I could do nothing more than consider it a sign that this was all working out the way it was supposed to.
And I fucking hated the way it was making me feel.
Now I have doubts.
Should I have talked to Willow? Perhaps given her a chance to process what I had asked of her? I know I caught her off guard, and I know she has fears. Should I have been more supportive rather than worried about how it affected me?
All are questions I have no answers to, and I’m afraid if I knew the real answers, I’d feel even more like shit than I already do.
So I press on.
I make myself concentrate on the playoffs, and I wait for my team to arrive at the hotel so I can be the first to welcome them off the bus.
My phone rings, startling me. I pull it from the inside pocket of my suit jacket, surprised to see Gray Brannon’s name.
I answer about as informally as one can to the general manager of the opposing team in the Cup finals. “Calling to cede victory to us?”
Gray laughs, a husky, smoky sound of amusement. “You’re adorable, Dominik. And while I’ll congratulate you on games one and two, I will promise you this right here and now… we’re taking the next two games.”
I don’t bother bantering since I know it’s a very real possibility.
But I laugh in response, because I like that we have this relationship now. “So to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”
“Well, for one,” she says with businesslike efficiency, “I wanted to welcome you formally to Raleigh and see if there was anything you needed?”
Polite formalities are extended all the time between business owners and upper management. It’s part of the profession.
“I’m good,” I say as I see the bus pull up in front of the hotel. I rise from the chair I’d been occupying, then head toward the doors. “But I appreciate it.”
“I’d also like to extend an invitation to you and any guests of your choosing to sit in the owner’s box with me, my father, and some of the family members of the Cold Fury.”
Now this surprises me. There’s always a box made available for visiting owners and management, but never an offer to share the home team’s. Gray’s father also happens to be the Cold Fury’s owner.
She goes on to explain. “I really love how we worked out a deal to help Rafe Simmons with his father. It’s just a great example of how we can be opponents and still celebrate our humanity by coming together. I thought it would be cool if some of the families from the opposing teams could spend time together this evening. Yes, I know this is a competition and it could get heated, but I also sort of like the spirit of us being together even while battling each other.”
For a moment, I don’t know what to say. I reach the doors but hesitate before stepping out. Through the glass, I watch the bus doors open and the players start to disembark. I want to greet them, so I have to hurry this up. “Gray… I think that’s a phenomenal idea. I accept, and I’ll extend some invitations to a few of the family members I know are traveling here for tomorrow’s game. I’ll call you back.”
“Sounds great. Talk soon.” And with that, she disconnects because she’s got important things to do such as run a professional hockey team.
I push out the doors, catching the first few players coming off the bus. We’ve all come to a point in our relationships where I’m “Dominik” and not “Mr. Carlson” to them anymore. I shake each player’s hand as they step down, offering words of encouragement that are tailored to them individually.
When Bishop steps off, I say, “There’s my team’s leader. All hail King Bishop.”
He laughs and takes my hand, giving it a hard pump.
I lean in closer. “Listen… can you grab the guys and wait for me? I need to go over something with you.”
There’s no need for explanation as to whom I’m referencing when I say, “the guys”. He knows I mean the first line… the group of men I’ve actually become friends with over the past few weeks.
“Sure thing, boss man,” he quips before stepping off to the side.
I continue to greet all the players, same as the coaches and support staff. There are two buses that came packed with our team from the airport, and I make sure to touch base with each person for a few minutes before they file into the hotel to check-in.
When I’m finally able to look for my first line, I find them huddled up together in a corner of the lobby. They’re all surfing their phones, some with earbuds in.
When I join them, they put their phones away and give me their undivided attention.
“So, I got a call from Gray Brannon right before you guys pulled up,” I tell them. Bishop, Erik, Legend, Dax, Tacker, Wylde, and Legend all study me curiously. “She’s opening up the owner’s box to just family members from both teams to sort of commemorate the spirit of how we came together to arrange for Rafe to come home to Raleigh. She’s asked me to attend and to bring some of our team’s family there. I wanted to offer it up to your families first.”
Legend is the first to speak. “I know Pepper, Brooke, Blue, and Nora were all planning to sit together during the game tomorrow. I’m sure they’d probably enjoy that. We can give them a call.”
It’s not lost on me that Willow’s name was not included in that group of women, and I’m not sure what that means. But neither was Regan’s, so it’s more than likely they’re going to be sitting with family.
So I turn to Dax. “What about your family? I know your parents had planned on coming to all the finals.”
I haven’t seen or talked to Dax since Willow and I broke up. I have no clue if he even knows or not because I don’t know if she’s told anyone.
The look he gives me back is bland, and I can’t read a damn thing. “I’ll call my parents when they land. They’re flying in today. I’m sure they’d like that. Regan, too.”
I hesitate, not sure whether I should question the obvious way Willow isn’t mentioned, but then again, he hadn’t mentioned his sister Meredith either.
I decide it’s not my business. If they were coming, he would have mentioned them. So I give him a short nod, then address the rest of the guys. “Someone just text me a final list of who will be coming.”
“Sure thing,” Bishop replies, and the men start to disband.
I turn for the elevators, thinking I’ll go to my room and get some work done, but then just as quickly decide I can’t let the Willow thing go.
“Dax,” I call as I pivot toward him. “Got a minute?”
The look he gives me doesn’t bode well. It’s the same one I used to get from him all the time when I would hound him for information on his sister. It clearly conveys he doesn’t want to be bothered about it.
I’ve never let that put me off before.
Dax approaches, and I ask bluntly, “Isn’t Willow coming to the game?”
He shakes his head. “Work obligations.”
This surprises me. I never thought she’d miss her brother’s games once the Vengeance got this far. “She took a job?”
“Yup.” His face is stony, and he’s clearly not looking for extended conversation.