Poor guy. He’s a damn good coach, but even a miracle wouldn’t be enough to steer the Rogues on course.
“Four years of the NCAA league in college, and you’ll be a pro hockey player. It’s what you’ve been working all these years toachieve.” She finishes her sentence and raises a glass of wine to me, Dad, and Emmett.
Without drinks tocelebrate, all three of us nod our heads.
Mom casts her eyes around the light-blue living room like she doesn’t live here, looking about as uncomfortable as we all feel. “What time are Jessie and Mia arriving?”
Emmett pushes back the sleeve on his white dress shirt to check his watch. “Anytime now. Jessie needed to finish up on a call with the general manager, and then he was going to pick up Mia and the girls.”
Mom’s eyes grow wide. “Drew and Marley are coming too?” She downs the rest of her wine in one hit. For saying this woman co-owns one of the biggest legal practices in the country, she sure as shit can’t hold it together when we’re hosting a draft party and there’s a chance we’ll run out of breadsticks.
But given that Jessie Callaghan—former Seattle Scorpions forward and Rogues head coach—will call the shots on my future pro career, Mom will go to any lengths to keep that man happy.
Even if they’ve all been family friends since before June and I were born.
When Mom turns on her heel and makes for the kitchen, Dad looks like he wants to say something, but is cut short by the doorbell.
“June, will you get that, honey? It’s probably the Callaghan family!”
“When have we ever referred to them as theCallaghan familyrather than their first names?” June mocks beneath her breath as she slides her phone into her jeans pocket and walks toward the entryway, long, dark hair swishing down her back as she moves.
She’s barely said two words since the draft program started, and with the way she has her head buried in her phone ninety-nine percent of the time, I forgot that she was within earshot.
Not that it matters. June already knows how I feel about tonight’s outcome. As twins, we’ve always been able to read each other’s mind, although it’s not hard to sense my devastation—it’s written all over my face.
More silence descends on the room before Emmett thumbs behind him. “I’m going to go help out in the kitchen.”
“You need to do a better job of looking happy about this,” Dad says after a few seconds. With only us left in the room, he doesn’t bother whispering.
I shrug and exhale a deep breath. “Are you happy about it?”
Dark brown eyes similar to my own fix on me. “Of course I’m not. Your ability is unmatched, and you have the makings to become one of the greatest forwards of all time.” He scoffs and runs a frustrated hand through his dark hair. “And if Jessie waltzes in here and pretends like he would’ve been happy with a team like the Rogues when he was a first-round draft pick, then I’ll likely lose my?—”
“Lose your what, JJ?” A deep voice cuts my dad off. Only Mom ever refers to Dad using that nickname, although nothing about the way Jessie says it is endearing.
Dad and Jessie’s close friendship has been built around hockey. As former teammates and now coaches for different teams, they’ve always had a ton of respect between them. Respect that I can tell is being tested right here in this room tonight.
Jessie narrows his bright blue eyes at Dad. “You knew before tonight that there was a real chance that Will would be a Rogue, and it’s high time you got used to it. We’ve got the best facilities and coaching staff in the sport, and Will …” Jessie sets his eyes on me, and I really do try to smile. “Will is going to have a fucking great career with me guiding him every step of the way.”
When it comes to the latter, I have zero doubts. Jessie—or soon-to-be Coach Callaghan—has consistently had my back, andwe’ve always had a special bond. Hell, I’m even named after his late brother, who died when he was a few days old.
“Gah! Will! First stop, the University of Minnesota, and then Seattle!” Marley—Jessie and Mia’s fifteen-year-old daughter—strides into the room and wraps her arms around my shoulders, planting a kiss against my chest.
She’s only three years younger than me, but I tower over her petite frame.
If anyone can draw a grin from me, it’s Marley and her sunshiny personality. Once again, I try to look happy. She frowns when I fail, tipping her head to one side and studying me.
“I thought the NHL was your dream. You’ve been going on about it since I could understand words.”
“Playing for Toronto was his dream. The Seattle Rogues are beneath someone like William Jones.”
I roll my eyes as Drew Callaghan—eldest daughter of Jessie and Mia—perches her head on her sister’s shoulder.
“I don’t think I’m superior, Drew,” I drawl.
She quirks a brow, and I actually smile.
“IknowI’m superior.”
