There was only one other new addition to the team: Caden Kelly.
“What are you doing?” I hissed, conscious of the semi-tenuous connection I had with the rookie.
“Just seems appropriate that you give it to Kelly. He’s a center, just like you. Plus, you’ll be working exclusively with the offensive lines this season. And, well.” His words dropped off as he nodded toward the jersey in my hand, eyes full of mirth.
Zane found his own antics entirely too funny.
I glanced down at the jersey, taking in the number on the back.
Goddamn, Cade was number seventeen—my jersey number for my entire hockey career.
I quickly schooled my features. Now, I knew Zane’s teasing was all in good fun, but Cade had struck me as a guy majorly on the shy side.
Sure enough, when I raised my eyes to look over at where he stood, a red flush had made its way up his neck and reached his ears.
He’d look damn good flushed for another reason.
I slammed the door shut on that thought as soon as it crossed my mind. There was no way I could entertain even a whisper of a thought of that nature about a player.
Instead, I turned my mind to taking the attention off Cade in this moment, as I skated the dozen or so feet between us.
Cade was looking everywhere but my face when I reached him.
“I appreciate you throwing a washed-up old player like me a bone, Rookie.” I smiled so he could see that I was going for funny here. “After last season, I could use all the shout-outs to my glory days I can get,” I explained, referring to the shoulder injury that took me out just before the playoffs last season.
The players drew in a collective breath before giving into surprised-sounding chuckles and clearing of throats, followed by the same applause the other rookies received.
I had no doubts that the team was shocked I would call out such a serious injury with levity.
I gave him the jersey and shook his hand, offering him an encouraging nod before returning to Zane’s side.
“Now, if Coach’s fun is over, maybe he can let us know what else he has planned for us on thisearlymorning?” I asked irreverently.
Zane didn’t miss a beat. “All right, Hammerheads, gather round!” he called.
While he launched into a set of drills that had the players groaning, I couldn’t resist another look at Cade to make sure he was okay.
Still holding himself slightly apart from his huddled-up teammates, he met my gaze, giving me a nod of thanks and another one of his small smiles.
Watch out, Landry. You could get addicted to those.
My plan was simple—when I wasn’t working with him during practice, I’d keep my distance from Caden Kelly.
nine
CADEN
After the extra-early morning practice, Coach Wilder had sent us home with instructions to rest before the newly minted tradition of a team dinner. As we were about to head out, he announced that we were expected at the pub just down the street from the arena.
A nap did nothing to dull the embarrassment of being handed my new Hammerheads jerseyby the man who’d inspired me to choose the number in the first place.
Didn’t matter that I’d played as the number seventeen since I started in representative hockey.
What mattered was that Asher now knew that I’d chosen to wear the number because of him.
Kait wasn’t driving my computer and monitors down until several weeks from now, so it wasn’t like I could lose myself in a tricky piece of code I was working on.
Though my fingers practically itched with the need to do something with the new app I was working on. I’d sold fifty percent ownership of the first app I’d developed the summer before, leaving a condo’s down-payment worth of savings in a bank account my dad knew nothing about.
