Chapter 14

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

RYAN

The warm scent of coffee and baked goods greets us as we push inside Auntie B’s. That scent never gets old. My teammates and I beeline for our usual corner booth, nodding at the waitstaff we’ve come to know over countless post-practice hangouts.

“Evening, boys!” Sarah, one of the regular servers, calls from behind the counter. “The usual?”

“You know it,” I reply, sliding into the worn leather seat.

Andrew plops down across from me, his broad shoulders taking up most of the booth. “Man, I’m starving. That practice was brutal.”

Easton and Jonas squeeze in beside us, and I can feel the energy thrumming through all of us, that post-workout high mixed with the comfort of routine. Our quintet is missing a member. Blake headed out right after practice. No doubt to be with Amanda. It’s a little concerning, considering he’s never taken any relationship seriously, but I respect Amanda’s intelligence. She knows what she’s doing.

Doesn’t mean I won’t have her back if needed.

I’ll always be watchful.

Just as I am for Madison.

Shaking those thoughts, I scan the chalkboard menu out of habit, even though I know I’ll get my standard turkey club with rice pilaf and steamed broccoli. Old habits die hard, I guess. Just like my dad’s work ethic, which he drilled into me. No slacking, even when it comes to sandwich choices.

Andrew leans forward, his scowl on full display. “These new rules from our esteemed donor, Dr. Stick-up-his-ass Steinberg, are utter bullshit. Nobody before us had to abide by these strict restrictions.”

“Keep it down.” I smile apologetically to the mother in the nearby booth. Her kids’ faces are glued to their mobile devices, not paying us any attention. Still, the last thing we need is an incident after the administration expressed concern over our behavior.

“Drew has a point,” Easton says. “What all did Blake say?”

Andrew’s scowl deepens. “Apparently, we’re not allowed to have any ‘unseemly gatherings’ at our houses anymore. No parties, no girls past ten. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if they start monitoring our shower time.”

Coach told Blake after practice today that we need to be on our best behavior, keeping our heads low and our noses to the grindstone. A big donor is willing to give us a sizable stipend but doesn’t want his pristine image damaged.

Fair enough, but does he know hockey players? Come on.

“There’s no way they can monitor who we have at our house.” I shake my head at this nonsense. We live on jock row in the homes built for athletes. There are four of us assigned to each house. Not having girls over? Get real. Never happening. Especially since we aren’t the only team utilizing campus housing.

Jonas chuckles. “What, is this college or Catholic school?”

“Right?” Andrew throws his hands up. “I swear, it’s like they’re trying to turn us into monks or something. How are we supposed to blow off steam after games?”

“I don’t think it’s that deep,” I say. “Regardless, let’s just keep out of headlines and off the ‘Rumor Has It’ page.”

Everyone grumbles at the mention of the latest addition to the sports section of the campus newspaper—a gossip column. The editor is an asshole for thinking that was a good idea. So far, the only mentions have been about the baseball and football teams. Mel G., the anonymous author, seems to have it out for the baseball team’s captain, Braxton Smith. The poor bastard has been reduced to a speed fucker and heartbreaker.

No one wants to land in that article.

“I say we keep doing as we have and not worry about it,” Jonas says.

“Here you go, boys.” Sarah sets our usual order—turkey club for me, extra fries for Drew—on the table. We thank her and dive in.

The corner of Easton’s mouth lifts to a smirk as he scoops a large spoon of mashed potatoes. “You know what we should do? Start a book club.”

“What the fuck?” Andrew asks. And I have to admit, it’s a rather weird suggestion. I turn to look at him, wondering what he’s getting at.

“Yeah, we can call it ‘Fifty Shades of Ice Hockey.’ Read all those popular smut books going around on social media and post about them. That’ll really impress ole’ Dr. Steinberg.”

“That’s called BookTok,” Jonas says. “It’s already being done.”

“What the fuck are you even talking about?” I ask, bewildered that my teammates mentioned books at all.

“Seriously. It’s a thing.” Easton grabs his phone, but I swat it away before he opens the app.

“We need to lay low, not attract attention.” Despite my seriousness, the table erupts in laughter. I cave and join in, relaxing some. Leave it to him to find humor in even the most frustrating situations.

Jonas takes a long pull of iced tea, still chuckling. “Speaking of our dear benefactor, who exactly is this Dr. Steinberg anyway? I mean, besides being a killjoy with deep pockets.”

I freeze, my sandwich halfway to my mouth. Steinberg’s name echoes in my head, triggering a faint memory I can’t quite grasp.

Easton leans back and taps his chin. “Dr. Alexander Steinberg is some hotshot alum, I guess. Probably made his fortune selling fun-sucking devices or something.”

Another round of laughter erupts, but I’m barely listening. Steinberg. Why does that name sound so familiar?

I rack my brain, trying to place it. Was he mentioned in one of my classes? Or maybe?—

“Yo, Ryan!” Drew’s voice snaps me back to reality. “You planning on eating that sandwich or just staring at it all day?”

I blink. Shit, how long have I been lost in thought? “Sorry, just … thinking about that physics test coming up,” I lie and shove down the nagging feeling about Steinberg’s name. Whatever it is, it can wait. My current focus is on the present, the team, and my school.

I take a big bite of my sandwich and force a grin. “So, what’s the plan for dealing with these new rules? Besides Easton’s brilliant book club idea, of course.”

