As the kids file off the ice, Connor lingers. “Thanks, Coach.”
Coach.
The word warms something in me even though I’m not sure I would ever make a good coach. I mean, God knows I’ve thought about the possibility of coaching somewhere in my future and what that might look like for me. As a man in my mid-thirties, I know my time on the ice is limited. The years have been good to me, but there aren’t many hockey players still playing pro in their forties and fifties. Our bodies just don’t last that long, and I’d be lying if I said mine didn’t scream at me from time to time.
Still, coaching?
I have to wonder if I’d be any good at it…or if it would be fulfilling.
I give Connor a nod of my chin and tell him, “Anytime, kid,” and then I watch as he skates off toward the tunnel. My gaze drifts to the stands, wondering which one of these rich wildly dressed adults belongs to him. Will it be a mom with an overpriced purse and a pair of Gucci sunglasses or will it be one of the men standing around in their golf shirts scrolling on their phones scheduling their tee time? I can’t figure out which of the parents standing around belongs to Connor but when my gaze lands on a flash of brown hair and a familiar posture standing near the exit, it’s enough for me to do a double take.
What the fuck?
My stomach drops.
It can’t be.
I blink a few times trying to get a better look, but before I can be sure, she’s gone.
“Dude, you okay?” August claps his hand on my shoulder, watching me stare at the opposite side of the rink, my mouth hanging wide open. “Your face man…looks like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
Shaking my head and trying to rid myself of the sudden memories of years past infiltrating my brain, I clear my throat and turn away from the ice. “I swear to God I thought I just did.”
CHAPTER TWO
HARPER
My laptop camera catches me at a terrible angle from where I’m seated in the corner of the coffee shop, but at this point, I’m too caffeinated and too far into this week to care. The screen glitches for a second, then Jean’s face pops up, her sharp cheekbones, red lipstick, and the kind of power bob that could slice through bad contracts and weaker men staring back at me.
“Harper, darling,” Jean says in that honey-sweet voice that usually precedes trouble. “You look tired. Have you eaten anything today that wasn’t coffee?”
“I had half a granola bar,” I reply, scrolling through a spreadsheet of client renewals. “And a handful of goldfish crackers. So, basically, I’m thriving.”
She snorts. “You work like you’re still trying to prove something.”
“Probably because I am.”
Jean leans back in her chair. Her background screamsNew York office luxury: skyline view, art I can’t afford, a decanter I’m ninety percent sure is filled with gin. “How’s Anaheim treating you? Regret leaving the East Coast yet?”
“Not yet,” I say, even though I’ve been in California for barely six months. “Traffic’s hell, but the sunshine is a glorious heaven.”
“And the boy?”
“He’s good. Started hockey camp last week and loves it. He doesn’t shut up about it, honestly.”
“Of course he does. Takes after his mother. Stubborn, competitive, slightly terrifying, and passionate about the things she loves.”
I grin despite myself. “Slightly terrifying?”
The Next Play Agency brought me on board seven years ago and Jean Delacruz has been my dear colleague and mentor ever since. We work well together, teaming up to bring the firm as many high-profile athletes as we can. Though I’m considered a senior member in the firm now, I don’t think I will ever feel like I’m not trying to prove my worth. That’s why when the company opened a sister firm on the west coast, I jumped at the opportunity to lead the team. I wanted the chance to spread my wings and see what I could do in a new territory. I wanted to get the heck out of the doldrums of New York and see what a change of scenery could do.
For me and for my son.
Alright, my job may not have been the only reason for wanting to come to California, but I knew I could represent my clients from anywhere and Anaheim could be very good for Connor.
So far, life in Anaheim has been great. The stakes feel a bit higher here with everything so fresh and demanding, but I’m holding my own just fine. Though knowing where Connor is at the moment, and that my world could split apart like a fault line at any given second, I’m fully aware I’m riding a fine line and sooner or later I’m going to have to face my truths.
I take a sip of my now lukewarm coffee, grimacing at the taste. Coffee and I have a love-hate relationship. Mostly hate lately, but it’s the only thing keeping my body from staging a coup.
