Page 9 of Brace and Chase

“Took you long enough,” is her only greeting. She stands and walks over. It’s only when she’s standing right in front of me, looking up into my eyes that I realize how short she is. Only in stature, because I feel the weight of her presence and of her stare instantly. This woman knows exactly who she is, what she stands for, and the power she holds.

I like her immediately.

“Ma’am,” I tell her with a nod. “Nice to meet you.”

“Well, look at that, a boy with manners,” she drawls, and looks sideways at Jules who rolls his eyes at her. It seems wrong that he’d be so disrespectful to her but she ignores him. There must be a lot of familiarity between them.

There sure is more trust and simple care between them than there ever was with me and the owner of the Atlanta Revenge, which wouldn’t take much admittedly. I think I barely talked to the man for a combined hour in the fifteen years I worked for him.

And that’s another reason—one I didn’t tell my mother about—why I decided to piss off everyone in Atlanta and come out of retirement. For this woman right here. For Gab fucking Darnell. Yes, winning a Stanley Cup is the ultimate goal for this season, but getting the chance to be part of an organization that’s run well—or at least run better than the Revenge—was too good to pass up.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I tell her, figuring it’s the best way to start out.

“Nice to meet you too, Charlie Heart. Do you want me to call you by your nickname?” she asks with a straight face. Something tells me she doesn’t want to do that but would agree if I say yes, so I put her at ease.

“Not necessary.” I turn to look Jules in the eyes. “From anyone. Charlie’s just fine.”

“It’s just that I call my babies sweetheart, so...” I smile as she trails off with a shrug.

“Yeah, I don’t know if I want to piss off Ster by calling you that,” Jules agrees.

I barely manage to keep my smile in place and my eyes open normally at the casual way Jules drops that bit of info. It’s not the fact that he’s referring to a man or that he’s married to a man, it’s the fact that that man isSterling.

I’m a fan.

Of course I’m a fucking fan. Anyone with a brain should be a fan of him and his music, just like anyone who enjoys hockey—playing or watching—should be a fan of Jules “Picard” Dupont.

But Jules doesn’t have that effect on me for whatever reason. Maybe because I’m a hockey player too? Maybe because I’ve faced off against him more than a handful of times and some of those I’ve come away with the puck?

He’s still the best fucking player in the world, I’m well aware of that, but he’s not unreachable. And he seems so human right now, talking about his husband the way anyone married would.

I like that too.

“Right, so I have to go home or else there’ll be hell to pay,” he tells Gab with a nod and then claps me on the shoulder. “See you tomorrow.” That’s more directed at me than at Gab, so I nod back then turn back to Gab.

“You want anything to drink?” she asks way too casually. “Or eat?” she screws up her face in confusion. “What time is it?” Not waiting for an answer, she goes back to her tablet and checks the time. “Damn, it’s late. Let’s order something, shall we?”

“Sure,” I say low. I can’t believe this is how she is with her players. I don’t think there’s another team owner in the world who’s like this. I sure as hell haven’t met one.

“You have any preferences?” she asks without looking up from her phone.

“Not really. Although I’d like some carbs and protein.” My stomach grumbles just then and I realize I haven’t eaten as much as I need to today. It’s going to be tough getting back in shape. Although I’ve kept up some in the gym, it’s nowhere near what I need to do to be season-ready.

“I know just the thing.” Gab makes the call and I decide to sit on the couch next to her ottoman and wait for her to tell me what she needs from me—besides signing the final contract of course.

It’s only then it dawns on me that she told the team, or Jules at least, about me coming here. All before I signed on the dotted line.

“So you told the team already, huh?” I ask as soon as she puts her phone on the table.

“Yeah, I told them five days ago when everything was agreed on.” She looks straight at me with an expression that clearly expects trouble. She shouldn’t be worried, I’m not about to argue with her about anything. But I do have questions.

“Who knows about the favor?” I decide being vague is the best way to go but I get the least expected reaction.

She snorts as she sits back down.

“No one. Are you crazy?” She laughs loudly and looks at me like I’m a foolish little child. “I’m not happy about asking this of you. I’m not happy that I feel like it needs to be done. The last thing I would do is tell anyone who might mistake my motives.”

I do wonder about those motives, but I hardly think I’m in any position to question them.

---