42 - Grayson
Grayson
I hate watching hockey.
It’s ironic considering I’ve dedicated my entire life to playing it, but it turns out I don’t actually enjoy the sport nearly as much when I’m forced to watch everyone else do the job I should be doing.
I should be out there on the ice. I should be helping my team close out a series that should’ve ended days ago instead of watching them clean up a mess I created.
Three games.
Three fucking games of pure torture.
Coach Rylan had been right; the league didn’t care that Woods was an asshole or that I’d never been involved in an on-ice fight before. I dropped my gloves during the conference championship series, and captains are supposed to know better.
And they’re right, so I kept my mouth shut before three games became four or more.
Luckily, I can still go to practice and travel with the team, so I’ve been able to be around, but come game time, my ass is in the team suite watching from afar.
Even still, every time I catch a glimpse of the bruises still blooming across his jaw, a petty little part of me feels satisfied. The rest of me knows it wasn’t worth it, but that petty part still thinks he deserved worse.
Months ago, I would have never thought I’d care about anything more than leading my team to victory. But months ago, I had no idea just how much Avery would mean to me.
For the first time in my life, instead of worrying about holding everything together, all I cared about was her. I’m paying the price for it, and I hate that I let my team down, but that night also ended with Avery telling me she loved me. I honestly don’t know if I’d make a different choice.
She loves me.
Avery Holt, who swore she wanted nothing to do with love or relationships, loves me. It still feels impossible.
Before I can lose myself in the thought of her, the buzzer blares, signaling the start of the second period. The scoreboard hanging over center ice flashes two to two as the game restarts.
It takes exactly one shift before I’m pacing the length of the suite as if wearing a groove into the carpet will help my team score. The back of my knees catch the chair, and I force myself to sit, knowing there’s not a damn thing I can do but watch.
Thirty seconds later, I’m standing again.
Up here, I can see every bad line change or missed assignment. My fingers twitch against my knees as one of the Yeti players cuts through the neutral zone with speed.
“Gap,” I mutter under my breath.
Drew backs in half a stride too far, giving them too much space. They take the shot, but it sails wide of the net. I exhale slowly. Drew still has some work to do, but he’s come so far in only a couple of months.
Beside me, one of my assistant coaches snorts without looking away from the ice. “You know they can’t hear you, right?”
“Yeah, I know.”
“You keep trying to coach them from up here.”
“Pretty sure that’s your job.” My lips twitch, which is as close to a smile as it’s going to get when I’m trapped up here.
“Exactly. Maybe you should leave me to it.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “This is torture.”
“Not supposed to be fun.” He chuckles before settling back into his seat.
A whistle cuts through the arena as a commercial timeout starts. The crowd gets louder as thousands of conversations blend together while I sit quietly, my leg bouncing at hyper speed.
My phone vibrates against my armrest, and I snatch it up, desperate for something to distract me.
Just seeing her message is enough to make me relax.
Chaos: How’s the game?
Me: Tough to watch. I feel like I’m going crazy.
Chaos: Last game before you can play again.
I glance back toward the ice where the officials are still scraping snow from the crease before typing out a response.
Me: Could be the last game of the season if it doesn’t go our way.
Chaos: It will go your way.
Me: Awfully optimistic of you.
Chaos: Maybe these days I’m feeling optimistic.
Me: That’s terrifying.
I smile despite myself.
Chaos: Good, you’re smiling. That’s better.
My brows furrow as I stand and look through the crowd.
“Is this seat taken?”
I turn instantly to find Avery standing in the suite with her hands on her hips, grinning at me. The air leaves my lungs as I take her in, the entire arena disappearing. She has an overnight bag slung over her shoulder and is wearing a Blades jersey with my number on the front.
Her grin widens as she spins a quick circle, showing off my name on her back. Before she’s even finished spinning, I step to her and grasp her face between my hands. When our lips meet, my entire body relaxes.
It’s slow and possessive, our mouths lingering before I remember where we are and what is going on around us.
“How’d you get in here?”
“I guess there are some perks to being the captain’s girlfriend.”
Girlfriend.
God, I’ll never get tired of hearing that.
