Page 14 of Playoff
We stood and I hugged him, tightly.
"Love you, Jus."
"I love you too, Jess."
Chapter 7
We're hockey players
Alek
* * *
I set an alarm for morning, which came far too early. The time change was going to be a bitch to adjust to. At least I’d slept well after an excellent round of sex with the sweet-looking brunette. Cursing a few times, I got up when the annoying sound went off and showered. Living on the West Coast meant that most away games involved adapting to a different time zone, so it wasn’t something new.
Once I was out of the shower and checked my phone, a lot of notifications popped up. Messages from the Blaze, including that the team captain, Cooper, would pick me up for practice—I checked the time—shortly. The practice was “optional,” but as the new guy, I needed to be there. I wasn't sure if Cooper had come up with this idea on his own to be nice, or if he had been assigned babysitting duty by the team.
I was also now a member of a group chat including all the players on the team. Not my thing, but I didn’t know anyone in Toronto anymore, and hopefully I could at least get recommendations on places to eat and maybe a lead on a rental from my new teammates.
There was also something from PR. Press outlets wanted to speak to me, and they’d like to set up a time. Fuck. If it was an introduction of the new guy, it would be bad enough after the illegal stick penalty in my last game, but my parents’ Ponzi scheme was going to come up. The press had mostly gotten over that in the US, but this was Canada, where my parents had screwed people over. They still asked about it when I was on press duty after away games up here, so they sure as fuck were going to ask now.
I convinced the PR people to put it off for a day to give me a chance to settle in without distractions. I could at least meet the team without that coming up first thing.
The Blaze needed scoring, since Josh Middleton was out, so I should be welcomed in the locker room. But LA had gotten so little back in return for me that my apparent value was low. Toronto was my fifth team, and I wasn't sure I'd have many other teams willing to take a gamble on me after this season if I didn’t do well.
Fucking Weasel. I’d been trying to improve my rep. When I first made it in the league, signing a big contract, I’d partied hard, pushed some boundaries. I was young and needed to let my frustration with my family out somehow. I was older now, and I didn't fuck around as much. But that bet would bring up all my previous mistakes in people’s minds.
I didn’t want to add being late to my other perceived flaws, so I dressed and was ready early. I’d left the elevator in the lobby, trying to avoid contact with anyone, when the front desk clerk called, “Mr. Denbrowski!”
Fuck. People turned to look. I strode over. “Yes?”
I must have sounded angry, because his eyes rounded. “Um, I have a message for you.”
The team had been communicating on my phone, so the message wasn’t from them. I braced myself.
He passed over an envelope. My name was written on the outside, care of the hotel, no room number. I ripped open the seal, and after the first sentence, crumpled it into a ball.
“Thanks,” I told the clerk and headed outside the hotel to wait for my new captain. I shoved the letter into my pocket to show Agent Miller later. Someone my parents had stolen from wanted to be sure I knew they didn’t like me.
Fuck, it was cold here. I was blowing on my hands when Cooper pulled up in his Bentley. It was easy to recognize him—he was one of the top players in the league and had more endorsements than any other player I knew.
I'd bought a knit cap in the hotel shop, so at least my head wasn't freezing. Still, Cooper smirked when he saw my bare jaw.
"Get in, Denny. By the way, most people grow facial hair when they come to Canada instead of shaving it off."
I slid into his car, enjoying the heat inside. With a glance at him, I pulled off the hat.
He stopped smirking when he saw my shaved head. "What the hell happened?"
"I lost a bet."
“You need to be more careful about the bets you take.”
I shrugged and pulled on the hat. “Seemed pretty safe—use a teammate’s stick for a couple of shifts. Coaches don’t call for that to be checked.”
Understanding hit. “Bad luck, then?”
I tapped my thumb on my leg. “The guy I bet with told someone on the other team to make sure his coach called the illegal stick.”
