“Okay,” I said, clasping my hands. My knee bounced as I sat waiting for whatever was to come, and she must have noticed. She made the call as the lump in my throat threatened to choke me at the mention of our head coach, Craig Henderson. The only thing worse would be for Mr. Carlisle to walk in.
Laura smiled empathetically, then reassured me with a soothing tone. “Everything is fine with the team, Mason. Don’t worry. But there’s something we thought you needed to know.”
My brow pinched together as I tried to figure out what she was referring to with someone as ordinary as me. At least my job was not on the line. “That’s good, but I have no idea what you’re referring to.”
Coach walked into her office, followed by Mr. Carlisle. If she hadn’t told me it had nothing to do with the team, I just might have panicked. Standing, I shook hands with both of them. “Coach. Mr. Carlisle. It’s nice to see you. I think.”
They chuckled. “Relax, Mason,” Coach Henderson said. “Everything’s okay.”
My face crumpled into a frown as Laura got up and moved to the conference table on the other side of the room. She logged into a laptop and turned on the giant monitor hanging on the wall. “Gentlemen,” she said, motioning for us to take a seat.
I sat down as my heart attempted to beat out of my chest. Thankfully, she didn’t prolong the agony. Everyone knew I had issues with anxiety.
“The reason I asked for this meeting is that my Google Alerts have been going off like crazy, even more so than usual. You and the Storm PR account have been tagged in an enormous number of posts on multiple platforms on social media with a European hockey player.”
I was confused. “What? Why? I don’t know anyone from the UK.” I looked from Coach to Mr. Carlisle. “We behaved ourselves in Australia—even Lennox. The worst thing that happened was that he didn’t want to climb to the top of the Bridge, and we kinda coerced him into going. Not me. I just offered to go in front of him, like on the field, thinking he’d feel more secure.”
She smiled at me sympathetically. “You really are a big teddy bear, aren’t you?”
I chuckled and rubbed my neck. “I guess. It’s my job to protect him, even though he has Dane now.”
Laura sat forward in her chair. “Mason, correct me if I’m wrong, but you only have two sisters, right?”
Frowning, I nodded. “Yes, ma’am. What does that have to do with this?” I was confused.
“That’s what I thought. That’s why this makes no sense.”
She tapped on her keyboard, causing photo after photo to fill the oversized wall monitor. My breath caught in my chest, and my mouth fell open as the understanding of what she’d been alluding to sank in. Everything around me slowed down as mybrain processed the man in the photos. Familiar dark, sandy-blond hair and green eyes pierced me through the screen as I rose from my seat to move closer for a better look.
The room was silent as I approached the screen. When I stopped to look at Laura, I found the same expression of disbelief on her face. “It’s uncanny, isn’t it?”
Drawn back to the screen, I stared at the man as she spoke. “We’ve been tagged in hundreds of photos, because people all over the internet think that’s you. But we know it’s not.”
My mind raced as I tried to come up with how she could know that. The hair, the eyes, and the build were all the same. The only difference was the absence of a beard and the intricate tattoos that flowed from under the short sleeve of his t-shirt. Instinctively, I rubbed my unadorned skin on my right arm.
“Who is he?” I asked, unable to take my eyes off him. “Are you sure it’s not just an AI image?”
“He’s real. His name is Axel Hughes,” she said. “He’s a British hockey player who plays for the German League. He plays center for Leipzig.”
My eyes widened as I turned to look at her. “Seriously?”
She smiled at the irony. “Yes. Do you know anything about hockey?”
I did. “Yeah. It’s big in the northeast.” I turned back to look at the screen. “It means he’s an exceptional athlete.”
“Just like you,” she added.
Mesmerized by the man on the screen, I was rendered speechless. My heart raced again because all my life, I’d felt like something was off. Or missing. I could never put my finger on it. But looking at him sparked a variety of feelings that left me unable to put it all into words.
“Why would they tag me? I can see the resemblance is uncanny, but the center is probably the least popular player onthe team.” Lifting my hand, my fingers traced down the sleeve of colorful ink on the screen.
Before she could answer my question, Coach piped in. “You’re more than just a center, son. I know I don’t have to remind you that you’re the main protector of the ball and the quarterback. Don’t sell yourself short,” Coach added. “I won’t tolerate it.”
I smiled at his scolding. He reminded me of Thomas.
“According to what I’ve read,” Laura said, “he’s the top-scoring center in the German League. He was scouted by the NHL but chose to stay in Europe.”
“Do you have family over there?” Mr. Carlisle murmured.