I kiss her again quickly before we head back to my seat at the front of the suite as the game resumes play.
“What are you doing here?”
I search her face, my heart racing as it plays catch-up to her being here, in New York, completely unexpectedly.
“Well, it’s a short plane ride, and we had an early practice.”
“So, you came to New York to watch the game.”
“No, I came to New York to support you.” Her cheeks turn pink at the confession.
She’s spent my entire suspension being patient with me. Talking to me while I paced holes into my hardwood floors and taking my hand when I spiraled into all of the what-ifs.
She never once told me to get over it. She also never told me it wasn’t my fault because she knew I’d never believe it. She just sat beside me while I carried it. She stayed. And now, she’s here.
For someone who spent months insisting relationships weren’t for her, she’s pretty damn good at being in one.
The realization makes my heart swell.
“I still can’t believe you’re here. I thought I’d have to get through tonight by myself,” I admit, shaking my head while I turn my attention to the game unfolding below us.
Her hand closes around mine. “Regardless of the outcome, I didn’t want you sitting here alone.”
As though flying to a different state because someone you loved might be lonely was the most obvious decision in the world. I look away before she notices how much that answer affects me. I’ve spent years in relationships forcing feelings when it should’ve felt this simple all along.
“You like me,” I tease.
She shoves my arm. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late.”
She rests her head on my shoulder as I focus back on the game unfolding on the ice. My nerves have steadied, and the anxious voice in my head has quieted, most likely due to the redhead curled into my side. Because of it, I’m able to mostly enjoy the game.
It helps that Nathan wins a battle along the boards and passes it off to Liam, who manages to get it past the goalie. The crowd boos, but everyone in my suite cheers.
We watch most of the game in the same type of comfortable silence. Every time my knee starts to bounce, she sets her hand on it to steady me. Every time my hands close into fists at a close play, she grabs them and laces her fingers with mine.
It’s a comfort neither of us has ever quite known, but something I’ve started craving from her since she crashed into my life.
By the time the clock is winding down on the last few minutes of the game, we’re up by two, and the energy is electric.
We’re going to win.
We’re going to have a chance to fight for the Cup, and I’m going to get to fight for it, too.
“There’s no way the Yeti come back from this,” Avery says, standing from her chair as the entire crowd rises to their feet for the last few minutes.
“No, there’s no way,” I agree, the knot in my stomach loosening entirely with the comfort of knowing that I didn’t throw our entire season away.
And in true cockroach fashion, Damon happens to glance up at the box as the clock ticks down and his team loses possession again. Avery lets go of my hand when she meets his eyes. Before I can ask why, she brings both hands up and flips him off. She tops it off with a tongue out.
God, I fucking love this woman.
I chuckle as he spins back to the game, only for the final ten seconds to ring out around him.
Finally, the final buzzer rings out, and it’s official.
“You’re going for the Cup.”
“We’re going for the fucking Cup!”
I grab her and spin her around while she vibrates with laughter. When I set her back down, her eyes gleam with the same excitement I feel.
She snaps out of it and heads for the door. “You have to go. Now.”
“Go? What do you mean?”
“Grayson, go celebrate with your team.”
“But you flew all the way here.”
“Baby, go celebrate with your team. They need their captain, and I think you need a reminder of that.”
I feel like I should stay, but I’m also itching to celebrate with the guys who have fought all season to make this happen.
“You’re sure?”
She nods. “I’m sure.”
I pull her into me hard enough that she laughs, cupping the back of her neck before kissing her like I need one more reminder that she’s actually here.
“Don’t go anywhere.”
She smiles against my mouth. “Not a chance.”
I leave the suite at a jog. Luckily, there’s a private elevator that gets me to the locker room in record time, and by the time the doors slide open, the first players are already filtering through.
Relief hits me the second I see their faces.
They’re exhausted, drenched in sweat, but they’re smiling.
The room floods with teammates, coaches, and trainers all yelling over one another about the win.
Music is already blasting through the speakers before half the guys have even finished taking off their gear, beer spraying through the air as if somebody couldn’t wait another second to start celebrating.
