4. Drew
FOUR
DREW
The cold air in the arena bites into my skin but the heat of the play keeps me warm.
I’m on the bench, waiting on Coach Cross to call the line change.
I keep my eyes trained on the ice as I watch Ford Everett, our defenseman, perform a breakout.
He steals the puck from the New York Renegades in the defensive zone and passes it to Reese Miller, our left winger, along the boards.
Reese is skating down the ice, ready to make the goal when Ryder Campbell swoops in and swipes the puck out from under him. The boos and cheers of the crowd roar around us.
“Smug asshole,” Holden mutters next to me, as Campbell skates past the benches.
“Focus!” I command, my voice sharp.
The problem isn’t Holden’s lack of focus. It’s that he’s focused on the wrong thing on the ice, which is Ryder Campbell. We’re going to lose if he doesn’t get his head in the game.
Coach Cross is standing behind us, talking to Assistant Coach Moore. I glance over my shoulder, noticing the tight set of their jaws. The game is 1-3, in favor of the Renegades. It’s only the second period, so there’s still time for us to turn this around.
It’s the first game of the playoffs for us and I’m not about to fucking lose to the Renegades.
“Campbell’s out for blood, but the only victory that’s going to count is when our team comes out the winner,” I say.
“You can fight with him tonight, but how are you going to feel tomorrow knowing he’s won the game and all you could do was draw a little blood?”
“Damn, Cap. You don’t gotta do me like this,” Holden says.
“Just keep your head on your shoulders.”
Being the captain of the Titans is a responsibility I take very seriously. Mostly because I’m still not sure I deserve it, a year into holding the title. When Coach Cross told me the team had chosen me as their captain, I’d been shocked and oddly embarrassed.
I’d thought about telling my father that I now hold the same position he once did as captain of the Boston Titans.
I wondered how he’d react and knew immediately he’d be proud of me.
Trying to live in the shadow of the great Aiden Callahan isn’t easy when you’re also a hockey player.
It’s not easy when your twin sister is also a hockey player and a gold medalist at that.
It’s not easy when you’ve always been second best.
Being captain of the Titans is a responsibility I don’t want to fuck up because this isn’t just about me. It’s about the team and it’s about the fans who’ve always supported us, even when we failed.
Reese and Ford skate close to the bench, ready for line change. Holden and I step on the ice and I’m not even a little surprised when he goes after Campbell.
One thing I can always rely on with my team, they always listen. Holden swipes the puck from Campbell, skating towards center ice. He passes the puck to me and as soon as the Renegades d-man gets on me, I pass the puck to Roman.
He’s fast, skating close to the goal. He shoots the puck and the goalie moves to save, but the puck sails past his pads and into the net.
The roar of the crowd is deafening. Holden hugs Roman in excitement and I bump my fist against his. The time for celebrating will come later when we win. We’re one step closer, but the game can turn at any minute.
****
Archer’s, the pub owned by Holden’s family, is our go to spot after a game. The crowd is loud tonight, reveling in our win. Holden, Reese, and Kai are by the pool table and I watch as a group of women make a bee-line to them.
Kai looks uncomfortable at the attention and it’ll be only a moment before he comes back to the table. Nothing makes Kai go back into his shell faster than female attention.
Ford sets a beer down in front of me and settles into the booth. “Why the fuck are you brooding when we’ve just won the game?”
“By the edge of our teeth,” I remind him. “Winning by one goal is hardly something to celebrate. What the hell was that in the third period? The Renegades goalie was wide open and you missed the goal.”
Ford sits back, spreading his arms along the back of the booth. His usually broody face has a small smile on it now, grey eyes almost black in the dim lights.
“That’s the difference between you and me. I don’t stress about small things,” he says easily.
I cross my arms, sitting back. My eyes shift behind him and I frown. “What’s Sage doing here?”
I’m surprised he doesn’t crack his neck with the way he whips around to look behind him. Slowly, I pick up my beer and take a sip as Ford turns around to glare at me.
Sage, part of the Titans PR team, isn’t here. I walked her to her car after the game and the interviews were over and watched her drive off towards her apartment. With the way Ford reacts to her, I suspect he’s harboring a massive crush and it’s interesting to see my friend speechless around her.
“Asshole,” Ford grumbles.
“That’s what you get for treating the game like it means nothing,” I respond.
“I don’t treat it like it means nothing,” Ford says. “I already know you’re going to review the game tape and tell me step by step where I went wrong. I’d rather celebrate the win tonight.”
