11. Drew
ELEVEN
DREW
The dressing room is tense as we all sit and stare at Coach. It’s the last game of the Cup finals and it’s going to decide our fate. Whether we remain champions for a second year in a row or watch Los Angeles hoist the cup.
“Remember, every effort, every win, loss, every game, has brought you to this moment,” Coach Cross says, his eyes meeting each one of us.
“There might be other teams who are content to get this far and maybe they want to win, but they will never want to win as much as us. Remember that. You might be playing against friends tonight and you still need to remember that we’re the defending champions. The Cup remains here. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Coach!”
“Good. I want each of you in his best form tonight. You need to be prepared for all outcomes and don’t forget that we’re there to support you.”
He walks out, followed by the assistant coaches.
“Well, boys, Coach said mostly everything,” I say, standing up. “I know it’s a been a long journey and not fucking easy, but we are here and we’re winners.”
I look at each of them.
“We’re playing for our lives tonight and we’re going to push until we drop. We’re going to fucking win.”
“Yeah!”
“What are we going to do?”
“We’re going to win!”
Someone turns up their music so loud we can’t hear anything else. We’re getting pumped to play our best game of the season.
We’re down to the wire now, two minutes left in a tied game. We brought our A game, but so did Los Angeles. The crowd is at the edge of their seats and if we lose tonight, in our home, the loss is going to sting even more.
Los Angeles’s center has been taking slap shot after slap shot but he should know better than to try to get past Kai. Our goalie is not about to be the reason we lose the game.
Sweat drips down my back and my shoulder aches, but I don’t lose sight of the puck. We’re in a breakout position along the board and I pass the puck to Holden. Los Angeles rushes him, but Reese is along the boards as the puck comes to him, he’s chasing it down the ice into the offensive zone.
We’re down to seconds now as I skate up behind Reese just as Los Angeles’s defense circles him. Reese fakes right where Roman is before passing the puck to me on the left. Just as the seconds trickle down, I take my shot at the net and the puck slides in before their goalie can stop it.
The goal buzzer sounds and the team jumps on me.
The roar of the crowd is deafening. Twenty thousand people, either celebrating or bemoaning their team's loss. The roar of the crowd is nothing compared to the regular season. The victory is as much theirs as it is ours because they’ve supported us through the whole season and during each loss.
Holy fuck. We just won the Stanley Cup.
Winning the Cup never gets old. It’s the highest achievement there is in our sport and winning it is a reminder that I’m competitive as fuck and I love to win. It’s a Callahan trait.
Management is throwing a team party tonight to celebrate our win from yesterday. I walk into the lobby where the party is being held and adjust my tie. Parties aren’t my thing, but as the team captain, I’m not going to let my guys down by not showing up.
There’s a shit ton of media present and if I don’t show up, it’s only going to be fodder for gossip. No one gossips more than sports analysts.
I pause when I hear loud rattling behind me and turn to look over my shoulder. Jules is walking into the lobby on delicate heels. Her pink dress has shells sewn over it which rattle as she walks.
I haven’t seen her since that night at Archer’s. She was gone by the time I came outside and Lavinia had texted Roman to tell him they were having a sleepover at Jules’s apartment.
Jules pauses when she sees me. I can tell she’s thinking the same thing.
I hadn’t been paying her any attention that night because that was the deal we made.
When I saw her talking to that asshole, the stiffness in her posture and the way he was leaning a little too close, there was no way I was going to stay seated.
That fucker tried to touch her.
“I can hear you coming from a mile away,” I say, trying to break the tension.
Jules walks closer, her eyes shining brightly as she looks up at me. Her skin shimmers under the chandelier lights. Her dress molds to her body like it was made especially for her, each curve enticing and seductive.
“One thing I can say with confidence is that you’ll never hear me coming.” Her lips turn up into a cheeky grin and I have to look away, my ears burning with the innuendo.
“What are these shells supposed to do?” I ask.
“It’s giving mermaid.” Jules twists slightly and the shells rattle.
“More like a siren about to lure sailors to their deaths.”
Jules smiles up at me. “I’m flattered.”
“Don’t be. It wasn’t a compliment.” I frown at her.
Jules shrugs, not caring either way. One thing I’ve always admired about her is that she doesn’t care what people think of her. She knows their opinion has nothing to do with her and she lives her life with that belief.
“I…wanted to say thank you.” She stares up at me. “For the other night.”
