CHAPTER TWELVE
SAM
I slam my stick against the wall and drop onto the bench in front of my locker.
“We won, Anderson.” Ollie chuckles from beside me. “Players are usually happy about that.”
I glare over at him, and he lifts his hands in front of his body in surrender.
“Okay …”
We beat the Avalanche tonight. I even scored a goal, but basically by default. I was standing in front of the net, and the puck ricocheted off me, so I got credit for the slapshot Ollie hit. I also ended up in the bin two times and dropped my gloves when that asshole Robinson from the other team checked me into the wall so hard that my ears were ringing. I retaliated by giving him a shiner that will take a couple of weeks to fade. He’ll remember me every time he looks into the mirror until it’s gone. It was worth it even though I eliminated myself from the rest of the third period by doing it.
The coaches took one look at my angry expression earlier and declared I wasn’t going to do interviews tonight. They didn’t want me to. The last thing I need is to make my already-tarnished reputation even worse with the media. So, they sent me straight into the locker room.
I throw my soiled uniform into the large hamper and hit the showers. I’m one of the first players in and the last out tonight. I want the room to clear out before I dress and leave.
I’ve been spiraling ever since Mads paid me a visit at the arena yesterday. She was so self-righteous as she informed me that she was working PR for the Hawks these days. Straight out of college, and she gets a position with a professional hockey team. I’m sure she got the job because of Ollie. Nepotism at its best. She followed that up with a detailed description of how far in the toilet my reputation is these days, as if I didn’t already know.
Haskas has been trashing me all over the league. And the hockey world is small. You find out just how tiny it is when you mess up. My agent told me a commercial I was in the running for has now fallen through. And two of my sponsors aren’t sure if they want to continue an affiliation with me. But here’s the thing … his daughter came onto me. And I didn’t know who she was when we hooked up. That truth should count for something. Unfortunately, it doesn’t. And people are more interested in the scandal than they are the details.
I walk into the locker room with a towel around my waist. Two of the trainers are still around, collecting equipment and packing it for our next game tomorrow night. And Ollie. He’s fully dressed, sitting and tying one of his shoestrings.
“Are you waiting for me?” I ask with an edge to my tone.
I don’t feel like talking tonight, especially to him. Ollie’s connected to Madison. He’s guilty by association, as far as I’m concerned.
His brows rise when he glances up. “As pleasant as you are to talk to tonight, no, I’m not waiting for you. I had a couple of things to go over with Coach. I’m leaving now.” He rises, grabs his things, but pauses. “Do you need me to wait for you?”
“No,” I grumble, throwing off the towel and dressing.
Ollie irritates me by chuckling.
“Now, you’re pissing me off,” I spit.
His chuckle deepens into a full-blown laugh. He sits on the bench again. “All right … spill it.”
My forehead wrinkles in irritation. “Spill what?”
“Whatever it is that’s crawled up your ass tonight.”
I huff out a breath. “Don’t start with me, Ollie. I don’t need a counseling session. And you’re not the captain of this team.” Yet.
But with the way all the other guys look up to him, you wouldn’t know Ollie isn’t the official captain of the Hawks. He’s a natural-born leader. And he’s a good guy on top of that. It’s annoying as hell.
“You should talk about whatever’s bothering you before you explode. I don’t want you getting kicked out of the game tomorrow. We need you for all three periods.”
I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans and out again, my movements irritated and jerky. “You know exactly what I’m pissed about.”
Yesterday, Mads informed me that the team is insisting on a companion to make sure I behave the rest of the season. A companion . A babysitter . That my position on the team is dependent on it. In other words, I don’t have a choice. I’m sure she’s been waiting since the moment that Oakley and I broke up to get back at me like this. I could see it written all over her smug face.
“Yeah, I know,” he admits. “You’re mad because you’re getting a sitter for the rest of the year.” He chuckles again.
I glare at him, seeing no humor in the situation.
“The way I see it, you earned a sitter,” he says, like it’s so simple and acceptable.
We stand, and I reluctantly start walking toward the exit with him. Ollie slaps a hand on my shoulder. I shrug him off.
He grins. “Let’s go out. Let me buy you a beer. Maybe a drink will wipe that sour expression off your face.”
“Not likely,” I retort.
But I find myself agreeing even though he’s annoying the shit out of me right now. Only because it sounds even less appealing to go back to an empty apartment tonight. Although maybe I should take advantage of the solitude since it sounds like I’ll have a roommate I never asked for soon.
