Chapter 17
Elliot
I was tasked with getting to know the new guy.
This was something that Evan would be way more equipped for, but I was venturing out of my comfort zone.
Chuck Matthews had been on the team for a few weeks.
He kept to himself and rarely said more than a few words.
According to the rumor mill, his past teammates didn’t have many positive things to say about him.
I had a feeling there was more to the story.
I could handle a lot, and I had done my best to step into the role of alternate captain in the past few weeks. I was showing up earlier, engaging with my team more often, and now I had a new test: understand our new teammate.
Chuck Matthews was our new defenseman. Late-season trades weren’t typical, but someone up in management made the call, and now we were down one defenseman from the fourth line, and up one that used to be first line for the Snakes.
He fit into our second line just fine, but he wasn’t overly talkative with the team, and there were definitely some improvements we could make.
Going into playoffs, we needed the team as strong as it could be.
Matthews had a reputation for being a bruiser on the ice, and a dick off the ice.
That wasn’t how we played. Coach and Evan wanted me to make sure Matthews knew we didn’t expect that of him, nor would they tolerate it. We were a team, and we needed to act like one.
Evan and I agreed, Matthews would fit in if he just put in the effort. His asshole persona was just that, an act, a persona he put on. There was more to him, I had a gut feeling.
“Drink?” I clapped Matthews on the back where he sat on the bench in the locker room. We had just finished our practice together, and from what I saw on the ice every time Matthews was on the line, he had the skills our team could use. As long as he could stay out of the fights.
“You draw the short straw?” Matthews asked. “You gotta take the newbie out for a drink and lay down the law?”
I shook my head. “Nothing like that.” Well, it was a little bit like that. “C’mon. We’re going for a drink.”
He got up without argument and slung his gear bag over his shoulder.
Matthews rode with me to the bar, and to my surprise, when we sat down at the local sports bar near the arena that was used to players showing up randomly, he ordered a virgin strawberry daiquiri.
I raised a brow as I looked at the hurricane glass filled with the icy, red liquid.
“I don’t drink during the season. But I like smoothies. They make this with real strawberries.”
I blinked at him. “That’s... a new one.” It actually sounded really good. Lately I’d been wanting extra hydration, like I could never get enough protein or water. I was tired, so tired, thanks to the rigorous schedule I kept in order to ensure we made it to the playoffs.
I flagged the bartender down and ordered one for myself. My mouth watered just thinking about the cool strawberry drink.
“So, um, how are you liking Port City so far?” I was shit at small talk, and being nervous wasn’t making it any better.
He fiddled with the napkin in front of him, tearing the corners and shredding the pieces until he had a little pile in front of him.
“It’s okay.” He took a sip of daiquiri.
“Was the trade a surprise? We had no idea it was happening, but we’re happy to have you and your talent here. We—”
“I won’t fight. I’m done with that.” He gripped the side of his glass so hard I was concerned he might break it.
“Oh.” Well, hell, that made my job easier.
I wished I had been able to workshop this conversation with Silas.
He would know exactly what to say and help me not fuck this up completely.
If he were here, I bet he could hold a conversation with Matthews without missing a beat.
He’d make him feel welcome, learn about him, and probably set up a regular pickle ball game or some shit.
He was way better at making friends than I was.
Hell, he knew the names of all our neighbors.
I couldn’t even describe what they looked like.
“That’s great. We, um, we were hoping to talk with you about that. We don’t need the, um, fighting. We like to keep things clean.”
Fuck, I was the worst at this. The bartender returned with my drink. We sat in silence for a while, drinking our daiquiris slowly.
“You were right, this is good,” I said. Before I knew it, I had the whole thing sucked down.
He nodded. Some of the tension seemed to have released from his shoulders.
“Anything else the team should know? We want to get you acclimated onto the team as soon as we can. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but we’re going to win the cup this year, Chuck.”
He snorted. “I don’t actually like being called Chuck. My name is Charles. That’s what a prefer to be called.”
My eyes narrowed. He’d been Chuck since his rookie year, probably before. Had he never thought to tell anyone he preferred Charles? “Great. We’ll call you Charles.”
“Thanks. The trade wasn’t a surprise to me. My coach was a dick who wanted me to fight as much as possible. I’d done it for years without putting up a fuss. But I’m tired of it. Tired of everyone thinking I’m just a bruiser and a jackass. I refused. And now I’m here.”
Damn. Once Matthews got talking, he spilled it all.
“We’re happy to have you,” I said again. We meant it. He was a good player, and so far, he fit in on the ice well enough, but we weren’t satisfied with just enough. We wanted to be the best.
He turned to me, giving me his full attention. “What changed for you this season? Seems like a few weeks ago you turned on the hyper focus and that’s when you started racking up the points.”
Well, shit. He was a talker and he was astute. Great.
“Nothing.” I shrugged it off, like my whole world hadn’t been completely turned on its head this year.
“There had to be something. No one plays hockey like that unless they’ve got something to prove or they’re running from something. Which is it?”
Both. Neither.
I pulled my wallet out and tossed some money on the counter. “Well, I better head out. How about we hit the ice in the morning? We can talk, hash out a few plays?”
“Not going to tell me?” he said. “What if I told you that the reason I wanted to quit fighting was because I was tired of disappointing the only person I ever cared about?”
My jaw clenched. “That sounds like an interesting story.”
“I’ll tell you mine, if you tell me yours.”
Oh, how I wanted to take him up on that. To confide in anyone about Silas would be amazing. But doing so would result in repercussions for both our careers.
“You see that fight that got me and Shaun Seaver ejected from the game last year?” Charles asked.
I did remember. I had been watching the game with Silas. It was one of the rare times that we were both in town without anything on our schedule.
“Yeah.”
“The ref… The way he looked at me when he threw me out. Like I was less than dirt…” He shook his head, his eyes unfocused like he was rewinding the memory and watching it like a reel in his head. “I just didn’t want to disappoint the people important to me, ya know?”
I sighed. “I ended a relationship. That’s why my game has changed.
We can’t be together… for reasons. And it fucking sucks.
I’m playing the best hockey of my life, and for what?
To go home to an empty apartment? For a cup?
Don’t get me wrong, I want it. I want it so bad, but fuck…
after the game, after the parties, I’m just going to go home and be alone.
” The thought haunted me, filled me with a dread that kept me up at night.
Not that I was going to tell anyone that.
Hockey was the most important thing in my life, wasn’t it? I’d made the right choice. Hadn’t I?
Did I even have a choice?
Charles clinked his glass against mine. “To the cup. May it bring us everything we ever wanted. Or at least make us realize what we really wanted all along.”