“We all piled on you.”
“Yeah, but you were first.”
His hand catches the back of my neck, and he tugs me toward him. Heat spirals down my spine. He hugs me, water swirling around us, our wet bodies pressed together. It’s friendly, just friendly, but my body reacts like it’s more than that brief second before he lets go and steps back. “I’m really glad I got to win this with you.”
“Think we can do it again next year?”
“You might be able to…” His smile falters. “We all know the Quake’s precariously close to being over the cap limit next year. They’re gonna have to drop some contracts.”
“Not you.”
“Yeah, probably me. I tend to be expendable. Look at my history.” Grady has been traded before. More than once. And I know there’s a grain of truth to his statement. He was brought in because our goalie Collingwood, was put on long-term injury reserve due to back-to-back surgery. They traded our backup goalie for Grady and brought up a kid from the farm team to back him, but the kid struggled. Grady carried us through this playoff run.
“That would suck,” I utter what feels like the understatement of the year.
“Yeah.”
Our eyes lock, and everything gets intense. I’m drowning in emotions I’ve never felt before, so I reach under the water for his pants. My fingers find soggy belt loops, and I yank him into me until our bodies collide and I wrap an arm around his back like a standard bro-hug that feels anything but standard. “You’re my favorite teammate.”
The words feel thick and heavy but also frivolous. Because he’s more than my favorite teammate. He’s one of my favorite people. He hugs me back, squeezing hard and holding me so close I can barely breathe, but it’s okay because I don’t want to. His head moves just a fraction of an inch on my shoulder, his beard brushing my neck, and I think… I think we’re both getting hard again. What the f?—
“Morning winners!” Angela’s voice rings out like a fire alarm.
We step apart, no jumping, no freaking out. Because we haven’t done anything. Not a thing. She’s wearing sunglasses and a flowy white sundress with gold sandals, looking refreshed for a woman I know was hammered only four hours ago. One hand holds a tray of coffees and the other a bag of fast food. “I thought the bro-hug phase would have ended by now. Apparently, it’s just moved into the water.”
“It started on water,” Grady reminds her. “Ice is frozen water.”
She smiles bigger. “Full circle then. Time to eat.”
“You’re a savior,” Grady says, wading to the wide concrete steps of the pool. “I usually have to order Uber Eats, and it takes forever.”
And just like that… life goes back to normal. I feel relief as I follow him out of the pool… and pretend there isn’t an inkling of disappointment dripping off my feelings like the water off my saturated clothing.
Chapter 1
Grady
My cell buzzes on my coffee table. I let it ring twice before I lower the volume on the new Gladiator movie. It rings once more before I glance at the screen. I know who it is. I mean, not definitively, but it’s either my agent or my grandparents because those are the only people in my life who use cellphones for actual calls.
I’m back in California, had a few practices with the team, and just started to let myself dream of being there when they raise the Stanley Cup Championship banner at the Quake’s first game of the season. So, of course, it’s my agent. I slowly lean forward, hit Accept, then speaker, and close my eyes. “Hey, Clark.”
“I have good news and bad news.”
My shoulders sag. “Where am I going?”
I’m not new to this. My professional career as a hockey goalie started when I was eighteen. I spent two years on the Vipers, four years on the Thunder, two years in Brooklyn, one year in Seattle, and, now, a year and a half in Los Angeles. I’m used to trades, and I don’t mind. Except this time, I do.
“Well, so you’ve figured out the bad news,” Clark says, confirming that the trade is happening. “Here’s the thing. They love you. They know you’re still hotter than August in Los Angeles, but they have cap issues. They can’t make it work. They really tried, Grady, which is why this is coming so late.”
“Yeah. Okay,” I say and try not to sigh. I’m sure they did try. I know I was a big part of that Stanley Cup win last year. Huge part. Everyone knows that. “So where am I headed?”
“That’s the good news!” Clark tries so hard to be upbeat. Bless him. He’s a really good agent and I have no complaints about him. “There was serious interest from four different teams. Ultimately, the Riptide offered a first-round pick for you and both their goalies. Both. You’re going to Maine, Grady. Hometown turf, and you get to play with another cousin.”
Oh.
The news sends a small ripple of excitement through me and then a smaller rush of anxiety. Before I can process either emotion, and as I scrub the ginger beard that’s still damp from my recent shower, Clark adds, “And you’re not going alone. They traded Landon Casco, too.”
“Wh… What? Landon? Casco?” I stutter and lean closer to the phone, like I somehow misheard. “But he’s the coach’s nephew.”
