Second Chance at Center Ice

1. Zack

CHAPTER ONE

zack

“Do you think I’ll get to use an axe?” The rookie swings his knife, sawing off a piece of pancake like a wannabe breakfast lumberjack.

“No one is letting you within ten feet of an axe, rookie,” taunts Marsh, our star defenseman. “You can’t even handle a stick, but you think they’ll give you something with a sharp blade?”

The rookie hurls a sugar packet, hitting Marsh square in the chest. “That was one time! Can’t a guy trip over his own stick once without hearing about it every freakin’ day?

” He glares at Marsh who’s snickering at him from behind his coffee mug.

“And my name’s West, or Bax, or Baxley. Literally anything else, just stop calling me a rookie.

I played last season, so I have experience.

” He sits up a little straighter, puffing out his chest like a badger preparing for battle.

“Getting called up right before the trade deadline and playing in a couple games still makes you a rookie, rookie.” Marsh snorts, no longer bothering to hide his amusement. He grins mischievously at Bax before taking a long sip of his coffee.

“He started with the Meteors after me, and you don’t call him a rookie!” Bax points at me from across the table before letting out an exasperated huff.

A few diners are staring in our direction, but most are focused on eating their breakfasts.

With Charlie’s being the only full-service restaurant in the tiny town of Fiddlehead Ridge, the locals have gotten used to seeing us here and usually give us privacy.

Fiddlehead Ridge is practically a hockey town at this point, since most of us moved to be close to the training center.

Hockey players may soon outnumber the remaining town residents.

I throw my hands up in surrender. “I’m not part of this conversation.” West Baxley’s a good kid and a great winger, but he’s definitely still a rookie, and Marsh isn’t going to let him forget it.

Marsh motions to our teammates at a nearby table to get their attention. “Hey, guys! Baxley just called Shayle a rookie!”

Bax flails his hands, sending his fork crashing to his plate with a loud clank. “See, you can’t even handle a fork,” Marsh teases as Bax turns red, his anger boiling him like a lobster.

“That’s…that’s not what I meant!” He slams his hand down onto the table.

The chatter around the dining room quiets, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“You don’t need to call me a rookie if I’m not the only new guy on the team!

” He squirms in his seat as the rest of our teammates try not to laugh.

“And thanks for finally saying half my name, by the way.” The poor guy is easily rattled, but at least he’s standing up for himself.

“Calm down, kid. Marsh is just being an ass…as usual,” Brent mumbles the last part under his breath.

“But you owe him an apology.” He gestures at me.

“Zack Shayle is a hockey legend. You’re lucky to be breathing the same air as him, never mind sharing the ice.

” Brent Keene is always the level-headed one of the bunch, making him a good captain, but this is a bit of an exaggeration.

“Sorry, Captain. And sorry, Zack…I mean, Shayle.” Bax looks everywhere but at me before settling his eyes on his pancakes.

“No worries, man. Call me whatever you want.” This gets his attention and he finally dares to look me in the eyes. “And we did start together, so I’ve got your back,” I whisper. His lips pull into a small smile before giving me a quick nod.

We both started with the Maine Meteors around the same time last year, but this is my thirteenth year in the NHL.

I was traded here after the deadline, so unlike Bax, I wasn’t able to play in any of the playoff games.

The Meteors didn’t make it very far, so I didn’t miss much.

I’m grateful for an opportunity to play for my hometown team before I consider retirement in a couple of years.

“And I hope I’m crystal clear when I say that no one is using an axe today. Got it?” Heads nod in agreement as Brent looks around at our teammates seated at the surrounding tables. “It would be a PR nightmare if one of you destroyed something.”

“Agreed. No offense Brent, but your wife scares me when she’s angry,” Marsh says as he holds up both of his palms. “Give me any job that’ll get me on her good side.”

“Maybe if you stop causing extra work for her, she wouldn’t be angry. She could stop calling you to PR daily like you’re being sent to the principal’s office.”

“Jealous I get to spend time with your wife?” Marsh bats his eyelashes at Brent, who swiftly smacks him upside the head. “Dude, I’m kidding!” He rubs his head, shaking it like he’s got water in his ear.

Brent’s wife, Josie, is head of public relations for the Maine Meteors.

Marsh tends to be a walking PR problem, and he always keeps her busy.

He’s a huge asset to the team, and one of the best defensemen in the league, but he has a tendency to air his private life out a bit too publicly.

