Page 98 of Enticing the Enforcer
“Not bad,” Reid says, leaning back in his chair. Behind him, I can see his sketch pads stacked high, a marker tucked behind his ear. “My team in New York is competitive as hell, but I’m holding my own. Balancing ice time with design gigs isn’t easy, though. The athletic department at Wittmore gave me a contract I couldn’t refuse–new logos, merch lines, all of it.”
“Guy can’t stay away from art if he tried,” Axel teases.
“Also a good excuse to visit Shelby.”
“How is she?” I ask, although Ingrid and the other girls keep up better than we do.
“She’s good. Still at the Den, taking a couple classes. She moved into the Teal House after Twyler and Nadia left. Oh shit,” he adds, running a hand through his ginger hair. “You won’t believe who moved into the Manor.”
“Emerson said they tried but it was already rented,” I say.
“Yep. It’s those guys from Serendee. Coach set them up, I think. There’s some girl with them too.”
“A girl?” Axel perks up immediately. “Living in the Manor?”
The blasphemy.
“Yeah, a sister or something? I’m not sure. She’s got that vibe, you know.”
Everyone nods. ‘That vibe’ means long hair and dresses. The Serendee vibe.
Reid shrugs. “Shelby’s pretty wary of anything religious or culty after the way you guys were raised.” He nods toward Axel’s box. “Honestly, they kind of freak me out too.”
“They’re good players, though,” Reese notes. “But we all know it takes more than talent to be a good teammate and compete at the highest levels. Hope they don’t fuck up our legacy.”
Axel leans forward, camera flashing over his pierced nipple. “What about you, Parks? How’s Florida?”
“Like you give a shit about Florida,” I challenge. “You want to know about Grant Pierce, right?”
“Obviously.” Axel smirks. “I want to know everything. What does he eat, what type of deodorant does he use, the kind of jockstrap he prefers.”
“Stop being a psycho,” Reese tells him, but he’s leaning a little closer too, like he wants all the details himself.
I don’t give them much–just that preseason’s started, I’m putting in hours with the trainers, getting into routine. They don’t need the details; they know how it goes.
“And Ingrid?” Reid asks, clearly prompted by someone just off screen. His girlfriend, no doubt.
“She’s good.” I can’t stop the smile that pulls at my face. “The Vegas residency announcement was huge. Six months on the Strip. Which means for once we’re both in places we actually get to stay awhile. No buses, no hotel hopping. Just…home bases.”
There’s a beat of silence before Axel whistles. “So, Parksy, let me get this straight. You’ve got a pro contract, your pop star girl’s got a Vegas residency, and you’re living in Florida sunshine. You really did win the damn lottery.”
I laugh and look across the room. Ingrid’s curled up on the chair in the corner, notepad balanced on her knee. She’s been writing and the whole process is fascinating to watch. She looksup at me and gives me one of those smiles that bottoms out my stomach. “Feels that way.”
And for the first time, it doesn’t feel like I’m chasing the next thing. It feels like I’ve already found it.
*
Three Months After That
Ingrid
The WAGs section is buzzing,though most of the women sit in their polished coats and perfect makeup, more focused on sipping wine than the game. It’s a home game, so Twyler is a little out of place in herCain #15jersey among the Florida fans, but nothing’s going to stop her from supporting her man.
I'm wearing a custom Reid Wilder-designed hockey jacket. Team colors stitched across the sleeves, Jefferson’s name and number bold across the back. When he presented me with the sketch, I was amazed and immediately sent it off to be made. He’d outdone himself with the detailing; it feels like both a fashion statement and a declaration.
My phone buzzes, and I check the screen. A laugh slips out before I can stop it.
“What?” Twyler leans over, ponytail brushing my shoulder.