I keep my mouth shut. He’s not wrong. I will be reviewing the tape as soon as I can and I will be discussing with Coach where we missed. Though, being a good captain also means letting the team celebrate their win and not bringing them down by reviewing their mistakes.
I’ll have time to discuss the game tomorrow night at family dinner. Between Dad and Lavinia, there will be plenty of opinions on what we could have done differently. Since they’re both legendary hockey players, it’s hard to ignore their advice and tune out their voices when I’m on the ice.
“No one’s stopping you from enjoying tonight,” Ford says. He looks around the pub meaningfully, his eyes lingering briefly on the women looking in our direction. A couple of them smile invitingly when our eyes meet and I look away, focusing on my beer.
“I’m already enjoying myself,” I tell him.
You know what I feel when a woman smiles at me in invitation, flirts with me, or tells me she wants me in her bed? Absolutely nothing. I don’t even feel a modicum of interest. There’s not even a consideration that I might want to spend time with her, no matter how smart, kind, or beautiful she is.
“You’re wasting away.” Ford shakes his head, looking at me like he’s disappointed that I’m wasting my potential.
I scoff. “I’m not wasting away. I’m just not interested in a one night stand.”
“If you won’t even talk to them, how do you know it’s going to be a one night stand?”
I don’t want to tell him how uninterested I am in talking to anyone. That even the idea of talking to someone, a woman, makes me want to never go out again.
“Why don’t you go talk to them?” I suggest.
“They’re not interested in me.” Ford shrugs easily. “They want you.”
“Did they tell you that?”
“I can see it in their eyes, how they lust after you.”
I sip my beer, nodding along to him. “I’m sure a few of them want you, too. Don’t put yourself down like that.”
“I’ll survive knowing you’re taken care of.”
“I can take care of myself,” I say. “I worry about you, though. Hey, Sage.”
Ford rolls his eyes. “I’m not falling—”
He chokes on his beer as Sage appears at our table, looking much more relaxed out of the suit she’d been wearing and now in a pair of jeans and a top. Her long dark hair has been released from its ponytail and now hangs loosely down her back.
I had Ford a napkin, quirking an eyebrow at his coughing fit. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he says, voice scratchy. “Beer went down the wrong pipe.”
Yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly what happened. Sage gives him a cursory once over, just enough to make sure he’s not dying. She turns to me, wide brown eyes gazing at me softly.
For a second, I try to imagine what it’d feel like to be interested in her as more than a friend or someone who gets paid to maintain our image. I tell myself to forget that my best friend has a crush on her. Sage is beautiful, she’s smart, kind, and generous. I like talking to her.
Even so, something about the idea of asking her out on a date makes me recoil. This seemingly perfect woman doesn’t do anything for me.
“Have you seen Vin?” Sage asks.
I shake my head. “I didn’t even know she was coming.”
“She texted me earlier and confirmed they’re here,” Sage says.
They’re here. When my sister says they’re here, it almost always means her and Jules. Two peas in a pod. Sometimes I think they’re twins rather than me and Vin. Before I can reply that I haven’t seen either of them, a bare arm wraps around Sage’s shoulder.
“Sage!” Reese says, gleefully. Unsurprisingly, he’s removed his shirt and his muscled torso is on full display. In his rookie year, I thought he did it for attention from women. Slowly, I realized that Reese is just allergic to clothes. He likes freedom of movement.
“Hi, Reese,” Sage says, like she’s talking to a very excited child.
“Do you have any summer plans?” Reese asks. “Other than celebrating our championship.”
“Don’t fucking jinx us,” Ford grumbles.
Reese waves him off, looking at Sage expectedly.
“My plans involve moving into my new house and spending time with my daughter and cousin.”
Sage moved here last year from the West Coast, but her daughter and cousin are still there, packing up their old house while Sage looks for a new one here.
“Have you closed on a house?” I ask.
“I actually just put in an offer on one that would be perfect for the three of us so I’ve got my fingers crossed.”
“Where is it?” I ask.
When she tells me about the neighborhood, I say, “That’s close to my house. I walk by it everyday when I take Bailey out.”
“I’m sure you’ll get it,” Reese says confidently. “This is a sign. Come on, let’s share the good news with Jules.”
“Wait,” Sage says, holding back. She looks at me expectantly. “Can I stop by the camp this summer for photo-ops? It will be great press.”