Send Me Love

Prologue

EIGHT MONTHS AGO

“You’ve been coasting out there, man. First national game is next week, and your head’s somewhere else. Hell’s going on with you?” My best friend and alternate captain, Hunter, asks when he corners me once the others suit up and clear out of the locker room. Each avoid my eyes as they file past.

I swipe a hand across my face and shake my head, avoiding his glare.

Coach stormed off ten minutes ago after a pre-game lecture none of us really heard. Maybe it’s because everyone was busy shooting glances at me the entire time—their new captain, and apparently…latest liability.

I know they’re wondering if I’m going to blow it tonight too.

I’m sitting on the bench with my elbows braced on my knees and my head down while Hunter tears into me six feet away.

He releases a breath, and I despise the sympathy in it. “It’s her, isn’t it? The witch?”

My jaw is tight. Irritation simmering from someplace deep. “She’s right,” I mutter, not knowing how to tell him that my mother’s regret and hatred cling to my chest so deep, it’s unhealthy.

“About what? Talk to me, Andrews. This isn’t you. You don’t play like shit—even on days she messes with your head. I thought you worked past it.”

I finish tying up my laces.

“You didn’t make captain three months ago and become a projected top five NHL draft pick because you don’t deserve it.”

I swallow, looking up at him, my voice hoarse. “It’s what they all think. That I didn’t earn it.”

“I know you better,” he says tightly. “Coach does. Half the guys on the team do because they’ve been watching you for three years. Doesn’t that count for something? Don’t you give a shit?”

My head drops again. “Hard to give a shit when no one else does.”

I hate sounding so pathetic, but this is what that woman does to me and there isn’t a damn thing I could do to shake it off.

Especially now that everyone’s already decided I’m destined for a Rangers jersey, the same one my dad wore his entire career. Not just where he played—but where he became a legend.

A man I spent my entire childhood trying to be before I lost him. And it backfired. Because now, I am supposed to be him. Same uniform colors. Same city. Same name across the back of my jersey.

Dad’s old agent said if New York ended up drafting me, getting Dad’s number probably wouldn’t be hard. “Easy slip” it into the negotiations.

I hung up on the man for even asking.

He’s not my agent. Not yet. And I’m holding back signing with him as much as I’m holding back on New York.

“Bullshit.” Hunter takes two massive steps and drags me up with one hand, forcing me to the double doors of the locker room. I’m barely dressed when he shoves me out. “You hear that?”

The distant sound of cheers, cries, whistles, and my name echoes in my ears, even from all the way down here.

Christ.

I give another shake of my head and stalk back into the locker room. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, they don’t matter? Their cheers used to be everything to you, Kane. Get that vile woman and the issues that predate you out of your head.” He points to the door. “And listen to them. Every living soul out there says you’re the shit.”

I scoff. “Except for my team.”

And my mother. Who, among other reminders of who I owe my impending success to, told me it’s only a matter of time before everyone realizes I’m a fraud.

Okay. So the woman was drunk. Again. But those were some damn specific words. And not far off what she’s said to me in the past.

And passive-aggressive to everyone she meets.

My son’s going to be a legend, so long as no one confuses him with my late husband.

Hunter releases a thick breath, running his hand through his hair.

I know he gets it. Hunter Beauford’s been through it with me since the beginning.

I didn’t trust many people when it came to my family drama.

But you’d be surprised what quality ice time, a few beers, and a judgement free conversation can do for guys like us.

He opened up first. Turns out I’m not the only dysfunctional rich kid at Northwind U. He’s had to work through family issues of his own. Still does.

He meets my eyes again. “Don’t listen to her, Kane. Listen to them.” He points to the tunnel again. “They’ll give us more love than any of our parents ever could. Even the good ones.”

I nod, not entirely convinced. How long can fan love last? A season? Until you graduate? Until the next named captain?

Hell, I’ll take whatever they give me.

God knows I need that reminder. Need it before every game.

It’s empowering.

To know they believe in me. To know they’re rooting for the win I have in me.

I nod. “Hey, open that door again.”

He smirks and strides back to it, pulling it open. The roar of the crowd filters into the locker room.

Shit’s like music to my ears.

“You plan on suiting up or going out there shirtless?”

I grin back. “If you think it’ll help them scream louder, I’d do it.”

He chuckles. “We all know you love it when they scream your name.”

I grin back and reach for my gear. “I do love that sound.”

He scoops up his stick from the wall. “You and me, both, man. Kinda makes you want to bottle that shit up and keep it in your back pocket.”

Huh.

My lip quirks as a crazy idea takes shape. “Yeah. It kinda does.” My gaze drops to the phone sitting beside me on the bench, silent and dark because I always shut it off before a game.

Wonder what they’d say if they knew I could hear them. Read each and every one of their signs. Take what they’ve been selflessly giving me and put it all into my game.

Powering it on, I look up at Hunter. “Hey, what’s the name of that IT kid we got to program our scoreboards earlier this year?”

Hunter considers it, then frowns. “The coder kid from the engineering department? Fletcher something, I think. Lives in the tech lab at the student library. Only know that because Coach commissioned me to track him down to fix the jumbotron earlier this year.”

“You got his number?” I ask, pushing to my feet as the first spark of confidence kicks in.

Hunter jerks like I’ve offended him. “No.”

“Then you and I are going to pay him a visit tomorrow.” I grin.