Page 29 of Offside Attraction

“Helluva pass, bud,” he bumped mitts with Steele, who grinned back, cocky as ever.

Back in the tunnel, the team was buzzing. Chubs was still yapping about his penalty while Steele replayed his assist like it was worthy of a Gordie Howe nod. Jordan tugged off his helmet as they reached the locker room, shaking out his damp hair.

The locker room buzzed with victory-induced swagger. Jordan dropped onto the bench, tugging at his laces.

“Boys, you see those beauties in the first two periods? Had their breakouts looking like a herd of blind cattle. Couldn’t transition for shit,” Chubs crowed, slapping Steele on the back.

Steele tossed his gloves into his bag. “Yeah, ‘til the third, when they started lobbing pucks behind us. We were playing fetch.”

Jordan nodded. “They started dumping in and grinding us down low, and we got caught puck-watching.”

Matty grabbed his towel and headed to the shower. “You boys done analyzing yet, or do you want to go back out and play the third again?”

Steele flipped him off as Jordan peeled off his gear, his muscles starting to cool. He stripped off his jersey then his pads, then sat down and pulled his phone from the locker.

There were a couple messages from work, but the credit card notification caught his attention first. He tapped on it, and the hotel total popped up on his screen. There must have been a few extras from the total, but he didn’t care.

He pictured Claire sitting alone in that hotel room, ordering room service. Jordan's chest tightened. This bill meant she’d checked out, but where had she gone next? Had she found another hotel? Crashed with a friend? He hated that he didn't know.

He thought about the Reviact information Rhonda had shown him. The results she'd shared were impressive, and he'd gone down the rabbit hole after she left. Everything he'd read lined up with what she'd told him. The drug reduced cravings, helped with withdrawal symptoms, and had a high success rate in keeping people clean.

Jordan laid his equipment on the bench, grabbed his towel, then stalked to the showers. He wanted to believe it was that simple. That he could just hand his sister a pill and everything would be solved. But after watching her for ten years, he knew better than that. Addiction was a beast. It dug in deep and didn't let go without a fight.

He hung his towel on the hook and cranked the shower handle, the tile cold against his feet. As the hot water hit his skin, Jordan let out a long breath and dropped his head under the spray.

What would it take to get Reviact approved at Rocky Ridge? He knew convincing the hospital board would be a gauntlet. And he certainly couldn’t be the one to push for it.

Dr. Mallory still looked at him as a liability after what happened with Claire. He'd been the one to give her access to the cabinets at the hospital, albeit unknowingly. He should have questioned why she was suddenly interested in visiting him at work, but was it so terrible that he wanted to believe she could’ve been there for him?

She'd been struggling, and he'd thought he was helping, but all he'd done was give her the keys to the kingdom. When bottles of oxycodone were unaccounted for and Jordan’s card was linked, he’d taken the blame. Even after Claire was caught and admitted everything, his relationship with Dr. Mallory had been torched.

He’d been naive, and it was his responsibility to keep hospital resources safe and the people around him accountable. He was still working on clawing his way out of that hole.

Jordan scrubbed himself down, then turned off the water and towelled off. He couldn't afford to ask for any favours from Dr. Mallory now. Possibly in another five years, but even that wasn’t looking promising.

Before he could finish drying, Cam called his name. Jordan walked out of the shower area, towel around his waist. Cam was sitting on the bench, holding up his phone. "You see this?"

Jordan frowned and walked over. Cam handed him the phone, and he read the text from their rink's manager.

"Due to unexpected emergency renovations, our rink will be closed for the next month. All practices and games, including youth programs, will be relocated to the Ice Centre . . ."

Jordan's stomach dropped as he scanned the rest of the message directing him to the attachment for changes to some practice times. He re-read the name and location of their new home.

The Ice Centre. In the Northwest.

The Snowballs’ home rink.

Cam’s expression mirrored Jordan’s. "Looks like we're about to get a lot more familiar with our competition."

Chapter

Nine

Rhonda

Rhonda's suitcase gaped open,awaiting her offering of Anthropologie skirts and Eliza Faulkner tops. Transitioning to fall colours was part of her job description. It was a tough life, but somebody had to do it.

She tossed her hair over one shoulder as she surveyed the piles of clothing strewn across the duvet, then grabbed a seersucker white blouse from the pile. It was tempting fate to wear white to dinner, but if she paired it with a blazer, she could close the button as needed if she spilled or splashed salad dressing.

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