He swallowed and stepped closer. “I know, son. I’ve made so many mistakes in my life. I just want to make it up to you. And Mason.”
I looked out over the parking lot, not sure what to feel. “How did you find me?”
More shifting. “I knew you’d need to meet with management. My guy called and told me you were here. So I came over.”
“You’ve had me followed.”
He looked uncomfortable. “Only because when I heard you were coming to New York, I hoped it was a sign that you might find a way to forgive me.”
I stared at him. We had his eyes. Same shape, same green color. “That’s not why I’m here. You are a heartless liar, and I wouldn’t know where or how to start even if I wanted to.” I stepped closer and pointed at his chest. “You destroyed this. Not me.”
“Your brother has forgiven me.”
I knew his statement wasn’t completely true. “What Mason does is up to him. Save us both time and forget I exist. You did it from the time I was born, and you can do it again.”
I stepped by him and made it three steps before he spoke. “I’m going to find a way to convince you, too, Max.”
Hearing the name he used to call me before he disappeared from my life, stabbed me in the chest. I turned and looked at him. “I’m not the teenager you left behind to clean up your mess. I no longer need or want your approval.”
I turned, but he stopped me again. “I love you, Maxwell. And I’m proud of you. More than you know.”
That time I didn’t turn. I kept walking and stuffed my pain down once again.
When I got back to the apartment, I placed my phone on the kitchen counter and headed to the refrigerator for another electrolyte drink. The GM’s staff had filled the refrigerator with all the things professional athletes might need.
Taking a seat on the lounger, I scrolled through my email as the city buzzed with life. Even though it was hot as fuck in July, I embraced the subtle differences from home. Honking cars andthe sounds of busy people were a symphony of their own as I looked at the schedule for the upcoming season. Adding it to my personal calendar, it narrowed the time I had to find a place to live and to get ready for the pre-season to start. We would criss-cross North America over the grueling seven-month season. It would be even longer when the playoffs started. Traveling was second-best to the actual game. It helped me forget the things I was missing. Until my eyes snagged on Los Angeles. He was the other reason I’d made the leap to the NHL.
A soft knock on the door drew my attention away. Hauling my sore legs from the lounger, I strode across the room to open the door.
“Mr. Hughes?” Recognition washed over his face. I wasn’t in the mood for fans, but he had my delivery.
“Yes. Come in.” Stepping back, I widened the door for him to enter with the two trolleys carrying my life from the UK. I’d had to ship some things separately rather than hauling them all onto the airplane. When he was inside, I closed the door behind him.
“Welcome to New York. The Nighthawks are really lucky to have you.”
I huffed a laugh. Sucking up already. “Thank you. I didn’t know they were going to announce it before I got here officially.”
His head bobbed enthusiastically, like a puppy. “Yes, sir. It’s all over the papers and TV. The analysts say the only way the Nighthawks stand a chance is with a big-name player like you.” He pointed at the Ice Tigers bag that held my equipment. “I bet they’re pissed you’re gone.”
Folding my arms across my chest, I wasn’t in the mood to discuss how difficult it had been to leave my team. “Something like that.” I motioned toward the bedroom. “Put them in the other room. Please.”
His excitement waned. “Oh, yes, sir,” he said, jumping to attention. “Sorry.” He pointed to himself. “I didn’t mean to talkyou to death. I’m a big hockey fan. I grew up playing. Love it, really. Rangers fan.” The moment the words escaped his mouth, he knew he’d made a mistake.
I raised a brow at his declaration of fandom for my newest rival. “Not the Nighthawks, then?”
His eyes widened. “Well,” he stammered. “Not yet. But I might be. When you play. Later. Maybe.”
My unimpressed stare made him uncomfortable. It was the same reaction most people had to me. My ‘fuck off’ demeanor kept most people at arm’s length.
When he returned a few moments later, I marched to the door and swung it open. Standing like a sentinel, I watched as he made haste with the empty trolleys. Pulling a twenty from my pocket, I extended it to him.
He took it from me with a tight smile. Golden retriever gone. “Thank you. Will there be anything else, Mr. Hughes?”
“No,” I growled. He didn’t deserve my attitude. Sighing, I tried again. “Thank you.”
Nodding furiously, he stepped into the hallway. “Should you need anything, please call the front desk.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,Ranger,” I replied, like it was the dirtiest word I’d ever spoken. Sometimes I just couldn’t help myself.
