3. Chapter Three
Chapter Three
Steven
The smell of fresh coffee wafting from The Bleacher Bean calls to my sleep-addled brain, and a sigh of relief escapes. Through the window I catch sight of my mom’s bright smile and animated expression, and some of the ache in my heart eases.
But then I see her, and my hand freezes halfway to the handle. A bowling-ball-sized weight slams into my chest, making it hard to breathe.
“So when are you going to send your questionnaire to ‘Emma’?”
She kissed me…like that. And told me she didn’t want me.
My gut plummeted, and if I hadn’t been leaning on the counter I would’ve hit the floor.
After walking Scarlett to her apartment, I changed, then ran until my muscles screamed. But every stride still carried the imprint of her lips. The cherry scent of her lip balm, the way she melted into me.
On repeat.
As if feeling me staring, the woman tormenting me turns, her gaze locking on mine. The corner of her lips dip before she pulls her lip between her teeth. Her troubled hazel eyes ask a question I’m not sure I have an answer to.
“Are we okay?”
Yes?
No?
Maybe?
Never breaking eye contact, I pull open the door and blow out a breath. The soft tingle of bells announces my entrance, drawing my mom’s attention to me.
“Hey honey.” Her bright smile cuts through the thick tension between me and Scarlett. “You look like you desperately need your regular.”
“With an extra shot, please.”
Her brows pull together, and my gut knots. “Did you not sleep well?”
“Was up late reading the Wolverines playbook.” A sharp punch hits my gut when her face relaxes.
“Uncle Dunky will be happy with your efforts, Bennett.” Scarlett’s hand lands on my shoulder, and my body stiffens, causing her to frown. Internally cursing, I force myself to smile and nudge her gently.
“We both know what he’s like when he’s not happy. And I don’t have the ability to charm him like you do.”
Her shoulders visibly relax, and a teasing glint fills her eyes. “This is true.”
Scarlett’s gaze holds mine, and she mouths. “Can we talk later?”
Swallowing hard, I nod.
“Here you go, you two.” My mom places two cups on the counter. “No better way to start your day than with me, a favorite cup of coffee, and your best friend.”
A nervous giggle escapes Scarlett, and my mom’s gaze bounces to her.
Leaning over the counter, I place a kiss on my mom’s cheek. Then I grab my coffee and head for the door. “I’ll talk to you later. Don’t want to be late for practice.”
“Are you going to Moretti’s with your brothers later?” My mom shouts as I cross the threshold.
“Probably.” Holding the door, I glance back to find two sets of eyes watching me—one questioningly, the other soft and searching. A sharp thrill runs through me at the latter. “Are you heading to the bakery?”
“Yeah.” Scarlett grabs her cup and takes a sip before walking toward me.
Pulling the door open, I step aside, making sure there isn’t any accidental touching. But it’s not far enough—her vanilla and cinnamon scent fills my nostrils, the same body lotion she’s used since high school. “Bye, Mom.”
The muffled chime sounds behind me. Scarlett is off to the side waiting, sipping her coffee, but the weight of her gaze is heavy.
“Are you nervous?” She falls into step next to me as we walk the thirty yards between The Bleacher Bean and Duncan’s Donuts For Dogs. Her arm brushes mine, and my muscles tense like a stray puck to the gut.
I shrug a shoulder. “Not really.”
Reaching the bakery, Scarlett fiddles with her keys, and the silence between us thickens. “Steven?”
Taking a gulp of my coffee, I glance up. “Yeah?”
Her eyes swirl with emotions; she chews her lip, drawing my attention to her mouth. I exhale sharply, bringing my gaze back to hers, only to have her look down before murmuring. “Good luck today.”
My throat tightens. “Thanks, Scar,” my voice is gruff as I push the words past a dry mouth. “I’ll see you later.”
Without waiting for a reply, I head to my car. Shamrocks and painted pots of gold on the store display windows barely register.
With both hands I toss my duffel in the back seat, and glance up to find Scarlett still watching me. I lift my hand in farewell. As I slide the key into the ignition, my grip tightens on the steering wheel. I slowly exhale and pull away. It’s just another day.
Scarlett stays in the rearview mirror until I turn onto the highway.
Thirty minutes later, I’m climbing out of my car and grabbing a duffel that feels heavier than when I put it in.
“Bennett.” That voice is the last one I want to hear with the mood I’m in. I forgot Declan Graham was on the Wolverines. I clench my jaw as he slaps me on the shoulder. “Am I the first to greet you?”
Grinding my teeth, I suck in a deep breath. I have little tolerance for Graham on a normal day, but today, I have none. “I’m unhappy to say you are, Dec.”
“Aww, don’t sound so disappointed.” He steps in front of me, a cocky grin on his face. That goading glint in his eyes. “I plan to show the coaches you were the wrong player for this team.”
Scoffing, my lip curls up. “Bring it.”
Graham and I stare at each other; he narrows his eyes, and grins. “It’s gonna be fun,” he shouts over his shoulder, walking toward the player’s entrance. “Just like old times.”
Once he’s inside, I stop and rub my temple, a dull throb nagging.
“Bennett,” A gruff voice yells out, and I feel the muscle in my cheek jump as I look at the hood of the car next to me. “Are you trying to get yourself killed on your first day?”
“Sorry, Coach.” Lifting my hand, I make my feet move and follow the path Declan just took.
