Page 128 of Hot for the Hockey Player
Hopefully, we’d still have enough of a team to play, because something told me Henderson and Franks weren’t the only ones from the Storm playing Bingo.
I was good at compartmentalizing, putting everythingnoton the ice out of my head while I was in my skates and with my team.But now that I had more in my life than just hockey, would I be able to keep that focus?Or would I be at center ice thinking about the people here on the island and how much I missed them?
My entire life had revolved around hockey since the day I was born, and now that I knew there was more out there, more to do, more to enjoy than just scoring goals and skating, I’d never felt more unsettled about my future and where I fit into Gabrielle’s.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Gabrielle
Thelasttwoweeksat home with Damon and Laurel were ones from hell.They alternated between being incredibly sad, then angry with me, then angry with Maverick.Mostly with me though.
I didn’t lie to them.I never lied to my children.I told them that Maverick got a clean bill of health from his doctor, and that I had told him that he would regret not going back and playing with his team.Because that was the truth.He would regret it, and like Kirby said, ultimately, resent me—resent my kids—for keeping him here.
Maverick needed to decide on his own, with no extraneous factors weighing in, whether he wanted to continue playing professional hockey or not.And I knew that if he came back to the island, he would choose to stay.I could see it in his eyes after that last Sunday night before he left, when we ate another beautiful meal as a family, and things felt wholesome and perfect, that he would choose us.The love and contentment on his face told me that without a shadow of a doubt, he’d give up his dream for us.
And I couldn’t let him do that.
So I sent him away.
Itoldhim to go.
Then I hung up the phone and sobbed like I’d never sobbed before.
Because fucking hell, I was in love with him.As hard as I tried to fight it all: the attraction, the chemistry, the longing, Maverick Roy went and made me fall in love with him, and now my heart was broken.So were my kids’ hearts, and that was what was probably the most devastating part of it all.
I warned him.I warned myself that it was more than just my heart at play, and we tried to keep it light and casual, and drive home the impermanence of his stay.But the heart doesn’t listen to that kind of talk.It just absorbed all the wonderful things about him, the way he made me feel, the way he made my kids feel, and it went and fell in love with him anyway.All of our hearts did.
And now they were shattered.
I could function with a broken heart.I taped it up, slapped on a smile, and pretended like everything was okay, because that’s what moms do.My kids, on the other hand, were devastated.
I could try to blame Maverick for their pain, but ultimately, it was my fault.I let him into our home, into our hearts.So their ache was because of me, and the guilt over that was downright debilitating.
It was Friday night and the Portland Storm was playing a home game against Colorado.It was one of the last games before the playoffs and the Storm were on the edge of even qualifying.This game would determine if they’d be among the elite sixteen teams vying for the Stanley Cup.
It was also the first game Maverick was going to play since getting the all clear from his doctor.He’d been going to the games, sitting with his team, but his coach kept him benched until Maverick trained and practiced with them a bit.At least that’s what the sportscasters said when Damon had the games on.
Once in a while, the camera would pan to Maverick sitting on the bench with his team in his suit, chatting and smiling with one of his teammates.When he caught the camera watching him, he’d throw a half-hearted smile or wave at the fans, which just caused the stands to erupt into cheers and claps.I was sure tonight’s game would be met with a deafening welcome as his skates hit the ice.
Five minutes to the five o’clock puck drop, and I was stirring a big pot of white bean turkey chili on the stove as Laurel sat in the corner of the sectional, reading.Damon chewed on this thumbnail and leaned forward on the couch, watching with intensity as the players and fans sang the national anthem with a Portland choir singer.
Laurel lifted her head from her book.“You see him yet?”
“No,” Damon murmured, inching forward a little more until he was barely perched on the cushion at all.“There!”He leaped up to his feet and pointed at the television just as the camera panned across the faces of the Storm.All the players stood in their gear, hands over their hearts, helmets on as they sang The Star-Spangled Banner.
I know it wasn’t actually the case, but Maverick looked right into the camera, and I could have sworn he was looking at me as his gaze turned serious and a little dark.
I swallowed, and my insides tightened.
The national anthem ended, and the teams skated off to their benches.
“Holy cow, they’re starting Maverick,” Damon exclaimed, slowly sitting back down.“They need him more than ever on their first string now that Franks and Henderson are out.”
It was more than just Henderson and Franks that weren’t on the bench though.Since Maverick left and the news about the Bingo card hit mainstream media, four other Portland Storm players were charged with sexual assault and rape.Rhys Dellenbaum, their backup goalie; Cortland Smythe and Bjorn Hanson, two defensemen; and Lindsey Ward, a third-string center.The Storm was at the center of a media frenzy with the team apparently hyper-polarized in the locker room.I read one article that said many players didn’t feel safe around Maverick anymore because of his podcast, and it was like he was on a witch hunt, while others were speaking out and saying Maverick was in the right and they all should have said something sooner.
All I could say to that was, if you’re innocent, there’s no reason not to feel safe.
The puck dropped and like one of those black and white swirly things spinning in front of my face, I became hypnotized.I never lost sight of Maverick, or the number twelve on his jersey, as he got the puck first and zipped up the ice halfway to the net before passing it to Woodman who took it straight to the net, narrowly avoiding a Colorado player bashing him into the boards.He took the shot and—”