Andrew leans back in his chair, a smug grin spreading across his face. “Speaking of plans, let’s talk about our absolute domination this season. Three straight wins, and we’re just getting started.”

I roll my eyes, but my chest swells with pride. We have been on fire lately.

Easton snorts, reaching across the table to flick Andrew’s ear. “Easy there, hotshot. Don’t want that big head of yours weighing you down on the ice.”

“Hey!” Drew swats Easton’s hand away, but his grin never falters. “I’m just stating facts. We’re unstoppable this year.”

“Maybe tone it down a notch, Drew. We’ve still got a long way to go,” I chuckle.

“Exactly,” Easton interjects, but his expression turns serious. “And speaking of going places, I heard a little rumor that might interest you guys.”

The shift in his tone catches my attention. I lean forward, my sandwich forgotten. “What kind of rumor?”

Easton waggles his eyebrows. “Word on the street is we might have special guests at our next game. The kind that carries clipboards and makes career-changing decisions.”

My heart skips a beat. Scouts. The word hangs unspoken in the air, electric with possibility.

A collective humming sound ripples across the table. No matter our endgame, everyone dreams of playing professional hockey.

Andrew’s cocky grin falters for a split second before returning full force. “Bring ’em on. I’ll give them a show they won’t forget.”

But he isn’t fooling anyone. His nervous energy betrays him as he fidgets with his napkin.

Swallowing hard, my mind races. Scouts mean a shot at the big leagues—turning my passion into a career, a dream I let slip away.

The pang in my chest tightens. If I don’t pass this next physics test, this sudden turmoil may be for not. I won’t be eligible to play.

I force a smile and hope it doesn’t look as strained as it feels. “That’s awesome news, Easton. About time they noticed us, right?”

Jonas leans back in his chair. “Well, boys, looks like we’ll have to be on our best behavior. No more pre-game rituals involving lucky jockstraps or Easton’s infamous ‘Victory Song.’”

The table erupts in laughter as Easton’s face reddens. “Hey, that song is a work of art!”

“Yeah, if by ‘art’ you mean ‘crime against humanity,’” Andrew quips, dodging Easton’s playful swat.

My shoulders shake with laughter as the guys continue to rib each other. These idiots drive me crazy sometimes, but they’re my team. My family. Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together.

I shift my gaze to the window. The California sun casts a warm hue on the sidewalk. Fall in LA doesn’t mean much change, but there’s a subtle shift in the air. It’s like the whole city’s holding its breath, waiting for something big to happen. The question is, what?

My dad’s face flashes in my mind—the pain etched in his features after the accident, the way his eyes lit up when I told him about PT school. I clench my fist. Yeah, I definitely need to pass that test. Thanks to Maddy, I think I can.

“Sorenson!” Drew’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “You planning on joining us anytime soon, or are you too busy jonesing about your future NHL contract?”

I pull my gaze back to my teammates. “Sorry, man. Still thinking about my physics test.”

Andrew rolls his eyes. “Dude, you’re gonna crush it. You always do.”

I shrug, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, well, can’t slack off now. Gotta keep that GPA up if I want to impress more than just the scouts, you know?”

“Nerd alert!” Easton coughs into his fist, earning him a French fry from Jonas to the face.

I chuckle with them, but inside, my stomach’s doing somersaults. They don’t get it. They can’t. For them, hockey’s the endgame. For me, it’s just part of the puzzle.

My fingers drum against the table. “So, uh, what’s the game plan for practice tomorrow?” I lean forward, eager to steer the conversation back to familiar territory. “Coach mentioned working on our power play. Think we should focus on that?”

Drew nods. “Hell, yeah. Our penalty kill’s solid, but we could use some work on the man advantage.”

“Speaking of advantages,” Easton chimes in, “Anyone else noticed how the puck bunnies have been waiting for us outside practice more often?”

“So much for our image,” Andrew says.

The guys laugh, but I feel a twinge of guilt. My mind flashes to Maddy for a split second before I push the thought away. No distractions. Not now. She made it crystal clear how she felt about me. But damn, was the night something. Her eagerness to learn was hot as hell. And the way she rode my face … I could’ve stayed there forever. My dick twitches at the thought. The last thing I need is half a chub while eating out with the guys.

I clear my throat and try to keep my voice light. “Focus, boys. We’ve got a shot at the playoffs this year. Can’t let anything throw us off our game.”

Jonas raises an eyebrow. “Says the guy who’s been zoning out all night.”

I feel my cheeks heat. “That’s different. I’m just … multitasking.”

“Sure, sure,” Drew teases. “Multitasking between hockey and what? Your secret plans for world domination?”

I force a grin. “You caught me. Step one: ace this test. Step two: lead us to victory. Step three: take over the world.”

Determination surges inside as everyone finishes their meal. I might juggle more than they realize, but I’ll be damned if I let anything slip. Not my grades, not our team’s shot at glory. My mind’s already mapping out a study schedule to be with Maddy, analyzing our last game, and planning the next trip home to care for Dad. It’s a lot, maybe too much for most people. But for me? It’s fuel. Every challenge and obstacle is just another chance to prove myself.

Tomorrow’s another day, another battle. But tonight? I’ve got plays to review, chapters to read, and a team counting on me.

Bring it on.