The truth is, I would have done it for anyone. I probably wouldn’t have felt as angry as I did that night, and that’s a fact I’m going to take to my grave.
“You never have to thank me.”
I start walking towards the ballroom and Jules steps up next to me.
“So what exactly happens at this thing? You sacrifice the blood of virgins?” she asks
I look at her peripherally. “Why? Are you offering?”
“No, just worried about you.”
“No virgins will be harmed, but I did hear about them sacrificing witches once.”
Jules looks up at me, her pink lips pushed into a pout. “Don’t make fun of witches, Andrew, unless you want one to put a curse on you. You might never have sex again.”
The way things are right now, that’s already a very real possibility.
“Why do the witches care about my sex life?” I arch an eyebrow.
“They care about protecting women from bad sex,” Jules retorts.
I pause at the entrance to the ballroom, looking at Juliet and her shimmering skin, the creamy half globes of her breasts over the round neck of her dress.
My eyes meet hers and there’s a faint blush coloring her cheeks.
“It would never be bad sex, Juliet.”
Before she has a chance to reply, I walk further into the ballroom. Lavinia accosts me immediately, leaving Roman’s side to come to mine.
“What were you talking to Jules about?” she asks
“Nothing.”
I stop at the bar and order myself a drink. “Go back to your husband, he looks miserable.”
We both glance at Roman, who looks like he’s just about done with this party and everyone present, on that he and I agree.
“You didn’t say anything to her, did you?” Lavinia asks. There’s a protective undertone to her words.
“Don’t you think if I had, Jules would have taken care of me already?” I sip my whiskey. “You don’t have to protect her, Vin. Jules is capable of fighting her own battles.”
Vin frowns, her eyes finding Juliet in the crowd. She’s talking to Ford and Kai, laughing at something one of them has said. She doesn’t look like someone who needs her best friend to fight her battles.
“You don’t know what Jules needs,” Vin says, with a tone of finality.
I can’t fault that logic.
I look my sister straight in the eyes. Sometimes she feels more like Jules’s sister than mine. “I didn’t say anything to her. Why would you think I did?”
“Just because you two fight a lot and say shit in the heat of the moment,” Vin explains.
“You can say the same about her.”
“I told her to be nice to you! I’m not picking sides.”
Now that, I believe. Lavinia has spent our lives keeping us away from each other rather than picking sides. Vin hooks her arm through mine and pulls me through the crowd to where our parents are talking to David Caine, the owner of the Titans.
“You should be nice to her, too,” she says.
“I’ll be nice if she’ll be nice.”
Lavinia rolls her eyes, knowing that’s an impossible ask. If neither of us takes the first step, we’ll be forever stuck in this cycle waiting for the other to change.
“Sometimes, the two of you act like children,” Vin laments.
“We’re just doing what Aunt Constance says and never growing up.”
Lavinia wrinkles her nose and rolls her eyes, which makes me almost smile at her in return.
We’re close now, and will kill for each other, but as kids, we were like any other pair of siblings who were most likely to kill each other if left to their own devices.
That isn’t to say we never got along. We just fought. A lot.
“You two are siblings who never stopped fighting.” Lavinia shakes her head.
My stomach churns at the thought. “Good thing Jules will never be my sister.”
Lavinia glances at me curiously but she doesn't get the chance to say anything as we near our family.
“There he is, the star captain.” David Caine grins at me proudly, slapping me on the back. “We wouldn’t be here without him.”
“Winning the cup was a team effort,” I say.
There’s something about David Caine I’ve never liked.
Maybe it’s the fact he’s in his sixties and married to a woman who’s the same age as Lavinia and me.
Maybe it’s the fact that he’s always nice to me, but seems to ignore the rest of the team like I’m out there on the ice running this show solo.
Or maybe, it’s the fact that I’ve seen him trying to talk to Sage more than once when all she does is ignore him.
The man is a creep.
“Of course, but where will we be without you?” David smiles up at me and behind him, Roman rolls his eyes. Not sure if it’s praise for me that he can’t stand or David Caine’s sliminess.
I swear he must have given the same spiel to Coach.
I’m sure if he wasn’t married already and into women, he’d make a play for Coach Cross.
As far as David Caine is concerned, Silas Cross can do no wrong.
He’s been a fan since Coach was in college and he did everything in his power to make Coach a Titan.
“A captain is only as good as his team and a great captain makes a great team,” Dad says.