Page 16 of Fate on the Ice

My father has never even done what this man just did for me. I mean, I’m sure if I asked him to, my dad would go to bat for me about something. But I would have to ask, I would probably have to beg. Not with Otto, though. He just took my phone and handled it. Right here and now. No questions asked.

“Say you’ll go out with me.”

It’s not really a question, more of a demand, and I know I am going to accept. If for no other reason than thanking him for what he’s done. For standing up for me. Although, if I’m being real, it’s because he’s hot and even giving me any attention, plus he called me honey.

The only sticky part of this situation is that he plays for my father. I’m not sure I can do anything past this one date. I don’t need to worry about that yet, though. One thing at a time.

Dinner first.

“I will.”

OTTO

“Hayze. What the fuck kind of name is that?” I ask Forrest as I walk down the staircase and make my way into the kitchen.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he arches a brow while he lifts his bottle of water to his lips. I watch as he takes a long drink, then he clears his throat. It’s clear he’s trying not to laugh at me, but he’s doing a pretty good job of staying calm.

“I could tell you what it sounds like, but I won’t.”

I snort. He’s right. I could think of a million reasons someone would name their kid that, and none of them are positive. But hell, what do I know? So, I don’t say a single word. I inhale a deep breath and grab my car keys from the counter.

“You taking her out tonight?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I murmur, using my free hand to slide my palm down the center of my chest, checking to see if my buttons are straight on my shirt.

Forrest grins, his eyes sliding down to my feet, then back up. “You clean up good,” he mutters.

My phone rings in my pocket, and I dig my hand inside to fish it out. It’s my mother, which doesn’t surprise me. Before I slide my thumb across the screen to answer it, I give Forrest a two-fingered wave and make my way toward the front door.

“Maman,” I say into the phone.

I hear her heavy sigh, knowing she loves it when I use a little French. “Have you bought your plane ticket?” she asks, her voice light and airy even though I know she wants an answer, and she wants my answer to be what she wants to hear and nothing else.

“I can’t, not right now. We started training already,” I say.

“It is not healthy to work the hours that you do, fils. You must take a break.”

There are so many things I want to tell her. A break isn’t possible right now. I’m twenty-five and trying to make a name for myself with the career I love. I’m only getting older, and this is my passion. Even if I don’t play for the NHL, I could be a coach. I could be a private instructor. I could make this my life. And I plan on it, but that means I have to sacrifice.

She wouldn’t understand any of it, though. And I know that, to a degree, she is right, but she won’t come here to see me. She only wants me to come to her, which makes it infinitely harder.

“I wish I could come and visit more often, but because we played so long into the postseason because we did so well, the break was even shorter this year.”

She huffs before she speaks again. “I know it means you’re doing well. And I wish for nothing more than your success, but I also wish that you were closer. Have you thought about a transfer to Canada?”

I can’t tell her that my heart is indeed in North Carolina. I like it here, and I love my team. They are all truly my brothers. She would be hurt and offended if I said that, so I don’t say anything at all.

“Just keep it in mind,” she whispers.

“Je t’aime, Maman,” I say.

She hums, murmuring that she loves me, too. Ending the call, I walk across the street to pick up my date. I wasn’t sure what to wear, even though I knew exactly where I was going to take her.

I ended up picking a black button-down shirt that I actually ironed, gray pants, a black belt, and black shoes. I figure you can’t go wrong with black. And my hair and beardless face are still on point, thanks to Brooklynn, so that didn’t take much work.

Lifting my hand, I extend my index finger and begin to ring the bell but don’t get the chance. The door flies open. I expect to see Brooklynn standing in front of me, but instead, it’s Karlie.

“This house has been abuzz, and it’s all your fault,” she says in a scolding tone. Although I can tell she doesn’t mean anything by it.

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