The memory of my public humiliation after seeing my ex-fiancé, pro baseball player Devin Rhodes’, multiple cheating escapades spread all over tabloids and social media still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. The one good thing to come out of that fiasco is that it propelled me to pack up and move from Chicago to the seaside bliss and year-round warmth of Pelican Point, Florida, for a fresh start. The charming town is small enough that it’s a quiet retreat from all of the noise and notoriety of a large city, but close enough to the amenities and space I require to focus on my craft.
As I continue surveying and measuring areas for my project, I find myself in the tunnel the team uses to enter the ice. I already know that I want to create something special for the team here in this spot. Peeking out on the ice, I can see some of the players running drills. To my right, two of them are practicing what I know, even with limited hockey knowledge, is called a face-off, two players vying for control of the puck.
And the guy coaching them through it? None other than the team Captain who I met yesterday, Jax Morgan. Despite all of the protective gear, I know it’s him. Although I barely made eye contact during our introduction, I couldn’t help but notice him during the meeting. Even without all of the padding, he appeared larger than life, much different from the body type I’m typically attracted to. Not that Iamattracted, I remindmyself. I’m just admiring. Admiring his massive male presence. Admiring the dark hair that falls below his collar, curling up at the ends outside of his helmet. Admiring what the helmet he’s wearing fails to hide—his beard and those eyes that are dark as night.
I’m an introvert by nature, and an expert at hiding things, so he doesn’t fool me a bit with what he’s obviously trying to shield from his fellow athletes. As I observe from the sidelines, I see the slight hesitation in his movements, the negligible wince of pain barely visible in his eyes. When he thinks someone is watching, he immediately composes his face into a blank mask. The vulnerability he’s managing to hide from everyone else is such a contrast to the public persona he displayed in yesterday’s meeting and the man I’ve seen on social media. Imayhave spent some time googling him last night, but I’ll never admit that to Shay. I call it research. Research into the environment I’ll be working in and the dynamics of hockey. Despite what I told her earlier and what I’m telling myself to the contrary now, I’m curious about the man behind the mask.
Before I can retreat, he skates over to me.
“Hey there.”
Damn. That’s what I get for letting my curiosity get the best of me.
“Hello.”
“Elise, right? Do you like to watch hockey?”
I can’t let myself get caught up in those eyes, so I look beyond him, fixating on the advertising signs on the far side of the arena. “I don’t know enough about it to know whether I like it.” At least that’s a true statement.
“Want to learn? The boys and I can show you a few basics.”
Get out now, Elise, before you make a fool of yourself. “Maybe another time. I should get back to work.”
I haven’t even settled in to this job yet and I’m already flirting with disaster.Focus, Elise.Keep your eye on the ball, or in this case the puck, not the player. Your future depends on it.
CHAPTER 3
Jax - Time to Regroup
What the hell is with her?Ice Princess shows up, watching practice as if she’s interested in what we’re doing, but when I approach her, she’s as nippy as ever. I don’t know why that bugs me, but it does.
I wasn’t planning on staying out on the ice so long today, but after team drills, Cole Thompson, one of our most promising rookies, asked me for tips on helping him improve his face-off technique. I was going to put him off, the doctor’s warning to take it easy in the forefront of my mind, but then that annoying voice in my head reminded me of my responsibility to the team and the legacy I hope to leave.
I skate back over to center ice to bring the practice to a close, trying desperately to hide the fact that my shoulder is now killing me.
“That’s enough for today.”
“But Frost, I can go longer. I’m not ready to quit yet.”
“Look, Cole. As a rookie, there’s something you need to understand. A huge part of this game is mental,” I say, tapping the side of my head. “Winning the puck in face-off does not always translate into goals. You don’t always need to be the one to take the shot and try to score. You want career longevity? You want to make a name for yourself? The most valuable position on the team is not the Center or the Goaltender, or even the Captain. It’s the playmaker.”
“What do you mean, playmaker? That’s not a position.”
“Oh, but it is. The playmaker is the visionary. The playmaker values the team over himself. Instead of trying to take every shot, prioritize passing over shooting. Be the assist or defender for your team mates.”
He puffs up his chest in self-pride. “But Frost, I came here as an MVP. Best scoring record in the NCAA last year.”
Man this kid has a lot to learn.“That title might have gotten you here, but it’s not enough to keep you here. Team comes first.”
The expression on his face tells me he’s skeptical.
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t strive to win every face-off. But you need to play smart. Efficiently. Maximize shots on goal by figuring out who’s best positioned to score. It took me quite a while to figure that out. I had to learn to listen to my mentors and coaches. I’m trying to pass that knowledge on to you. Now, let’s hit the showers.”
The atmosphere in the arena tonight is electric. We’re playing our biggest rival, Orlando, and the match is tied two all, late in the third period. Fortunately, I’ve been pain-free for the entire game so far. After the final media break, I line up at center ice forthe face-off. The stands are vibrating with the stomping of feet and chants of fans.“Frost! Frost! Frost!”The pressure is on to break the tie prior to the end of regulation play.
I stare into the face of my opponent with a death glare in an attempt to throw him off, then focus on the puck in the ref’s hand, anticipating the drop. As soon as I move, my shoulder betrays me, causing me to fall a beat behind as the other team gains possession.
Fierce play ensues over the next two minutes. Then, with only seconds left on the clock, Orlando scores, securing their win. The crowd mood turns nasty, blaming our goalie for the game loss. Jeers of “It’s all your fault!” fill the rink. Honestly, they should direct their ire at me. I’m the one who caused the loss of momentum, allowing Orlando to dominate play as the clock ran down.
