Page 20 of Gamechanger

My breath caught in my throat, and I wasn't sure what to say. Something was going on between us, and I wasn't sure whether I was ready to discuss it. It wasn't just friendship, was it?

"Finn? You still there?"

"Yeah, sorry. I guess I'm a little lost in my thoughts." It was more like I was drowning in a sea of realization.

"Something you want to talk about?"

I hesitated. Did I want to talk about it? Could I figure out a way to put my feelings into words? Could I tell him how his voice cradled me like a safety net, how I wished he was at the game, and how talking to him made the world a better place? How did you tell a friend you were falling for them?

"I… um, no, not yet, but maybe soon?"

Moose's voice was soft when he answered. "Whenever you're ready. There's no pressure, though. We can jaw on about the best pizza toppings or this awesome old movie theater I discovered."

I settled back against the pillows and listened. The content wasn't significant, but the sound of Moose's voice was. While he talked, the tension in my muscles melted away, and a warm sensation spread through my body.

We talked for almost another hour until I started to fade. Moose called me on that.

"Hey there, Finn. I think you need your sleep. It's another big day tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah. We've got one more game, and then I get to come home. Another dinner out?"

"Or I can make a Moose-tastic homemade lasagna."

The thought of a quiet night in with Moose, just the two of us, excited me. I smiled. "That sounds great."

"Goodnight, Finn. You get some rest, bud."

"You, too. Night, Moose."

After setting the phone down, I stared at the dark screen for a moment. Every word from Moose ran back through my mind.I could hear his laughter. What did it all mean? I wanted to be close to him every time I thought about him… which was often. I wanted to make him laugh.

A sore muscle in my ribs twinged when I rolled onto my right side. It was a reminder of Donovan Michaels' treachery. Still, the pain couldn't chase away the lingering warmth from my conversation with Moose.

Chapter seven

Moose

Itook a deep breath as I stood at the Sentinel Hotel's grand ballroom entrance. The transformation of the space into a holiday wonderland was stunning. The Portland Lumberjacks' first Christmas party for team and staff was about fifty worlds away from the depressing dorm socials I attended in college. There, a wilting poinsettia and a sad 3-foot-tall artificial tree with a string of half-burnt-out lights were the twin pinnacles of sophistication.

Straight ahead of me, a hundred or more crystals hung from a massive chandelier. Garlands of deep-green pine wound around pillars tied off by festive red and white ribbons. The roomsmelled like a Christmas carol, a warm melody of evergreen, cinnamon, and clove.

At the far end, a towering Christmas tree rose at least fifteen feet toward the ceiling, decked with ornaments showing our team logo.

My heart raced. It was my first major social team event since being hired, and the stakes were high. Would the other staff welcome me with open arms? Or was I still an outsider? Did I really belong in the rarefied world of top-level professional sports?

I straightened my tie. The suit I splurged on for the event felt strange. It fit me better than any formal clothes I'd ever owned, but part of me longed for the comfort of an old college T-shirt and jeans with threadbare knees.

As I scanned the room, I saw multiple familiar faces—Sergei's stoic countenance, Coach Fraser's hint of a holiday grin, and Blaise looking mischievous. Perky holiday music played in the background while light chatter filled the air. Finally, I spotted the man I most wanted to see—Finn.

He stood by a massive ice sculpture of the team logo. My breath caught in my throat, but his presence comforted me, kicking my insecurities to the curb.

I took another deep breath, held my head high, and strolled into the room. Regardless of the doubts nagging at the base of my brain, I was there. I was part of the Portland Lumberjacks. It was my new world, as terrifying and exhilarating as that might be.

"Moose! Get your butt over here!" Sergei's gruff voice cut through the music and the chatter. He stood by a buffet table, sampling what looked like shrimp on crackers.

I wove past small groups of players, staff, and their plus-ones, nodding and smiling along the way. "Are you trying to spread your cheerful personality around, old man?"

Sergei briefly smiled, and I worried his weathered face might crack. "Oh, they all know me. I'm the old news in this organization. Still, the food tastes nice. Watch out for Blaise, too much eggnog already."

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