Beau swore.
I was looking out for the kid. One day, he’d thank me, if he didn’t end up dead in a ditch.
But some of the speech must’ve landed. Beau didn’t argue, but that was the only good decision he made. He grabbed his bags and flipped me off, storming out of the locker room in silence.
And that was fine. I let the rookie cool off. Christ only knew how many hours he had before the news broke, and the league would crawl up his ass.
The rest of the guys were quiet, insulted, but they didn’t challenge me. Every man wearing the frosted blue jersey understood exactly why he had been drafted to the team.
They’d fucked up.
And hearing it out loud only confirmed their worst fears.
“So, this is where we stand,” I said. “I’ll do everything in my power to make this team a success. You either join me, or you get the fuck out of my locker room.”
I ripped off my pads, grabbed my towel, and escaped to the showers.
The water scolded me, but that was the good thing about the new arena. The water pressure was astronomical. Allowed a man to scour his body, scrape off his remaining doubts and insecurities.
The heat blistered through me. I turned on the extra showers to add a louder hiss of white noise.
After ten minutes, the last player left the locker room.
I stayed under the heat.
Not like I had anywhere to go.
Not like I had anything to do.
Not like I owed anyone any answers.
Only myself.
And that misery rested solely on my shoulders.
It took a near career-ending injury to unfuck my priorities.
I should’ve listened to Clover. Especially when she’d refused to say the words we desperately needed to hear.
I promised the team an opportunity for a real future, but what had I really learned?
I denied myself the potential for my own beautiful life.
For so long, I’d lied, convinced myself I wanted the baby with Clover just to give her what she wanted. But it had been my idea to start the family. That was the real future I wanted. A future together.
Clover’s love terrified me more than any injury, but I had no idea how to survive without her. Losing her was like losing my ability to skate, shoot, breathe.
Maybe I couldn’t give her exactly what she wanted, but I could spend a lifetime giving her everything else she’d need.
And then maybe all of life’s other challenges wouldn’t feel so goddamned insurmountable. As long as we had each other, I’d have the strength to do what the twenty-three men on the Ironfield Forge demanded of me.
I turned off the water and embraced the silence.
And pretended I hadn’t already made the easiest decision of my life.
24
Clover
My last official flight was a red eye from San Francisco to Ironfield.
The same route where I’d propositioned Adrian with his own forgotten proposal.
It promised to be a quiet flight—only forty passengers, and most would fall asleep as soon as we hit cruising altitude.
I waited for the relief to wash over me.
No more scarves. No more overhead compartment duels to the death.
No more pretzels.
It was my last trip. And then I was free to force the meat-headed hockey captain to hear my greatest proposition yet.
I was in love with him. We were having a baby.
And if we didn’t want to ruin our futures, we needed to spend the rest of our lives together.
My phone vibrated from my pocket. Technically, I wasn’t allowed to answer my cell this close to take-off. But…what were they going to do? Fire me?
Ha.
I’d already said my goodbyes, forwarded my paycheck, and cashed out my bonus miles.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t Adrian on the other end. A frantic Magnolia Mallory hissed in panic instead.
“Please tell me Adrian is with you,” she pleaded.
Magnolia didn’t give me time to answer. She spoke fast, her voice muffled as she cradled the phone on her shoulder, gulped her coffee, and clattered around her office.
The crash of falling books and knick-knacks was nothing compared to her profanity. The final crunch sounded an awful lot like her laptop striking the ground.
“Tell me you two crazy kids got married, ran away, and you’re on a honeymoon right now,” she said.
“Close.” I stepped aside as the other flight attendants helped to load luggage overhead. “I’m pregnant, the baby’s father doesn’t realize that he’s fertile, and I am about to serve refreshments to a couple who is returning from their honeymoon.”
“You’re kidding.”
The newlyweds had been sun-burnt to a crisp, and they bickered over the last bit of their aloe vera lotion. The woman played dirty and peeled a chunk of skin off her husband’s arm. He winced and dropped the bottle.
“I don’t see them lasting more than two years,” I said.
“Adrian isn’t with you?”
“I’m at work, Mags.” I checked my watch. “And I have about thirty seconds before I need to get these passengers seated and in the air.”
“Oh, this isn’t good.”
“It’s Adrian. Training camp. Did you check the locker room? It wouldn’t surprise me if he’s sleeping in the players’ lounge.”
“Already searched there.” Magnolia quieted. “Adrian didn’t show up to training camp at all today.”
At least this queasiness wasn’t caused by morning sickness. I clutched my tummy. So much for making it a full workday without throwing up on a plane.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“He didn’t show. And he didn’t call either. The coaches don’t know what happened, and the team is as confused as me. Apparently, he had just rallied the team—gave them some sort of ultimatum or encouragement or something. And it worked. The guys today—they came ready to work. Then suddenly, their captain went AWOL.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. The plane roared to life as the last of the passengers funneled through the aisle. I willed them to move faster. I couldn’t do anything for Adrian if I was stuck in San Francisco.
“Did someone try calling him?” I plugged a finger in my ears and tried to hear.
“Everyone,” she said. “He’s not answering. Sports Nation is about to run the story tonight. Adrian Alaric, Captain of the Ironfield Forge, refuses to attend training camp. This is going to look horrible for him and the team. Clover, do you have any idea where he might be?”
A dozen different situations pummeled my brain. None of them good. Adrian missing a practice? The man lived for the ice. Breathed it. Sacrificed his body for it.
He only missed practices or games when the doctors ordered it—or when he was unconscious on a surgical table.
And that thought destroyed me.
Adrian wasn’t the type of man, captain, or leader to shirk his responsibilities and abandon his team.
Something must have happened.
Something terrible.
I swallowed pure bile. Screw the scarf. I ripped the cloth from my neck, pitching it onto the floor.
“I’m across the country right now,” I said. “The flight’s about to leave, and I can be there in five hours—”