Reid had studied the tapes of the playoff games that season. Five years had passed since they won the Cup, and while they had been in contention since, they hadn’t scaled those dizzy heights again. The team had good players back then, some still on the roster: Burnett, Petrov, DuPre, Callaghan, St. James, Jorgenson. United Nations of Badass, someone called them. But they’d had good players the last couple of seasons, too. What was it about this combination that turned those zeroes into heroes?
“I guess it shouldn’t have,” Remy said, stroking his chin. “In fact, that year was personally momentous for most of us. It should have thrown us off, screwed us up, messed with our minds, but instead it made us stronger. We were all finding our soul mates while we discovered the recipe that worked to form a winning band of brothers.” He smiled that pirate’s grin. “You’re too young, maybe, to be thinking about settling down. But me? I was ready during that season. Had my sights set on some imaginary little homemaker who would bake cookies, fix me a bourbon, and let me fill her with babies.”
Remy smirked. “Yeah, I know, I know. I was pissed at being traded to this shit team. I felt my last shot slipping away. And I had a chance to trade out just before the deadline. We were getting better but not that much better. I could’ve had a shot with a different team but I’d fallen for the team owner and when I say fallen, I mean flat on my beautiful face. This woman had me, body and soul, and I knew there was nowhere I’d rather be. I’d already won the prize. The Cup was just gravy.”
Reid hoped his face was as blank as he wished it to be. Inside, his organs were gallivanting, moving around, swapping places. He read a lot of sports memoirs and psychology treatises. He watched game after game, searching for the clues to what produced a winner. Talent wasn’t enough. Graft helped, but even that was just another string to the bow rather than the whole damn weapon.
It was something indefinable. Some it factor that Reid had been grasping for.
He had always viewed a player’s personal relationships as a liability, especially romantic ones. Sure some players were happily settled with kids, a stable home life that evened them out. But the journey there was usually momentous, filled with potholes and detours that threw a player off his game. It was why Reid had ruled it out as a contributory factor to being the best. The dip in his play wasn’t worth it because he didn’t see that the end would ever justify the means.
He refused to believe he could ever be as happy as the man before him. He glowed with it. Yet Reid recognized that look, the emotions that accompanied it. He’d had a glimpse of it in his own life these past few weeks …
“Good thing it worked out. You picked right.”
Remy shook his head. “No, that’s the thing. I didn’t pick, the team picked me. Or I should say the woman did. C’est tout.” That’s all.
“It sounds … random.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Remy laughed, like it had just occurred to him. “But it’s a powerful force, that surprise when your best laid plans disintegrate before your eyes. It doesn’t always have to be so rigid, mon ami. You can enjoy a trip or two down those side roads.”
But to let chance or happenstance have such an influence on the outcome of your life? Reid didn’t buy that. He’d tried it and look at where it had landed him: alone and hurting.
And Christ, it did hurt. More than he would have thought possible. The high … he wasn’t sure it was worth feeling this low.
“I control what I can. It’s the only way I know how to do it.” It was about as honest as Reid had ever been about his drive to succeed.
“Sure, I see you doing that. We all think we’re doing that. But I also see that good things have come from Coach switching you to center. Bet you never thought that would be where you ended up heading into the new year?”
Reid shook his head.
“Just sayin’ be open to another viewpoint. And never underestimate the power of positive emotion to make you perform.”
“Just running on my competitive streak.”
“Oui, sure you are. I think you’re happy, Reid. Keep it up and it might be enough to get you a contract.”
A contract? Was Remy clueing him into something he’d heard behind closed doors at Chase Manor or during pillow talk with the boss? He opened his mouth to ask only to be interrupted by a new arrival.
“Duracell!” Kershaw bounded in like a puppy. “Where’s Kennedy?”
“Why do you want to know?”
Theo flicked a look to Remy, then back to Reid. “She said she might be able to help me with some business stuff. But if she’s not here …”
“She’s my roommate, that’s all, so why would she be here?”
“Leave him alone, Superglutes.” Cal waltzed in and put his beer bottle in the recycling bin.
“Don’t need your defense, Foreskin.”
Cal burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?”
“You, acting like you don’t care about anything but your damn dog. So you had a fight with your girl. We’ve all been there.”
“All been where?” Gunnar Bond appeared, chewing on a cookie.
Theo pointed. “Is that gingerbread?”
“Yep, there’s a tray of it in the other room.”
Theo left the kitchen faster than the first line on a breakaway, shouting over his shoulder, “Don’t start Duracell’s intervention without me!”
“There’s no …” Reid arced his gaze over the remaining group, feeling very dumb and very much the center of attention. “I don’t need an intervention. Kennedy and I are not a couple.”
“But you want to be. She’s a nice kid, great with Cooper who, believe me, is no picnic. Sadie likes her, too,” Gunnar said around his cookie chewing. “Damn, I hope Kershaw brings back more than one.”
“I don’t need—listen, that’s not the point. If one person is all in and the other is not, you can’t make it happen.”
“So, who’s all in here?” Remy asked.
He shifted against the counter and muttered, “I am.”
Remy sniffed. “Just checkin’.”
Foreman looked amused. “What’s the problem, then?”
“She’s not. All in, that is. She’s not even somewhat in. She’s got one foot on a plane somewhere because she’s a commitment-phobe who refuses to settle. Which is fine. She would never choose me anyway.”
“Why not?” Petrov’s deep, accented voice made Reid jump. He shrugged unapologetically when Reid turned. “Heard we were doing an intervention.”
“We’re not—”
“I got a selection.” Theo placed a tray of cookies on the counter and all but Reid went to town on them. “Remy, it looks like you’ve run out of the snickerdoodles. What’d I miss?”
“Durand didn’t expect Kennedy to choose him, for some reason.” Foreman took a bite out of a chocolate-chip cookie that looked soft and chewy, and moaned a little. “Go on, Durand. Your captain wants to know why.”
Reid scowled at him, slid a glance to Petrov, and took a breath. “Even if she was inclined to stick around, I’m not the kind of guy she would go for. Sure, in some ways, we work—”