Graham nods thoughtfully. “Fair enough. Every man’s allowed to have one thing that’s off-limits.”
“Thanks.”
“One other thing,” he says. “You tell anyone about this little heart-to-heart chat we had, and it’ll totally ruin my reputation for being an asshole.”
A laugh falls from my lips. “I wouldn’t dare dream of it. Your secret is safe with me.”
22
* * *
LOGAN
I often think of Summer’s advice to me . . . you can’t enjoy the sweet until you’ve tasted the bitter.
But lately, it feels like everything in my life has turned bitter. When she left, she took any bit of leftover sweetness with her. All the softness is gone, replaced only by hard edges. All of her sunny smiles and those sweet kisses and her gentle concern . . .
But I can’t focus on that right now, because I’m preparing to walk into a conference room at the Elite Airlines Stadium in Boston for a meeting with my coach.
I adjust my tie and check my watch. I’m five minutes early because Coach appreciates punctuality. See? I have learned a thing or two during my suspension.
Taking a deep breath, I wrap my hand around the doorknob, telling myself that I’ll be okay with whatever happens next. Only I’m not sure that’s entirely true.
When I enter the room, I find Coach Wilder seated alone at the conference table.
For a moment, I pause and blink at him. I expected there would be other people here—several members of the coaching staff, maybe that lady from player safety, perhaps even someone from the league. A tiny part of me held on to some hope that maybe Summer would be here at this meeting too. Of course, I’m not so lucky.
I built it up in my head, imagining what I might say to her if she were here. Pictured her lips tilting up in a smile at me from across the room. Thought about how it would feel to have her bright eyes directed my way again.
Those thoughts got me through the past few days. But of course she’s not here, and she’s not coming.
Coach Wilder, oblivious to my inner turmoil, stands and extends his hand. “Tate. Welcome back, kid. You’re looking good. You feel good?”
I clear my throat. “Is it just us, or . . .”
He motions to the door just as it’s opening again. In walks Les, the front office manager, and we all take our seats as Les apologizes for running late. He puts his phone on silent and then turns his attention to Coach.
Coach exhales slowly and fixes me with a concerned expression. “Well? How was your time away?”
I straighten and respond with the word my agent told me to use. “Productive.”
Coach nods and his brow relaxes. “That’s good to hear. And your family?”
I force myself to smile. “Everyone’s doing as well as can be expected.”
Coach nods again, and Les discreetly looks at his watch. This is the man Summer regards as a sort of father figure in her life, though I’m not sure he even realizes it. Part of me wonders if I should say something to him. Let him know how important his guidance has been for her, then I decide against it.
Coach taps the conference table with his knuckles. “Let’s get down to it. Your therapist sent in her report, clearing you to play.”
I nod my understanding and shift in my chair, my tie suddenly too tight. “So . . . that’s it? I’m good?”
Coach’s eyes narrow. “You feel ready to return?”
“Absolutely.”
If I’m not here to play hockey, there’s no reason for me to be here in Boston at all. And if Coach thinks I’m going to grovel, then he doesn’t know me very well. There’s plenty to keep me busy back at home.
“Then go warm up,” Coach says with a grin.
We have a game tonight, and I had no idea if I’d be playing in it or not. I guess that answers that.
“Yes, sir,” I say, rising to my feet.
• • •
I had time for my entire pre-game ritual, but going through the motions felt off, like I was doing things underwater.
Tonight probably won’t be my best game, but what I lack in skill, I’ll make up for in determination. I wonder if Summer is aware of my return, if she’ll watch tonight’s game on TV. Just the idea that she might will be enough to push me.
I skated for a while before riding the stationary bike for twenty minutes to loosen up my legs, and then I stretched and grabbed a protein shake. Now I’m in the dressing room listening to one of my teammates, Lucian, announce to everyone that his wife is pregnant. There are cheers and congratulatory remarks, but inside, I feel hollow and more alone than I ever have. Knowing I don’t have a wife, a baby on the way… let alone a girlfriend, after I’d come so close with Summer, is a depressing one.
Saint pauses beside me and claps a hand on my shoulder. “Good to have you back, brother.”
I nod once. “Good to be back.”
Saint grins at me. “Let’s go have some fun.”
An hour later, we take the ice. Damn, it feels good to be back. Even better than I anticipated.
My legs feel good, and I’m alert and ready. Maybe my time away was just the break I needed.
I make my way down the ice, remembering the things Summer told me. Be ready and aware, and expect things not to go my way. I know I won’t lose my cool if they do.
In fact, when a young defenseman pushes me up against the boards during a power play, I only laugh and skate away.
“Try harder next time!” I call out to him with a smirk. The confused look on his face is priceless.
Throughout the game, I keep my head clear and myself calm through the nerves and pressure, and in the end? We manage to pull off a win against Los Angeles, and I’m on top of the world.
After the game, my phone blows up with messages, missed calls from my mom and grandpa, and a string of texts from my brothers.
But there’s nothing from Summer. It hurts more than I expected it to.
I head home to my condo, only fifteen minutes from the arena. The entire drive there, I mentally list all the reasons why I shouldn’t be the one to contact Summer. I’ve wanted to call or text her a thousand times since she left Colorado.
But she made her feelings clear, didn’t she?
The next day, I’m scheduled to fly to Toronto with the team for a series of games in Canada. I’m busy, and it’s good to be back, but it’s also been harder than I thought because I can’t stop thinking about Summer. I can’t help but wonder what she’s doing. Working, maybe? Although, it’s a Saturday, so for her sake, I hope not.
One thing is certain—she’s not surrounded by a big, loud team or an overbearing family. She’s all alone. And the idea of an incredibly sweet woman like Summer being alone doesn’t sit right with me. My mom’s right in thinking Summer won’t stay single forever.
• • •
By the time we deplane the next day, the guys have come up with a plan.
Saint and Alex drag me off to the hotel bar with the excuse of grabbing a soda, but really, I think it’s just a pretext for wanting to check up on me. Things have been busy with my return—I’ve jumped right in and haven’t had the chance to really talk with them. Not about things other than hockey, anyway.