Chapter Nine
FINN
NY (OCTOBER)
I step into the Rush training rink, and like the first time, like every time, I can’t help but squeal with excitement.
Internally, of course, because even if I’m not cool, I can act cool.
Not that I hold back my inner geek with my friends.
I send them pictures and log every moment like I’m making a podcast about the rookie experience.
My texts are full of mind-blown emojis every time I discover something new.
Or anytime you’re talking about Sel.
I still can’t believe I’m playing my first pro season with him.
Not just playing, hanging out. It’s amazing that we’ve become fast friends.
Which is why I haven’t mentioned to Sel what I overheard on game night at the Velvet Beast. The last thing he needs is negative crap from teammates getting in his head.
I’m waiting to see what Brady and St. Clare are like this week.
So far things have calmed, and they’ve been fine on the ice, but I don’t miss Brady’s side-eye every time Sel’s around.
We’ve got another home game coming up and then we hit the road, heading west to California.
Before our road trip, however, Sel has his “date” with Taylor Grimaldi.
I’ve been reading up on Taylor, and the football star isn’t just talented when it comes to football, he’s sophisticated, well-spoken, and handsome.
I’ll be shocked as hell if Sel doesn’t fall for him.
Still, I’m feeling protective about Sel, and I worry that Taylor might try to take advantage of the situation.
The very idea is laughable, I know, but I get like this when it comes to my friends.
I’m intense once I commit to a relationship, and I’m fiercely protective of my friends, no matter what.
Sel’s probably sick of me by now. Not that he acts like it.
In fact, he texts me as often as I text him.
Like yesterday, when he was walking through Central Park and sent me a bunch of photos, including a selfie of himself sitting by the lake.
Admittedly, I saved the picture. I thought playing alongside my idol would be hard to beat, but getting to know Sel as a person is even better.
He talks a lot about his brothers and how close they are, and his love for his family reminds me of my own.
Sel’s sense of humor is slowly making a comeback too, along with that incredible smile, and his mood seems to be improving every time we talk.
Not that that has anything to do with me, though.
I’m sure it’s his friends, like Damien, and his family that have made all the difference.
The weird thing is, I’m feeling kinda possessive about my friend.
Last time I was at Sel’s place, I suggested we head out and grab a beer at a local bar.
He told me he had other plans and left it at that.
And he didn’t offer any details, I didn’t ask, so I assumed his silence meant he was going out to get laid.
It shouldn’t have bothered me, but my stomach twisted painfully at the thought.
My friends talk about their hookups and it’s no biggie, but strangely enough, I don’t want to hear about Sel’s.
Not that it stops me from wondering who he was with, what kind of man or woman he’s attracted to, and plenty of other questions I have no right to be thinking about.
It’s only because he’s vulnerable and you’re concerned.
I remind myself that Sel can do whatever, and whomever, he wants.
Today, I hold off texting him because I’ll see him on the ice in no short order.
Maybe I need to ease off a bit, give him space.
It’s best for me too. Hockey is why I’m here, and I can’t lose sight of that.
I need to focus all my energy on the game.
Going pro was my dream, and now my career, and I take it seriously.
With that in mind, I hit the locker room, only it turns out that I’m the last one to arrive. Not a good look for a rookie.
Set your alarm twenty minutes earlier next time.
No one says anything, but I don’t want them to think I’m a slack-ass and that I’m taking this opportunity for granted.
Without fail, I scan the room for Sel and find him talking with Berg and Tullmore.
Instead of making my way over to join them, I haul my late butt to my stall, grab my stuff, and start suiting up.
When I’m finally tying my skates, Sorensen sidles up to me.
“Kirkland seems to be in a better headspace this week.”
I don’t want to think about why.
“How so?”
“He looks relaxed and he’s talking more.”
Conversely, I’m quieter and tense as fuck.
Sorensen nudges my shoulder. “I’m guessing he went out and had some dirty fun, right?”
“Yeah, probably.”
I glance across the room again, but Sel doesn’t look my way or wave or anything. I get that sinking feeling in my gut, but decide I’m being dramatic.
You don’t need to have all his attention, all the time. Chill the fuck out.
“What’d you get up to on your days off?” I ask Sorensen, changing the subject.
“Slept. Ate. Played video games. Ate. Ate. Worked out.”
I chuckle.
“Same. Sel and I reviewed the game day clips, ended up watching football, and stuffed in so many calories that I’m still full.”
