Page 54 of Off Season

“I find all of this so fascinating,” Jacob states, gazing up at the marble statue in front of us. The information sign says it’s Apollo, sculpted in 1577. “I wonder if the people who made these ever thought that they would be displayed proudly in a museum centuries later.”

“Probably not,” I reply, turning to face him. “But I’ve always wondered why all these sculptures have small cocks.”

“Ethan!” Jacob snorts under his breath, slapping my arm playfully with the back of his hand. “I think I read somewhere that having a small penis was a sign of virtue, and having a big cock was a sign of barbarism, little self-control, and a gluttonous appetite.”

He gives me a knowing look. “Which, we know, isn’t the case now, as you are far from a barbarian.”

I roll my lips, suppressing a smile. “Are you saying that Iwouldn’t have a marble statue of me in the nude in the future? Maybe in the Hockey Hall of Fame?”

“No, I’m not saying that, but if they did, I would be the first in line for the unveiling,” he says, winking.

We’ve come to London to do some more exploring, including a visit to the Victoria and Albert Museum, which was on Jacob’s bucket list. I booked us a night at Claridge’s and also booked a table tomorrow for afternoon tea.

Our time here is coming to an end. In a few days, we’ll be heading back to Chicago, and I’m not sure how I feel about it. When I suggested giving into desire while we’re here, I didn’t expect to find myself so…at ease with Jacob.

It feels very natural. Seamless.

It makes me question whether we could continue this when we get back, but then the negative side of my brain questions if it’s this good because there are no expectations. If it’s easy because we’re just giving in to the chemistry, no strings attached.

“Do you think you’ll end up being in the Hockey Hall of Fame?” Jacob asks after a beat, pulling me out of my head.

I shrug. “No idea.”

There are rumors I’ll be nominated once I’m eligible. You have to be fully retired for a minimum of three years before you can be considered, so it’s not something I like to think about.

“I think you will. I can understand your fears, Ethan, of not knowing who you are outside of hockey, but you can have this.” He motions around us. “In the world of hockey, your name would be here. Your legacy will be so magnificent, so awed by many, for generations to come. You won’tbe forgotten the second you hang up your skates. Like, your name is engraved on the Stanley Cup how many times?”

My lips twitch. “Five.”

“Five, Ethan,five. I know nothing about hockey, but I know for sure that that is an incredible achievement. Plus, you’ve won Gold for Canada in the Olympics twice, along with a number of other gold medals and awards.”

Unsure how to handle his high praise, I turn and walk to the next statue, gazing up at the magnificent sculpture.

Hockey has been my life for as long as I can remember, and it’s a bittersweet pill to swallow knowing that my time playing professionally is coming to an end.

Jacob steps in front of me, reaching up to cup my face with one hand. “Don’t run away from me. I don’t think you truly see how special you are—which is amazing. You’re incredibly humble for someone in your position, with your talent, but I think you underestimate the power your name has. Just because you hang up your skates in the professional sense doesn’t mean your involvement in hockey is over.”

I furrow my brows in a frown. “What do you mean?”

“What if you started something like a foundation for underprivileged kids to play hockey? Kids just like you were. Think about how many kids are out there who have so much potential, but whose parents or caregivers can’t afford it.”

There’s a pang in my chest at the thought. I was fortunate that my mom never gave up. She saw something special in me. Saw the passion and dedication I had and did whatever she possibly could to ensure I had the means to keep playing, but not all kids get that opportunity.

And it’s not for a lack of trying. Some parents can’t physically do what my mom did, working three jobs and pouring every cent that wasn’t for rent or food into my hockey future.

I’m so fucking lucky to have my mom.

“There were a lot of kids like me growing up. It’s an expensive sport, and kids grow out of their equipment so quickly.” I chew on the corner of my lip. “I’m not very…personable, though.”

I’m not good with people, despite having been chosen as Captain. But that’s different. When it comes to hockey, I’m in my element, talking to guys already on the same wavelength.

I struggle with everything else.

“I don’t know how it would work. You’d probably need some legal advice, but you could hire someone to do the people-ing, and you could be as much or as little involved as you wanted.”

“Maybe I could speak with some of my sponsors, see if they would want to donate too.” My mind begins to run wild at all the possibilities. “I could provide equipment and help pay for ice time, and it would be completely inclusive, since so many girls don’t get the same opportunities boys do.” I slip my phone out of the pocket of my jeans and start to type in my notes app as the ideas rush to the surface. “I could do like an age bracket. Five to seventeen or something, because if you’re picked up by a top NCAA college, you’ll usually get your equipment for free.”

“There you go.” He squeezes my bicep, tipping his head up to face me, and flashes me a dazzling smile. “I have no idea what you just said, but the passion in your eyes speaksvolumes. Just because you’re not on the ice yourself doesn’t mean your impact on the sport has to end there. Help pave the way for the next generation of superstars in honor of that little boy who never gave up.”

---