Chapter 18
CALEB
Every minute since I’ve left my family’s cabin yesterday, I’ve counted down the seconds until I see Holly again. The fear that she could still slip through my fingers again haunted my sleep last night. I chase it away with the mantra that she said yes when I asked her out.
I don’t want her to believe she’s a fling to me. She’s my world, and I’m done living without her in my life.
This time I’m doing it all right. I’m going to be clear with her that I’m serious about us. I don’t want to keep her a secret and sneak around this time.
I almost call Layla on my way over to Trevon’s office in midtown Manhattan. The urge to tell her I’m in love with Holly burns in my chest, but first I want to make sure Holly wants this as much as I do.
Christ, it’ll eviscerate me if she turns me down when I tell her I love her tonight. I’m more nervous for our date than I am for this meeting.
As the private car Trevon sent to the hotel for me pulls up in front of his building, I check my phone.
Seeing a new text with Holly’s name makes my heart do a shamelessly excited flip. Not sure how long it’ll take for me to get used to seeing messages from her after all the time I spent wishing for her to respond to me.
“Thanks. Have a good day,” I tell the driver.
He nods politely. Climbing out, I open her text to read it.
Holly
I hope everything goes amazing! [heart emoji]
Caleb
Thanks. Can’t wait to see you tonight and tell you all about it. [heart emoji]
Holly
Good things always happen for me when I bake this, so I got up early this morning to make it for you. Ignore what it says, I always write the same thing because it’s this specific version that has the magic effect. I’m superstitious like that, but I hear you hockey players understand superstitions.
She sends a photo of a small heart-shaped cake with elaborate frosting. The glazed, neat script on it reads you’ve got this, you magnificent bitch. I grin like an idiot, thrilled beyond belief.
“Oh, shit, no way.”
A kid walking by with a family decked out in I-heart-New-York tourist memorabilia stops in his tracks. He tugs on the sleeve of the older teen next to him as I’m typing out my thanks to my girl.
“What?” the teen grumbles.
“Look. That’s Caleb Adler,” the kid hisses.
“Is not.” The teen squints at me. “Shit, it is!”
I plaster on the professional persona I slip into when I engage with fans, bracing for this to go south if they’ve read the articles online from the last couple of weeks. To my relief, they’re both genuine when they approach me and ask for my autograph in awestruck stammers.
“No problem.” I accept the pen they offer and scrawl my signature across their t-shirts. “You guys big hockey fans?”
“Hell yeah,” the older one says. “You’re our favorite player.”
Something warm and gratifying ping-pongs around my chest. I wasn’t sure I’d hear any fan say that about me again.
“I liked you first,” his younger brother insists. “When you played for Chicago. But I followed you after you were traded. You’re so cool! None of my friends are going to believe I met you.”
A huff of laughter escapes me. “Yeah? Thank you.”
Their parents snap photos of us together. I wave goodbye and head inside feeling lighter and more energized.
Trevon meets me at the elevator bank once I’m through security. His braided locs are pulled back in a loose tie, and the silver rings on his fingers catch the light as he smooths them down the front of his crisp tailored suit. We clasp hands and he pulls me in to pat my back.
“That mountain air must be a hell of a thing. You look much less like death warmed over,” he says.
I smirk. “Something like that. I’m feeling good.”
“That’s what I like to hear.”
We take the elevators to his agency’s floor. One of his assistants catches us on our way by the front desk.
“Mr. Hill, the guests you were waiting on for your next meeting have arrived. They’re in the conference room.”
He nods in thanks. I stop Trevon in the hall before we enter.
“Anything else you want to fill me in on about who we’re meeting with? All you’ve told me is it’s a retired player from your time in the league involved and that they’re setting up here.”
“I’ve got your back. I wouldn’t be so optimistic about this if I didn’t think it was the right call for you,” he says. “You trust me?”
My shoulders relax. “Of course. You’ve never steered me wrong.”
“Then let me work, man. Come on.” With one of his wide winning smiles, he pushes the door open.
“Hilly,” a tall bear of a man with a stubbled jaw looking out the window greets energetically.
“Jonesy,” Trevon responds like he’s back in the locker room before a game.
My spine straightens. Micah Jones is one of the top hockey players to grace the ice in the last fifteen years. He’s around Trevon’s age with eleven years on me. I followed his record religiously once I first saw him play. Elijah’s going to be so jealous I met him before he did.
I vaguely recognize the other two people in the room, too.
Sonia Holloway commands a powerful presence in her sharp tweed business suit.
She’s organized a few of the league’s charity events I’ve attended.
The other man is her brother, Reid. He entered the NHL at eighteen, but an injury forced him to retire early in his third season.
“Look at his face.” Trevon chuckles, slapping me on the back. “Caleb, I’m sure I don’t have to introduce Micah to you. Jonesy, this is Caleb Adler.”
“It’s an honor, sir.” I shake his hand, trying—and failing—not to let my inner fanboy out.
Micah chuckles, elbowing Trevon. “Sir. I like this kid already.”
“Let’s get started, shall we?” Sonia suggests.
“It’s good to see you again,” I say, taking the seat next to Trevon across from her and her brother. Micah leans against the wall with a cheerful smile.