We take a rideshare to a local hole-in-the-wall bar, where we won’t cause as much of a stir after our game tonight. I’ve heard that the owner’s good about helping us keep a low profile.
Ollie and I arrive, sit in a corner booth, and drink the IPA on tap, only getting approached by a couple of people in the process. We take a few pictures and shake a few hands, finally trading out the booth for the pool table in the back.
We don’t talk about my situation again, sticking to easier topics instead. But about halfway through the game of pool, I ask a question that’s been on my mind since I arrived in Chicago.
“I was shocked when the Hawks picked me up. I was even more surprised to learn that you had something to do with it.” I lean forward and line up my shot, knocking a yellow striped ball into the side pocket. “Why’d you do it? I always thought you hated me.”
Ollie is perched against the wall with his cue stick loosely gripped inside his hand, watching me shoot. “I did.”
I chuckle, realizing he’s only partially kidding. “So, what changed?”
“You stopped dating my sister,” he admits honestly and without hesitation.
I reach for my beer and take a big gulp. “You didn’t have the same reaction when Chase started dating her.”
“That was different.”
“Different how?” I ask. I miss the next shot. “Because I hadn’t been friends with you for most of my life?”
“It had nothing to do with that. You were never serious about Oakley,” he says before lining up the next shot and drilling a solid into the corner pocket. He grabs the chalk and rubs it over the end of the stick. “And she was crazy about you.”
“That’s not true,” I balk. “I was serious about Oak. We dated for almost a year.”
He gives me a look.
“I was serious, at first,” I insist, but it has less force behind it.
“You were a selfish little shit back in the day.” He leans down for another shot. “I don’t know; maybe you still are. But either way, you weren’t right for her. I know it, and you know it. And I didn’t want you with my sister, bottom line.” He drills another shot.
“And Chase is right for her?” I challenge him.
He pauses from his position over the table and raises his eyebrows. His expression is serious and stony. “Yes.” He shoots, and another ball falls into the pocket. “Chase has loved Oakley all his life. He knows everything about her. And he’d do anything for her.” He pins me with a hard stare as he rises to his full height. “What was Oakley’s favorite restaurant in high school? What about her favorite color? Her favorite flower?”
I stay silent because I don’t know any of those things. And he knows I don’t know. He’s making his point. I think back to the coffee Chase was pouring for her years ago in our kitchen in college. He knew exactly how she liked it. It’s such a simple thing, but I never paid attention to those little details.
“Okay,” I sigh. “Point taken.”
“Look,” Ollie starts, “you and I have had our differences in the past. But I think you’re a good guy, Sam. Way down deep.”
We both smirk.
“And I know you’re a great hockey player. I wanted you here, and I made it known. You’re an asset to this team. Just because you weren’t right for my sister doesn’t change any of that. And just because you’ve acted like an idiot off the ice ever since doesn’t mean you won’t be a force in the arena.”
The compliments are hidden beneath the insults, but I’ll take what I can get. I don’t say it, but it’s nice to know that someone on the team thinks I’m more than a few of my past mistakes—despite the delivery. Especially someone of Ollie’s caliber. He still annoys me with his perfect persona. But underneath it all, I respect the hell out of him.
We’re silent through the rest of our game, concentrating on each shot and nursing our beers. When the game is finished, we settle up at the bar and walk outside. The cold night air cuts through the sweatshirt I’m wearing.
“What do you think about this … companion thing?”
“I think you don’t have a choice. That if you want to be a part of this team—or any team—you’ll take your medicine like a good boy.”
The rideshare we ordered pulls up to the curb.
He opens the door, but doesn’t get in. “And I think you need to remember that actions have consequences. The things you do off the ice matter almost as much as the things you do on it—at least to the suits. And they’re the ones making the decisions. You messed up. You got caught. And now, you’re paying the price. The circumstances don’t really matter. So, settle up and get on with it.” He slides in. “You can always change the narrative.”
“You sound like a self-help book,” I joke as I follow him inside the vehicle, “a messed-up version.”
I won’t show it, but I appreciate his words. They soften some of the trepidation inside my chest.
We change the subject, talking about our upcoming game and hockey strategies on the drive home, and stay away from more delicate topics.
What I don’t say to Ollie—what I haven’t said to anyone—is that I know I’ve made bad decisions. I know this situation is my fault, that I’ve gotten lost somewhere along the way. But for some reason, so far, I can’t find it within myself to care enough to pull myself out of the pit.