Page 132 of Hot for the Hockey Player
“Sure.”I nodded.
She wrangled Marco into helping her, and the two of them went to the kitchen to dish up everyone a bowl.
I sat back on the couch beside Damon as a sweat-soaked Maverick still in his jersey came on the screen.His rosy cheeks and bright-blue eyes just made the ache in my heart intensify.
“You must be happy to be back,” asked the reporter, holding a microphone in Maverick’s face as his teammates walked behind him, heading to the locker room.“Did it feel like coming home?”
Maverick smiled a calm, content smile that just solidified in my soul that telling him to go back to the game was the right thing to do.“It felt good to be back with my teammates and on the ice again, yeah.But you know, when I took that fall, I realized my body has been trying to tell me something, and I just refused to listen.”
“What’s that?”
“While I was fine,this time.I wasn’t last time, and I might not be the next.This was my final game.I’m going out on my own terms, not because of injury, not because I’ve pissed off the league for speaking out against my criminal teammates—or criminal brother—but because I wasn’tbornto play hockey.I was born.I played hockey.And now I want to do something else.”
“Are you saying, you’re retiring … tonight?”The reporter asked in shock.“Just when the Storm qualified for the playoffs?”
Maverick nodded.“I am.I’m glad I played this game.It was an amazing game, probably the best game of my life, but I’ll be cheering on my boys from the stands now.I’m confident that Woodman, Garver, Dahl, Allard, Price, and Silby will get this team through the playoffs and win the Cup.They’re amazing guys and I’ll be rooting for them all the way.”
There were slack jaws all around my living room as we sat there in silence.
“Well, you’ve heard it here first.Maverick Roy, number twelve for the Portland Storm, is retiring from hockey.”The reporter turned to face the camera.“I’m Felix Fitzpatrick with SportsZone News Now.And this isStraight From the Ice.”
Damon turned to face me.“So … does that mean he’s coming back?”
A flutter of excitement mixed with worry swirled through me.“I don’t know.”
I’d never felt more joy, more excitement in my life since bumping into Maverick in the grocery store.But I’d also never felt more uncertainty either.And given our last words, something told me the man wouldn’t be coming back, certainly not to see me.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Gabrielle
It’dbeenanothertwoweeks since Maverick had officially retired from the NHL, and we hadn’t heard a word from him, let alone seen him.The kids, however, seemed to be over his departure and we were back to lifepre-Maverick.Less exciting, less colorful, less flavorful, but still good.Life was once again routine and predictable.
Damon continued to thrive in homeschool, and Laurel, who won an essay contest at school, was riding that high and practicing her public speaking at home, since she had to read her essay at the school assembly later that day.I wasn’t allowed to read it or hear her practice because parents were invited to attend the assembly, and she wanted me to hear it for the first time when she read it aloud.
Yes, my kids were doing well, and their hearts seemed to be on the mend.It wasn’t just tape and hope keeping them together now.
My heart, however, was still cobbled together with duct tape and positive thinking, even though I honestly wasn’t sure it would ever truly heal.
We were bottling wine at the vineyard and busy as hell now that spring was officially here, so that helped keep my mind off Maverick—sort of.However, when I wasn’t in the barn bottling with my cousins, or in my office working, my mind went rampant with thoughts of him, and that’s when my heart hurt the most.
I thought for sure after he retired, he’d come back.
Unless his time away helped him realize that the island, and being with us, wasn’t actually what he wanted at all, and he really was moving on.
I was busy prepping dinner while Damon did his schoolwork at the kitchen table.Laurel was still at school, and we were set to go to her assembly in about an hour.With the souvlaki chicken and lemon Greek potatoes marinating in their respective bags, I decided to torture myself by listening to the latest episode of Maverick’s podcast.Because he was still doing that.And bringing on bigger and bigger names.
Damon’s voice announcing the podcast made me smile.With the help of Maverick’s marketing guru, they’d jazzed up the intro, but it was still my son with a surprisingly charismatic tone.I glanced over at him, his face shielded by his brown floppy hair as he did his homework, headphones on.
“Hey, and we’re back,” Maverick said into my ears, his deep, raspy voice making my nipples instantly pebble.“And we’ve got a very special guest on this episode … my brother … Riot Roy.Welcome, Ri.”
“Thanks for having me on, little brother.”
“I’m sure our listeners held their breath for a moment when I said, ‘my brother,’ then sighed in relief when it wasn’tthatbrother.”
Riot chuckled awkwardly.“You said we can be real and candid on this show?”
“As real as you can be, bro.”