Shit, me and my big fucking mouth. I shouldn’t have said that out loud. Then again, fuck it. If Sorensen doesn’t like it, too bad.
“So, you guys hang out?”
I nod.
“Yeah. We have friends in common, so it’s all cool.”
“Maybe I can join you next time?” Sorensen adds as he takes a swig from his water bottle.
“Join who, where?” Makela interrupts, suddenly appearing in front of us. “What is it you’re talking about? Sex clubs? Orgies?”
Sorensen shoots water out his nose, and it hits Makela’s jersey with a loud splat. I can’t help but snort too.
“Gross,” Makela grunts as he steps back.
“We’re talking about a post-game hangout with me, Kirkland, Sorensen, and whoever else wants to come,” I explain. “We analyze the game, eat a week’s worth of food, and then watch football so we can criticize other professional athletes.”
Makela offers me his fist to bump. “I’m in. I’m sure Kuz will be too.”
“My place? Friday?” I offer.
“You’re on. I’ll bring the booze,” Makela offers and stands up.
“On recovery day?”
“We travel the day after that, so yes, trust me, we’ll need a buzz. Who are you rooming with on the road?”
“Uh, I don’t know,” I reply. “I haven’t checked the schedule yet.”
I reach for my phone and bring up the team’s travel schedule.
“As long as you don’t get Kuz, you’re good,” Sorensen remarks. “He snores like a freaking symphony of chainsaws. It’s the worst.”
I quickly scan the email, and when I see the list of names and who I’m paired with…
“Fuck.” I look up.
“Seriously? You got Kuz?” Makela grunts. “You unlucky bastard.”
“I better remember to bring my headphones.”
“Earplugs too,” Sorensen snickers. “And extra pillows in case you need to sleep in the shower.”
“Holy shit,” I mutter.
I don’t have time to worry about it because Makela smacks my shoulder.
“Come on, rookie, we’ve all been there. You’ll survive. It’s time to get to work.”
Sel
I’ve got some bizarre internal radar when it comes to Finn because I know the second he walks into the room.
It takes everything in me to keep focused on the conversation I’m having with Berg and Tullmore, but I do it.
I’ve decided that friendship with Finn is fine, if we keep it off the ice and out of the locker room. It’s better that way.
Better for whom?
Him. Definitely better for him. And I think Finn agrees because he doesn’t make any move to talk to me either.
Hell, he hasn’t even looked my way since he arrived, and I’m out of sorts about it.
I work out, organize my closet, watch TV…
truly exciting stuff. I should enjoy the peace of solitude, but it’s too much silence.
It’s weird, but I haven’t heard Finn’s boisterous laughter in what seems like forever, and I stupidly miss it.
Jesus, I need more sleep. Or sex. Probably the latter.
I should’ve followed through on my plan to hit a club, but I never went out and I didn’t have sex.
So much for an excuse to cut my night short with Finn…
After he left my place, I wasn’t in the mood to go anywhere.
Once upon a time, the very idea of hooking up would have me running out the door.
Not anymore. I just know that Hugo’s waiting for me to screw up, and it’s probably why I’m hesitating.
It’s probably best if I stick with my own hand and leave hookups for later.
I can’t believe that’s where my mind’s at, but some days I don’t recognize myself anymore.
The echo of a familiar voice carries across the room, and this time I can’t help but turn to the source. No surprise, my defensive partner is the center of attention, surrounded by Sorensen and Makela.
“You ready, Sel?” Ranken asks.
I realize, too late, that I’m staring at Finn and quickly look away.
“Yeah, of course.”
The team scrambles out of the locker room, and I find myself in the middle of our group as we make our way to the ice.
Kuznetsov shuffles along beside me as we make small talk.
Out of nowhere, I suddenly get bumped in the back and trip hard.
For a second, all I see is Tullmore’s jersey, and I know I’m about to cause a domino effect and take him and everyone else in front of me down.
Thankfully, Kuznetsov reacts quicker than I do.
He grabs my arm and stops an embarrassing scenario from becoming a total disaster.
“Shit, thanks, Kuz,” I offer as he hauls me back up.
“No worries,” he replies with a grin.
I look over my shoulder to find Brady behind me. Did he nudge me by accident or on purpose? He doesn’t look guilty, but then again, he won’t look me in the eye.
Presumably guilty.
Asshole.