“First, allow me to reintroduce myself.” Sonia holds out a hand to shake. “I’m Sonia Holloway, and this is my brother Reid. We’re launching a hockey team based in Mayfield, Massachusetts. You’ve met our head coach, Micah.”
My brows shoot up. Trevon has no idea the gift he’s given me.
“Mayfield,” I repeat.
She nods. “The Mayfield Mavericks will enter the league next season. When we saw you were available, we knew we had to have you for our roster. I’ve followed you and your brother’s records closely.”
I glance at Trevon. He senses where my head’s at after working together for so long and jumps in.
“While the circumstances of Mr. Adler’s contract with his previous team ending have been embellished and splashed across media outlets, I want to assure you that it was not a reflection of his conduct, professionally or privately,” Trevon says.
His way of wording my dismissal from the team over a difference in morality for the sake of money certainly sounds nicer than the way I’d put it.
“I knew that right away,” Sonia says.
“Really?” I sit up straighter.
She nods. “The last time we met, you were in attendance at the fundraising event I organized supporting a hockey night out with patients from a children’s hospital.
You met with all the children, making sure none were left out, then stayed after to help the staff clean up. You didn’t have to do that.”
I shrug. “That’s the kind of guy I am.”
She gives me a sharp, satisfied smirk. “I know. Which is why I haven’t believed a word of those articles online. For the record, our PR team tells me fan sentiment is on your side and calling for your teammate to be suspended in light of the eyewitness accounts shared from that night.”
Chet would deserve it. I push him from my mind.
Compared to the two previous teams I’ve been with, I like the energy the three of them bring to the table. It’s professional, yet there’s an underlying air that’s down to earth. It sets me at ease, believing I’m not dealing with people who are only thinking about money.
“This is the offer we’ve prepared for you.” Reid slides a tablet across the table to Trevon.
He puts on a pair of reading glasses and holds it so we both can see. It takes all of my composure to keep my face blank reading the eight figure number. It’s triple what I was worth as a player when Seattle signed me.
I was already in, no matter how this meeting went down. It’s a hell of a bonus to see a number like that offered for me. I’m ready to ink this deal now, but I wait for my agent to do his thing.
“We believe strongly in the roster we’re building and want to make competitive moves to ensure our players feel our sincerity when we say we want to take care of them,” Sonia says.
Trevon nods slowly, tapping the four year term length. “Give us five years with a renewal clause for an extension. And add in a no-trade clause.”
Reid whispers with Sonia, then nods. “Done.”
Trevon looks at me, catching the eager look I’m failing to hold back. He smirks and hands the tablet back.
“I think we’re good to go. Send the contract to my office for a full review.”
I shake hands with my future team owners and coach. “Thank you.”
“Welcome to the Mavs,” Micah says.
“Who else is on the roster so far?” I ask.
“We have one other player officially signed,” Reid explains. “He’s stopping in shortly to finalize everything.”
Shortly turns out to be two minutes later. Trevon gets a text and ducks out of the room. He comes back with a familiar face I wasn’t expecting to see.
“Is that you, Bouch?” I rise to my feet with a hearty chuckle. “It’s been a minute.”
Theo Boucher bumps his fist with mine, brown eyes widening in amused delight. He ruffles his hair, the dark blond thicker on top and faded on the sides.
We’ve known each other since we played on the same team in college. Me and our other teammate, Alex, were both drafted before we finished out our time in the NCAA. Once Theo graduated, he became a free agent and met Trevon through me. We’ve shared him as an agent ever since and have kept in touch.
“What’s up, bro?”
“Is this team a Heston U reunion tour?” I joke.
“They started with the best, obviously,” Theo replies.
I snort. “You and Keller were sick wingers. Our line felt unstoppable. I thought you still had a year left in Colorado?”
He shakes his head. “My contract was up for renegotiation, but I was looking for a move to bring me closer to my dad.”
I nod in understanding. It becomes crystal clear that my decision to sign with the Mayfield Mavericks is the right one. It keeps me where I want to be with Holly, I respect the ownership, and I’ll get to play with an old friend as my teammate once again.
This new team is my opportunity to turn what happened in Seattle with Chet into an inconsequential blip on my player record because I’m far from done with hockey.
“Welcome to the Mavs family,” Micah crows. “We’re gonna hit it hard next season and build something together.”
“Glad to be a part of it,” I say.
“Want to grab lunch after this and catch up?” Theo asks.
I grin. “Can’t. I’ve got plans tonight. I’m heading out of the city as soon as I leave here.”
“Plans?” He lifts a brow.
“Taking my girlfriend out to dinner to celebrate.” It feels damn good to say it.
“Hang on, what girlfriend? You? Since when?” Theo follows me out of the conference room.
My chuckle echoes down the hall. “You’ll meet her soon. I’ll see you at practice, Bouch.”
He claps me on the shoulder. “It’s gonna be good to skate with you again.”
“Hell yeah.”
Two weeks ago, I thought my career was toast. So much has changed for me in that time that I feel like a new man leaving the building. I ride my good mood all the way back to my hotel and hop right in my rental car to hit the road.