’m sorry, but we can no longer be friends with benefits. Can we just be friends?”
She’s delusional if she thinks I want to just be friends.
“No, thanks. How about you call me when you guys break up, eh? Chat soon, Emmalee.” I hear her gasp in shock before I hang up on her.
Girls who only want to be my “friend” are full of shit and usually just want to use me for hockey tickets.
I’m not wasting my time on another bullshit friend.
Since I’m almost at the restaurant, I open up my text messages and look up Bianca, my other consistent fuck buddy.
Bianca is my Latin lover and is wild in bed.
So much so that I had to put her on the back burner for the crazy shit she likes to do.
Some of it is even too wild for me, but since it’s been so long since the last time I’ve been inside someone, I’m game for anything right now.
I quickly send her a text before I open the door to the restaurant.
I saunter up to the hostess stand, scanning the tables for my agent.
When I spot him, I let the hostess know and head in his direction.
Creed Stockton was a legendary hockey player for Vancouver.
His career was cut short because of multiple concussions, so he became a scout for them.
A couple years later, he started his own agency and became one of the top hockey agents in the league.
I was lucky he first discovered me when I was in Juniors and I signed with him as soon as he became certified.
We’re going on sixteen years together, and he’s never steered me wrong.
“My man,” he drawls out before giving me a hug. “Welcome back to Chi-town.”
“It’s good to be back,” I confirm. He gestures toward our table, and we take our seats. A busboy comes by with waters and some pita and hummus to snack on.
“How’s Chloe?” Creed asks while scooping up hummus with a spoon and putting it on his plate.
“Growing up too fast,” I respond while opening the menu. “She’s officially a teenager.”
Creed whistles, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe that. Is she boy crazy yet?”
“Thank God not yet, but I’m expecting that any day now, especially with the kind of friends she hangs out with.” I decide what I’m going to eat and shut my menu before leaning back in my seat.
“Not a fan of her friend group?”
“No, they’re puck bunnies in the making, and I want more for my daughter than that. Plus, they’re just mean girls. She’s actually having a hard time.”
Chloe started school a couple of weeks ago, and it has been rough.
The bullying and making fun of her weight has gotten worse.
My ex-wife has a meeting with the principal next week to discuss the harassment, but these girls are conniving and mainly do it when teachers aren’t around to hear their comments.
“Shit, that’s rough. I hope something can be done about it.” He pauses for the waitress to take our orders. We hand her our menus and continue our conversation.
“You and me both. I worry about Chloe as it is, since I’m not there. This bullshit drama is not the added distraction I need.”
It was hard leaving her yesterday to catch my flight here.
Our goodbyes always make me sad, but this was the worst one we’ve ever had.
I’ve never seen her cry for as long as she did, nor has she ever clung to me so fiercely.
I was so concerned that I asked my mom to take her out for ice cream to find out if there’s any other underlying issues Chloe hasn’t revealed to me. She came back with nothing new.
“You can’t let this affect your game,” Creed warns with a knowing look. He’s giving me this warning because I let my problems with Jenna completely derail my season two years ago. I vowed I would never again let anything—or anyone—interfere with my job.
“I promise it won’t,” I reassure him, hoping that things with Chloe get better. I have to trust that my ex-wife will handle this and not let it affect my job on the ice.
“Good,” he nods and leans forward in his seat, placing his forearms on the table. “Now let’s talk business. You have two years left on your contract. Are you thinking you’re going to want to play them out or after this season, request a trade?”
I ponder this for a moment. “Chicago has been good to me, and I’m excited for the new players they added to the roster this off-season.
I feel we’re going all the way this year, and if we don’t and they can keep most of the core group of guys, then for sure the following year.
Obviously, we need to see how this season goes, but I think I’m going to want to play out my contract here.
At least that’s my answer for right now. ”
“Good, and I completely agree with that strategy.” He pulls out his phone and starts typing on it. “After your contract is up, are you still wanting to only approach teams closer to Kelowna?”
“Right now, it’s a four-hour flight back home, and that’s only if I fly private, so yeah, I definitely want to be closer to home.”
He looks at me as if I’m stupid. “Why would you fly commercial if you can afford private?”
“Because I’m not bougie like you.” I laugh. “Plus, sometimes there isn’t a jet available.” I shrug. “I would like my future team to be a two-hour flight, maximum.”
Creed gives a big, long sigh. “Jax, that limits you to only a couple of teams.”
“Four teams—Vancouver, Seattle, Edmonton and Calgary.”
The waitress interrupts with our food, and as soon as she’s gone, Creed says, “You know, if you weren’t being such a pussy about Cal Harrington, playing in Kelowna would be a no-brainer.”
I grit my jaw, annoyed that Creed is bringing up his name. “It isn’t a no-brainer,” I respond, choosing to ignore his other comment. “There’s no guarantee they would even want me.”
“Oh, they want you. Rhys Wilson has already called expressing interest in your future. He’s a great guy who’s doing everything in his power to build a winning team. Not to mention, you would be home and able to be with your daughter full-time. Shouldn’t that override everything else?”
He’s right—it should override everything, but for some reason, I still can’t let my hatred for Cal Harrington go. If he’s still an investor in Wilson Ice Wines, then Kelowna won’t be an option.
End of story.