Page 14 of Brace and Chase

CHARLIE

I makethe drive back home almost on autopilot. It’s a good thing I’ve got the GPS telling me what to do because otherwise I would’ve gotten lost about five different times. The end of the workday rush is welcome for once.

I need the time to get my thoughts in order, and though traffic in Vegas has nothing on traffic in Atlanta, it’s still an hour in a silent car where I can actually hear my own thoughts andprocess.

Gab sent me off with strict instructions to go home and rest because I’m definitely playing tomorrow according to her.

I guess she must’ve talked to Laney or something because she was pretty adamant about it. And to be fair, after that first drill where Brotnik showed us up, we got our shit together. I even think I did pretty good in the rest of the drills, even more so because I wasn’t put in front of Brotnikone single time—I’mnotcalling him Santa, that’s a stupid nickname, I’ve always thought so.

So maybe our head coach along with the assistant coach were happy with me. Maybe they’ll put me on the first line next to Mater—officially have me taking over for Fire.

I think that would be best, honestly, and not because I’ve been on the first line my whole career, but because Mater actuallytalkedto me and I feel like he’s the least likely to make a fuss over having to play alongside me. He’s also a really good fucking player, not to mention I’d be in the same line as Jules fucking Dupont.

I had a moment or two during practice when I turned and saw him right there, just playing hockey or just panting out breaths. It was surreal. He looked so human and normal. And that’s when I had the reaction to him I should’ve had at Gab’s house. I was in awe of him. His talent, his clear joy for the game, yes of course, but the focus and dedication. The way he talked to the guys around him. The way he was clearly the person giving the most of himself on the ice.

It was fucking inspiring, and I know that if I get a chance to be on the ice with him, wearing the same sweater as him, I’m going to give my all too.

I mean, all the other players were also working their asses off, me included, but I’m used to being the best at practices, the only one who really lives and dies for every push off my skates. It was pretty cool, knowing I’m not the only one giving it my all anymore.

I don’t expect anyone else in the team to be overlyfriendly to me, and I don’t blame them. Hell, they all probably know Brotnik way better than I do, so I bet no one wants to piss him off by talking to me. That’s a bummer, because it means my relationship with my teammates will be exactly the same as it was in Atlanta—detached, lukewarm, and an overall letdown.

I can live with that, especially if I get a Stanley Cup at the end of the season, and since that’s inexplicably still on the table even after the shitty day I had, I’m going to decide to focus on that.

And I won’t be focusing on Brotnik. At least not for now. I have a job to do with him, I know I do. I’m actually already thinking about different ways I can push the subject with him. But first I need to find a way to get him to talk to me. Step one would be to find out why he hates me. Step two hash it out, then ask for forgiveness for whatever I did, and then hopefully we can become such close friends that he’ll listen to me when I tell him retiring isn’t the end of the world.

Yeah, right, I mentally scoff at myself. After today I don’t think there’s a chance in hell of that happening.

Figuring out how to make someone like me isn’t something I’ve been interested in since fifth grade. I know I’m going to have to put in the work there at some point, but for today I’m going to do what Gab told me to and rest and get ready for tomorrow.

A thrill of excitement fills me at the thought of playing in front of a full arena again, and I smile as I finally get tothe highway and can accelerate. I can’t wait to make it home now.

I parkthe car in the open garage on the side of the house and walk into the kitchen to a heavenly new smell.

“Hey, Ma,” I call out while I dump my duffel in the doorway to the laundry room.

“Charlie, come meet Michelle and Kelly.” Mom sounds excited and happy enough, and when I turn I see two women, one shortish with black hair, and the other very tall with brown hair. Like, almost six feet tall.

“Hi,” I say, not knowing how else to approach the situation. They look to be in their mid-thirties if I had to guess, but I have no ideawhatthey’re doing here, or who they are so... yeah, this is awkward, and I hate feeling awkward. I look at my mom, trying to tell her with a look that I need help, otherwise I’m about to lose my mind, and she smiles tenderly at me.

“They’re your next-door neighbors, son. They brought you over a pie to welcome you.”

That’s when I see it—a perfect-looking pie on the kitchen counter. The sweet smell of apple and cinnamon goes straight to my head like the best drug in the world.

“Sweet mother of?—”

“Charles Heart, watch your mouth,” Mom interrupts me with her no-nonsense tone.

“Mom,” I tell her, motioning to the pie without looking away from it. And it doesnotsound like a whine. “It smells like all my dreams came true,” I defend myself.

“I know, honey. But I raised you better than this.” She sounds exasperated and I don’t know why. She should know better than to expect me to focus on anything but the food of the gods when I have a pie in front of me.Oh, right.

My eyes snap up to the two strangers and I offer them the best smile I have.

“Hello.” I walk over and offer them my hand to shake. If that brings me closer to the pie, then that’spure coincidence. I swear.

I see my mother giving me the stink-eye from my periphery and stand straight.

“Thank you so much for bringing this over. You really didn’t have to, but I want you to know I will show this pie all the love it deserves.”

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