When Wyatt walks through the door, I hook an arm around his shoulders and drag him into a hug despite his lifelong campaign against physical affection. Liam barrels into Nathan, nearly sending them both crashing into a row of stalls.
“Let’s fucking go,” Liam yells as he tosses his other arm around my shoulder. “Four wins until the Cup is in our hands, boys!”
Coach is shaking hands with the training staff, grinning wider than I’ve seen in weeks while the equipment guys start picking up gear that nobody seems interested in putting away.
I take in the scene with Avery’s words rattling through my head.
They need their captain.
For the past week, I haven’t felt much like one, and even now, I don’t fully feel like I deserve to celebrate. I’ve spent three games sitting in the stands while these guys battled to get to this point.
Guilt threatens to pull me under all over again.
“Hey, Grayson, how about a little speech?” Drew snaps his towel at me.
I shake my head.
“Speech.” Liam chants.
“Speech.” Nathan jumps in.
And then, the entire locker room is chanting it. Wyatt shrugs as if to tell me it’s a battle I won’t win.
“Okay, I get it. Damn.” I yell, the room silencing around me.
All eyes land on me as they wait for words of wisdom that I don’t have, so I just start talking.
“For the past week and a half, I’ve felt like I owed all of you an apology.”
“You do,” Liam calls.
Laughter rolls through the room.
I nod. “Fair enough. I let one moment get the better of me, and it cost me three games. It cost me standing beside you while you fought through the hardest stretch of the season, and trust me…” I shake my head. “Watching from the stands is hell.”
More laughter rings out.
“I spent every shift wishing I was out there with you. But sitting up there was also a reminder that you never needed me on the ice to bring home this win.”
I glance around the room.
“Every single one of you stepped up when you had to. You battled through injuries, overtime, bad bounces, and a Game Seven in someone else’s arena. Watching you guys from the outside might’ve been the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I’ve never been prouder to be your captain.”
A few guys clap.
“Nobody expected us to get here. Hell, half the league had us missing the playoffs altogether. Now we’re four wins away from the Stanley Cup. Let’s enjoy tonight, and tomorrow we’ll get back to work. Let’s go kick Denver’s ass.”
The locker room erupts, more beer sprays, and guys start slamming into me from all sides. Coach nods at me from the corner of the room before slipping out with some of the other coaches.
“Well, that was disgustingly inspirational,” Wyatt says, bumping his shoulder into mine.
“Shut up.”
“I’m just saying. It was very captainly.”
“Oh, fuck off.” I grin at him.
“Is it just the win making you all happy or…” Nathan asks.
“My girlfriend may have surprised me by showing up to watch the game with me.”
Liam pretends to gag. “I’ll never get used to you calling Avery your girlfriend.”
“You better figure out how to choke it down.”
“I guess if you’re both happy, I can suck it up.”
Nathan smacks him with a towel. “We’re happy for you. Even if we still can’t quite figure out how it happened.”
“And what happened to the lacy black bra girl?” Liam trails off when I quirk my eyebrow. “God, no. That was Avery? But that was like early February. You kept it a secret for that fucking long?”
“That long,” I confirm.
“Good for you.” Nathan snorts, patting my shoulder.
“I’ve always wondered what kind of bra Avery might wear…” Liam’s words die in his throat when I smack him in the back of the head.
“Well, never fucking wonder again.”
He smirks, and it’s full of his usual cockiness. “Don’t have to wonder at all. I’ve seen it.”
“I’m going to murder you.” I glare at him, only half joking.
“You need me for the Cup.”
“We managed without Nathan. Then we managed without me. I think we might manage just fine without you.”
He throws his hands up. “Okay. Okay. Fine. I will no longer think of Avery in any capacity other than as your girlfriend.”
We all shake our heads.
The rookies start chanting, and the rest of the room joins in. I can’t seem to stop smiling. Less than two weeks ago, I’d walked out of a locker room wondering if I’d ruined everything. Tonight, I walked back into it, remembering that this was never something I carried alone.
In a few days, we’ll have four chances to prove exactly why we belong in the Stanley Cup Final.
Outside these walls, Avery’s is waiting for me.
I have my team.
I have her.
And no matter what happens next, that’s really all I need.