“In the early summer, I was brought on to create a new social media vision for the team, and train their social media manager on how to execute it,” I tell him. “Then she went out on medical leave, so I agreed to help out until she’s back.” I glance at Aidan and then back at Max. “So it’s kind of funny that I didn’t realizeDannyis Aidan Renaud.”
Max chuckles. “Yeah, I guess, why would you have? You probably assumed he was Danny Heinberg?”
“Exactly.”
“Your teammates must have been surprised that you two are related,” Max says to Aidan.
Before he can respond, I say, “We haven’t said anything to them, and we don’t plan to.”
Next to me, Aidan stiffens but I’m not sure why. This is exactly what he said in the elevator that first day in the Rebels’ office: that there was no reason my friends needed to know he’s my stepbrother. And if he told his teammates, my friends would all know too, and they’d quickly put two and two together. The only way for no one to find out we’ve slept together, is to keep our stepsibling status a secret.
Aidan’s grip on my thigh tightens. Just like on the walk back from the restaurant the other night, he can’t seem to keep his hands off me.
But we’re only friends, so I glance at him, hoping he understands my meaning loud and clear when I say, “I don’t like to blur personal and professional lines.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
AIDAN
“Renaud!” Our head coach, Charlie Wilcott, motions me over to where he’s standing at the edge of the rink, clipboard in hand, as he watches us doing drills. Behind him, AJ stands at our bench.
I skate over, coming to a stop in front of him, and pull off my helmet. “Yeah, Coach?”
“You think anymore about the alternate captain position? We need to make an announcement soon.”
My gaze flicks to where AJ stands next to him.
“Honestly, I’m still conflicted.”
“Why’s that, son?” he asks. He’s the kind of coach who makes you feel like you’re part of the family. I came on the team at the same time he did, and even though he was also new, he made me feel welcome from my first day. I improved more as a player in the years I played for him, before my injury, than I’d developed in all the years before that.
There’s been a lot of speculation over the years about what the media calls “The Wilcott Effect”—why his players develop so quickly and his team makes it to the Stanley Cup Playoffs yearly. But the answer is simple, really. He encourages you to be a better player, and then refuses to let you settle for anything less thanyour best. It makes me think of what AJ said a couple weeks ago: Sometimes, all people need in order to reach their potential is an invitation.
“I’ve been so focused this past year on getting back to playing, and I promised myself that there’d be no distractions. That I’d be singularly focused on being the best player I can be.”
“What if being the best player you can be means stepping up in other ways, too?” Coach asks, his head cocked as he watches me consider his question.
“I’m just not sure if being in a leadership position, being a role model on the team, is the kind of player I am.”
“That’s too bad,” he says, my response clearly disappointing him. “Because, especially with Colt retiring at the end of the season, our team could use more leaders. We can always find someone else to take your position, but we’d really like it to be you.”
I glance between them, trying to figure out if by “your position” they mean my position on the team, or the leadership position they’ve already decided should be mine. Could be either, honestly, since I’m in the last year of my contract. I’d really like to re-sign with the Rebels, and not have the long, drawn out contract process McCabe had last year.
“You’re already going to have to change your brand of playing, Renaud,” AJ says, and I can tell just by her voice that she’s trying to deliver this news gently. “Being the best hockey player you can be, and being a good teammate at the same time, will mean you’realreadyright for the alternate captain role.”
I wonder again if this is AJ’s way of keeping me in line, and I’m tempted to tell her that the real reason I’m so hesitant here is that I don’t know if the guys on the team see me as captain material. It’s hard to know. While they’ve welcomed me back enthusiastically, the vibe of the team has shifted in a way that leaves me feeling like the ice is shifting beneath my feet.
Perhaps this is my coach and GM’s way of smoothing that transition, making me feel like an integral part of the team rather than an outsider stepping back in? Or maybe I’m just overthinking the fuck out of this, as I’m liable to do.
“All right,” I say, hoping I don’t regret this choice.
Coach claps a hand onto my shoulder pads, giving me a shake. “Good choice, Renaud.”
“We’ll tell the team at the end of practice today,” AJ says, “and announce it publicly right after.” She glances across the ice where Morgan is standing with the social media intern, and motions her over. It’s taken every ounce of my willpower not to glance over at her every time I’m not involved in a drill or a play, but I keep reminding myself:No distractions.
Now that they’re making me a captain, it’s more important than ever.
“I should get back to practice,” I say, shaking the sweat from my hair before putting my helmet back on.
