Page 52 of Keeper
“I don’t have any regrets, Vaughnsy—everything happens for a reason—but I know I wasted some of the prime years of my career because my head wasn’t in the right place. Doing the same thing, time and time again, until I was beyond sick and tired of that lifestyle. But something felt different the instant I met Molly. Don’t ask me how because I can’t explain it. It was just a feeling. But everything from that moment after just clicked—and I finally started to get my head screwed on straight. And when I held my daughter for the first time?” The memory of his firstborn daughter softened his features. “That was the push I needed to take my game to the next level. That was when I stopped playing for the wrong reasons and started playing for something bigger—for my family.”
“I hear you.” I chuckled, slightly uncomfortable. “But seriously, I barely know anything about this girl. I’m not trying to marry her or start a family. Maybe someday, sure. I just want to see her again and maybe pick up where we left off. I want to keep this shutout streak going, you know?”
“I know.” He slapped me on the back. “I’m heading home. Have a good night, okay?”
“You too.”
He was half-way out the door when he stopped in his tracks. “Hey, Vaughnsy.”
“Yeah?”
“You think you’ll run into that girl at the club again tonight?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I hope so.”
“Piece of advice? If you don’t find her, don’t do anything stupid. Open your eyes and ears, because there’s a plan for you, bud, and all you have to do to follow it is watch for the signs.”
And with that, he was gone.
I sighed.
Right. Okay. Thanks, Coops.
I knew he was only trying to help, but his cryptic messages of inspiration only mixed me up more. Besides, he was talking about marriage and babies and spirituality was obviously a big part of his life. Not that I had a problem with any of that. I just wasn’t on the same wavelength. Those weren’t things I took seriously—the only thing I took seriously was hockey.
Yeah, I wanted to find Ainsley again, but hell, most of all I just wanted to win.
18
Ainsley
In the dying seconds of the game, Boston threw one last mad scramble at the net—but Vaughn answered by doing what he did all night: making one sparkling save after another until the horn sounded. With that, the game ended, and the Devils fans in the bar jumped up and down, hooting and hollering and exchanging high fives.
“Shutout! He did it! Shutout!”
“He’s back! He’s fuckin’ back, baby!”
“Woooooooooo!”
With her cheek propped against her fist, Marta stared blankly at the TV. Clearly annoyed by the overzealous celebration going on around us, she rolled her eyes and looked at me to commiserate.
“Sorry you didn’t get the result you wanted,” I said, fighting back a celebratory smile of my own.
“Meh. It’s whatever. I don’t care.” The curl of disgust in her lip told me otherwise. “I doubt it means anything for tomorrow.” She knocked back the rest of her drink. “But Idoneed a change of scenery. Way too much male energy in here.”
I looked at the clock. “Okay. I should probably head back to your place, then. It’s getting late.”
“You’re really going home?” she asked with a pout. “I was hoping you’d change your mind once I got a couple of drinks in you.”
“Nah, I’m still wiped from last night,” I said. “And hey, I’ll need my rest if I wanna be at the top of my game tomorrow.” I nudged her with my elbow. “You probably should, too, shouldn’t you?”
“Hell no,” she said with a burgeoning smirk. “I don’t need it. No rest for the wicked.”
I laughed. “You’re a machine.”
Marta ordered me a cab on her phone app. I offered to pay her back, but she stared at me as if I were currently sprouting a second head.
“You’re my photographer, Ainsley. Your travel expenses are always paid.”