Duncan James, Wolverines assistant coach and Scarlett’s uncle, is someone I’d like to avoid for as long as possible today. But the hand on my shoulder tells me that’s not going to happen.
“You look exhausted, Bennett. Rough travel day yesterday?”
Yeah, let’s go with that.
“A bit.” Coach holds the door, and I cross over the threshold. The sharp, clean smell mixed with male sweat and hockey bags settles my rolling stomach. “It took me a while to fall asleep too.”
“Did my niece keep you up?” My heartbeat stumbles. “She was telling my wife how she wanted you to help her with something.”
I nearly choke, and then almost fall when he pats me on the back. Hard.
“Uh…no,” Catching my balance, I roll my neck. That annoying pinch at my temple is growing. “I saw her when I first got in, but then called it an early night.”
“Nerves,” he grunts. “ I remember when I was traded. It took a little time to get adjusted.”
I nod.
“You’ll be fine. Don’t worry about going too hard today. Give yourself a day to settle in. Meet your teammates.”
“Will do.”
Duncan heads left, and I make my way over to the locker room, the male voices of my new teammates carrying throughout the empty arena.
One side of my mouth curves at the teasing I can hear from here. But once I enter, the banter stops.
“Bennett!” Turning toward the voice, I see Elias Eriksson, Wolverines Center and Captain, motioning for me to follow him. “Here’s your locker.”
When I see where he’s pointing, I can’t help but notice Declan Graham standing right next to it, and I huff out a groan.
“Problems?”
“Nope. This is perfect.” I shake my head. Normally I’d be much better at keeping my expression neutral.
A snort escapes next to me, and I grind my teeth.
“What about you, Graham? Problem?”
“Nope. Bennett and I are old friends, right, Steven?”
“Yup.” If it’s possible to be friends with the person who betrayed me, then yeah. The best of friends. “Just stay on your side,” I mumble, and Declan laughs.
“You got it.” He nudges my elbow, then whispers, “How’s Scarlett? Is she still single?”
My fingers curl before I catch myself, and he snorts. “Oh yeah, I’m going to enjoy this.”
Pulling my shoulders back, I slowly empty the contents of my duffel into the locker. I refuse to let Declan Graham throw me off my game.
Six hours later, my arm shakes as I rub a towel against my damp hair and make my way to my locker. The quiet space is welcome after what was a horrible introduction to my new team.
Tomorrow I need to do better.
Reaching my locker, my steps slow. This positioning is a nightmare.
I know why Cap did it, but it was the last thing I needed to deal with today.
I don’t have to like it, but I do need to learn how to play and call a truce with Declan.
We’re both on the same side of the line and need to work together as a unit.
I have to figure out how to trust him again. Just on the ice, even if it’s the last thing I want to do.
Raking a hand through my damp hair, I throw on a Wolverines hoodie and a pair of sweats. Digging my fingers into the side of my head, I groan as another throb of pain hits.
Lowering on the bench, I rest my head in my hands and gently knead my scalp.
Laughter echoes from Coach’s office, and I immediately recognize my brother Wyatt’s. The weight that’s been sitting on my chest all day lifts.
“We won’t keep him out late; we just want to make sure he gets a good meal.” My other brother, Miles, says, and Coach grumbles
Miles mumbles something in response, just as I walk up behind Wyatt and lift him in a bear hug.
“Whoa, little brother.” Wyatt turns, his eyes gleaming. “You don’t want to injure yourself on the first day.”
“Ha. Ha.” I laugh before he pulls me in for a hug. “What are you two doing here?”
Mile grins at me before wrapping me up. “Do you really have to ask?”
My brow quirks, “Moretti’s?”
“Moretti’s,” Wyatt confirms with a nod.
“It’s tradition.” Miles tugs me in for a side hug, and for the first time today a real smile crosses my lips, while the knot in my shoulders loosens. “You do look awful, though. Everything okay?”
Glancing over my shoulder, I see Coach looking at some paperwork on his desk. My eyes land on Miles. “Yeah. Just adjusting to being back home.”
“Scarlett keep you up talking all night?”
My eyes widen slightly, and my brothers give each other a questioning glance but don’t say a word.
Wyatt wraps his arm around my shoulder and starts to move me out of Coach’s office. “All you need is a good meal, some time with your brothers, and you’ll be as good as new.”
Rolling my eyes at him, I scoff, “Yes, the answer to all the troubles in the world.”
“Wait,” Miles turns, sticking a hand out. “What troubles?”
“Slip of the tongue,” I smack his hand away and manage a weak smile. “Let’s head out. I’m starv—”
“Bennett,” Coach James calls.
“Yeah, Coach?” I jog back to his office and slap my hand on the doorframe, grinning, only to find the assistant coach not looking up.
“Make sure to get some rest tonight. You’re not going to be any good to us if you look like you did today on the ice.”
My gut tightens, and I nod. “Roger that.”
Turning and making my way to my locker, I hear Coach grumble. “Enjoy dinner.”
“Troubles?” Wyatt mouths and points at the assistant coach’s office, assuming that it’s all about hockey.
“At dinner,” I mouth back, grabbing my things.
Turning toward my brothers, I see them reading the name on the locker next to mine.
“Definitely trouble,” Miles whispers, snorting. “Dinner is going to be good. And not just the food.”
“Ha!” I pull at the back of my neck.
They have no idea.