Page 14 of Game On

He’d been so focused on keeping his head above water and then organizing the move to Vancouver that he hadn’t registered how fucking amazing it felt to be wanted. It was like celebrating every birthday at once. At Disney World. After winning the Cup.

In fact, it wasn’t unlike the feeling Space Mountain gave him. Thrilling. Pulse-racing. Heart thumping.

Jamie nodded at Stanton’s hoodie. “How can I get an Orcas hoodie?”

“Glad you asked,” Shore said, his deep voice reverberating in Jamie’s bones. “Li, if you’ll do the honours.”

Coach Li plunked an Orcas-branded duffle bag onto the desk and unzipped it. “Welcome to the team, Jamieson.”

Inside was enough Vancouver Orcas swag to open his own storefront. T-shirts, hoodies, pants, baseball hats, a mug, a keychain, a foam finger. Even a mouse pad.

“Wicked,” he whispered under his breath, bouncing on his toes. He took out a black baseball hat with the Orcas logo on the front and put it on. “How do I get kid-sized stuff? I have nieces and nephews who’d love some of this.”

“Let me know what you need and in what size,” Assistant Coach Li offered. “I’ll get you sorted.”

Shore clapped a hand on his shoulder. “After practice, I’ll take you to our head office so you can meet the front office staff. And I think Mark—that’s our head of media relations—has something planned for social media. But first, let me introduce you to the team.”

Jamie took his duffle of swag with him into the connecting locker room. The commotion didn’t automatically cease when Shore walked in, which told Jamie two things.

First, the players were comfortable with their coach and he with them.

Second, this wasn’t the type of locker room where players needed to straighten to attention whenever a coach walked in.

It was a big guy already dressed in his practice uniform who first spotted them. Dylan Archambault, Jamie recalled from his research. He went over to a smart speaker and must’ve told it to stop because the music cut off as though someone had unplugged an old-fashioned boom box.

“Thanks, Archie,” Shore said. “All right, everyone, listen up. This is Jamie Jamieson, your new teammate, more or less fresh off the plane from Charlotte. Jamieson, these idiots are my players.”

“Knew you loved us, Coach,” came a voice from Jamie’s left.

“Keep telling yourself that, Walters.”

“I know you have a poster of me up on your bedroom wall.”

Shore barely spared Walters a glance. “I covered it up with a photo of me and Pierce.”

The room erupted with various cries of “Oooh” and “Burn.”

Walters clutched his chest. “You wound me, Coach.”

“Yeah, yeah. All right, suit up. I expect you all on the ice in five minutes. Jamieson, that’s Brawsiski over there. He saved you a locker next to him. That’s where you’ll find your stuff.”

Over there was somewhere vaguely to Jamie’s right, so he headed in that direction, trying to remember the player roster he’d studied on the plane. What’d Brawsiski look like again? On his way over there, Jamie introduced himself to everyone he passed, exchanged handshakes and fist bumps, and said hello to the few players he’d previously met at functions.

“Jamie Jamieson isn’t your real name, is it?” Toussaint asked, leaning in close like he was imparting a secret.

Oh, if Jamie had a dollar for every time he’d been asked. “What’ll you give me for the answer? Because that Starbucks looks good.”

Toussaint scowled and stepped in front of the cup sitting on the bench in front of his locker. “Don’t get between a man and his coffee, JJ.”

“Hm.” Jamie continued on his way with a smirk, another thrill zinging through him at the nickname. On the Cobras, he’d just been Jamie. “Guess I’ll take my real name to my grave then.”

“I’ll figure it out before the end of the season. You’ll see.”

Jamie chuckled. “You can try.”

And there, finally, was Blair Brawsiski. Jamie recognized him now that he was looking at him. He was tall—hell, everyone was tall, Jamie included—with a mop of brown hair and eyes about seven shades bluer than Jamie’s own blue grey.

His smile was welcoming when he offered Jamie a fist for a bump. “Hey, man. Good to meet you.”

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