Page 82 of His Jersey

Not to mention, bones would be broken if any of the men in this establishment so much as flirted with her.

Fifteen minutes later, a spread of multiple plates of potato and corn-based fried foods top our table. Ella appears to be in heaven as she samples each dish. We’ll have to find a good place that serves milkshakes nearby or ask Stan to put them on the menu when we celebrate our first anniversary.

Just saying.

Back in Omaha, I pull into the valet at the hotel Carlos booked for us. But before opening the door, I say, “At the first game with the Knights, will you wear my jersey again? I want everyone to know that you’re mine.”

She hurriedly gets out. I have a “scene missing” moment. I think she says, “But am I?” However, the truck door slams, muffling her words.

Maybe we are speaking a different language, but what about my marriage proposal? The ring? It sparkles on her finger. She said yes. At the time, it seemed like we were both very fluent, but now I’m not so sure.

31

JACK

Beingthe son of a billionaire came with inborn clout for the first eighteen years of my life. Then I walked onto a hockey team. Maybe that’s why I liked the sport so much. On the ice, my last name, connections, and bank account don’t matter. All I amount to is my skill and whether I show up for the team.

I wake up before dawn on my first day at the Ice Palace for the Knights. Restless and jittery, I go for a run to slough off some of the extra energy. It’s been a while since I was the new guy and that comes with a certain kind of pressure.

Ella is sound asleep. I leave her a note along with a reminder to order room service and lounge in bed all morning.

When I pull up to the arena, the winter sunshine illuminates the glass façade. It’s where I imagine Ella would say an ice princess would live. No, I haven’t seen that movie, but if she asked me to, I’d totally watch it.

Not going to lie. I’ve done workouts to Disney soundtracks—don’t judge. My usual fare is good old-fashioned rock and roll because it gets the blood pumping, but it’s important to mix it up once in a while.

Even though the building is relatively modern, it doesn’t have a cold, austere feel even though the temperature inside has to keep the ice frozen. It’s not whimsical either like the architect asked his six-year-old to draw him an ice castle.

Rather, it’s welcoming, like the buzz of the players and fans alike somehow greet you at the door and make you want to enter, sit down, and watch a killer game.

Inside, the main concourse features the team’s silver and black colors with red accents. Cushioned chairs and low tables provide lounge areas to gather along with a bar height section with charging stations and stools on both sides for meetings. LED lighting illuminates various sections that remind me of market stalls for concessions, merchandise, and meet-and-greets.

But the real beauty is the ice itself. Early for my meeting with Badaszek, I take a peek at the rink before heading to his office. The white sheet spreads smoothly like a blank canvas, ready for hat tricks and barn burners. The seating is oriented in such a way that up close, fans will feel like they’re on the ice with us and there is a VIP area that looks like it’s warmer than the rest of the area. A few of my new teammates have kids and I imagine there’s soundproofing too.

Ten kids? The question breezes through my mind. What the woman wants, the woman gets.

Leaning on the railing, I nearly startle when someone appears alongside me.

“You’re early,” says Tommy Badaszek. The Knights coach is tall with salt and pepper hair and built for hockey but well past retirement age.

“Never late,” I answer.

“Before we moved from the old building, I’d sit in the nosebleed seats, so I never forgot where I came from.”

I get his meaning and say, “Sir, with all due respect, that scenario does not apply to me. I’ve lived a front-row life.”

He chuckles. “So I’ve heard. Which makes me appreciate the pay cut you took. You didn’t have to, you know. We were offering you the full amount.”

I hadn’t told anyone about my decision when I signed the contract, but it’s only a matter of time before the press finds out that I opted for less money, so there was more for the other guys, the team, and whatever they want to spend it on.

“It’s an honorable thing,” he adds. “And if you didn’t get the memo, the Knights are all about honor, integrity, and grit. Prepare to practice hard and play harder.”

I nod, well-versed in the brutal nature of the game.

He continues, “Your behavior off the ice matters. Some coaches say to leave your private life at home. That’s a bunch of baloney. There’s overlap. How could there not be? From time to time, everyone has problems, but I have zero tolerance for drama. No puck bunnies, no affairs, no lying, cheating, or carousing. Keep your bed made, spend time with your loved ones, and show up for your hockey family.”

“Understood.”

His gaze locks on mine. “Someday, you’ll walk off the ice for the last time. On that day, I want you to think about what kind of man you want to be remembered as. What kind of legacy will you leave? Do you want to be a winner or a loser? Decide now and then let every single choice you make starting today and until your last game connect those dots.”

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