Despite trying to get him to rein in his behavior, she’s always putting out fires he leaves in his wake.

“Josie set this up with the state park, so don’t do anything stupid.

They need help, and we need good publicity, so it’s a win-win.

We’ll be picking up trash and maybe meeting with some visitors.

” He scans the room to make sure we’re all paying attention.

“We’ll help out for the day and take some photos.

She wants to document everything for the team’s socials.

Don’t mess this up for her.” Brent pauses as the waitress comes over to top off his coffee.

“Thanks,” he says to the her, as the scent of the warm brew fills the air.

“You’re welcome, honey,” she says with a warm smile.

The team eats at Charlie’s frequently and the staff treat us like the regulars we are.

Living in a tiny town provides us with a protective bubble from the public eye.

It’s so different from when I was living in Vancouver, where it was impossible to go out without being stopped.

Here, I can just live a regular life. It’s a nice change of pace.

I know it won’t be like this when we travel, or even on game nights in Portland, but for now, it’s nice.

“Marsh and Baxley, you’re working together today.” Brent’s grinning in a way that’s giving off a don’t mess with me vibe.

“I don’t think that’s—” Marsh attempts to protest, but Brent cuts him off.

“Think of it as team-mandated bonding. Anyway, everyone needs to finish eating or we’ll be late. You’ve got twenty minutes.”

“Yes, Captain,” some of the guys grumble.

Marsh lets out an exaggerated sigh as he slumps forward in his seat. “At least tell me you’re gonna come with me to Portland tonight?” he asks me, taking his last gulp of coffee.

“What’s in Portland?” I eye him suspiciously.

Going out with Marsh is precisely the sort of thing that could earn me a meeting with Brent’s wife, which is exactly what I’m trying to avoid.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind spending time with her— she’s intense, hilarious, and great at her job.

Josie and Brent have become great friends, welcoming me to the team with open arms. They invite me over for cookouts and game nights, but that’s outside of work.

The last thing I need is to get on management’s bad side because of a stupid decision. I can’t put my contract at risk.

“A new bar just opened. We’ll be VIPs.” Marsh waggles his eyebrows, looking a little too eager.

“Yeah, no thanks. I think my bed will be calling me after our little community service project.” The guys are always inviting me to go to the city with them, but trendy bars and clubs aren’t my scene.

Portland is over an hour away, and we’d end up staying at a hotel.

I don’t need to be dealing with Marsh and his escapades.

“I need a wingman. Come on, do it for your best D-man.” He flashes me an arrogant grin. No one could ever accuse Marsh of lacking self-confidence. And somehow his cockiness doesn’t hurt his hookup game.

“Bax is a winger, and you need a wingman. Sounds perfect to me.” I shrug my shoulders as a laugh bursts from my chest.

Marsh looks over at Bax, rapidly shaking his head. “Absolutely not. No way!” He waves his hands through the air as laughter continues to erupt from me.

“Yeah, take me with you! Please, man! I haven’t been out in forever. I’ll be the perfect wingman!” The poor guy is practically begging at this point. “Here, have the rest of my pancakes.” He shoves his plate toward Marsh with a hopeful smile.

“You can’t bribe me with pancakes, rookie.” Marsh pushes the plate back.

“It’s West! Or Bax!” He shoves the plate forward again.

“You two are ridiculous.” I’ve grown to love them both, but sometimes I feel like a referee…or a babysitter.

“You never go out. Think of tonight as your team-mandated bonding activity.” Marsh sports a sly grin as he leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can’t say no to that.”

“I can, and I did. Nope.” I clap him on the back with a laugh. “Nice try using your captain’s words to get what you want. Very creative.”

“How are you going to meet women if you don’t go to the city? We already know practically everyone in this town.” Marsh raises a brow. He thinks he’s won the battle, but he’s sorely mistaken.

“I’m not. End of story.” I have zero interest in a fling.

In fact, I’ve had no interest in anyone for a very long time, but I’m not about to get into the details of that with him.

Besides, going to a club is only going to attract people who are drawn to our supposed celebrity status, not because of a real connection.

Not that Marsh is looking for anything serious—he’s allergic to commitment.

Marsh blows out a long breath and slumps back into his seat. “Fine rookie, you can come out with me.” He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m going to regret this.” That may be true, but he can’t take back the invitation now.