He’s the type of guy I can trust with my eyes closed, the one who gets you out of jail in the middle of the night.
His bulky stature might fool people, but he’s the softest and most caring guy of us all.
His voice rings in my head, reminding me thatthis night out is for team bonding and not sulking with a glass of beer after a woman who wants nothing to do with me. So, being the one who wears a C on his jersey, I get my shit together and tune into the conversation at our table.
As if sensing my awareness, Sebastian chirps, “Ezra, your winning goal was so damn clean. It was fire!” The awe and enthusiasm in his voice make an involuntary smile sneak up on my lips. He’s a good kid and an even better winger.
I’ve been in his shoes, looking up at my seniors like they were heroes. It’s surreal to see how they now think of me as a hero. That I’m the one who sets the precedents my team follows.
That, and the title of captain, come with far greater responsibilities than I know how to handle. But I’m glad my boys are good and make it easy for me.
I raise my half-finished glass at him. “Thanks, rookie. Your assist with that was crucial.” I wink at him for good measure. His eyes light up at my acknowledgment.
This is the reason we’re in this seedy bar,Holly’s, tonight. To motivate the guys and keep up the good work. Bonding, understanding, andrespect for each other are equally important on and off the ice. If you can’t make it work when hanging out, then playing together proves to be a challenge.
Holly’sis perfect for that. It’s our go-to spot whenever we’re in Seattle for a game. The wooden structure, yellow lights, and black and white photos hanging on the wall emphasize its rustic and vintage vibe.
The jukebox in the corner is playing old music, which could barely be heard over the slurred arguments of patrons who have long crossed their liquor holding threshold.
Customers hardly recognized us as they spent another night in their rumpled clothes in a bar where cigarette smoke hung low, curling into the air in lazy, oppressive swirls.
My center, Oliver, places his arm over Seb’s shoulder and ruffles the kid’s hair. “Yeah, rookie. You’re the man.” Everyone at the table laughs at their display of affection and continues pulling each other’s legs.
Soon, the team is wiped, and we all take our leave. Seb leaves with a curvy brunette, and I shake my head at him with a smirk. Can’t say that I blame him. I was once theexact same.
Not anymore, though.
My gaze again finds our Social Media Manager, Kaeli, where she’s still engrossed with that dude, her arm all over his.
Why do I want to deck that dude in the face?
Noah saves me from a PR scandal as he steers me to our hotel, where we are paired up in the same room.
Damn it. I hate that she still gets under my skin even after all these years. I won’t lie to myself, even if that makes me an asshole, but after our first interaction three years ago, I was a little relieved that she didn’t get the job. Our team didn’t need rude and negative energy.
Or so she thought, because that’s what she led me to believe that day. All I wanted was to apologize for spilling that coffee before her interview. So, I waited for her at that turn. But all I got was a cold and harsh treatment.
I mean, I get it. It was my fault for not watching my steps or paying attention to my surroundings. And not to give an excuse, but I had the game of my hockey career the night prior, so I might’ve been a little bit in my head.
That’s why I offered her an apology drink, but her brash and snappy attitude annoyed me longafter she left. And just when I thought I had gotten her out of my mind, lo and behold, a couple of weeks later, she saunters in with the company ID swinging around her swan-like neck, shadowing Stacy, our then Social Media Manager.
Instead of apologizing for her behavior since she secured her internship, she was shooting daggers at me when she thought no one was watching. Even that devilish attitude was solely reserved for me. She flashed a smile and talked politely to literally every other person to walk the Earth.
Especially that blond-haired dude atHolly’s. I’ve seen her spend her time with him whenever we have a game in Seattle. However, I’ve never seen the guy’s face properly. He’s not related to hockey, that’s for sure.
Who even is he?
Goddamn it! The mere thought of her with that guy stirs me crazy because all night, I keep restlessly twisting and turning in bed, wondering if she went to herroom with him.
* * *
We take an early flight back to Boston. The moment I step out of the airport, the chill and the bite of the frigid air scratch my exposed skin, making an involuntary shudder course through me.
All of us bid bye for now, knowing we’ll meet soon enough to get the grind on, it being a regular season and all. “Don’t be late to the arena,” the coach reminds us before dismissing us and heading off with his wife under his arm.
I hail a taxi and climb in, directing the driver to my house. The view outside the window looks as muddled as the thoughts in my head. The truth of how utterly lonely I feel gnaws at my peace.
I wonder what it would be like to have that one person just for yourself. A person who understands you better than anyone. Someone who looks at you and seesyouinstead of how you makethemlook.
