Chapter 20

20

JACK

With a glance over my shoulder, we retreat to a quiet corner of the room.

“So,” I say, not sure what angle to take because it turns out there was fine print, I just didn’t realize it until I blew her the kiss.

“So,” she repeats as if not sure where to start, which surprises me. I thought she was locked and loaded, ready to fire me as her jersey supplier. Her gaze hops over the party scene unfolding behind me and then she lifts it to meet mine.

I sink in, wanting to take root in her warm brown eyes.

“Are you overwhelmed?” I ask softly.

Pressing her lips together, she nods.

“I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant to happen. You might say my plan worked a little too well.”

“What was your plan? You said all I needed to do was wear your jersey. I thought maybe you needed a warm body to fill in a space on a fan photo or something.”

“Warm body? No. Hot? Yes. But that’s not it at all,” I say, meaning that she’s more than a warm body and she’s very attractive.

“Jack, I asked if there was a catch.”

I don’t want her to feel tricked, but I fear she’s slipping away. Wait. That must mean I want her to stick around. I shift from foot to foot, not prepared to think about that.

“Originally, I just wanted to show the hockey powers-that-be that I’m serious. Not just another playboy. I didn’t calculate the puck bunny social media frenzy.”

She goes pale. “What do you mean?”

I squish my eyes closed, already screwing this up. “We need to get you a phone.”

“From what you just said, maybe I don’t want one.”

“The fans exploded with speculation, photos, and?—”

“And they crowned me the Puck Princess.”

I nod because likely Leah mentioned that. “It spread like wildfire, and now …” I’m afraid to finish the sentence because she might reject me. I’d reject me because what could go wrong with asking her to be my fake girlfriend—aside from everything?

Ella leans in, but before I pop the question, Carlos scurries over with Leah on his heels.

He says, “We have to get you out of here. Now.”

I look around, wondering what the problem is, but Carlos is already backing me toward a doorway. Leah clasps Ella’s arm and follows closely.

We’re in the hall and looping around toward the bank of elevators when I hear a familiar deep voice.

“ El Jefe ,” Carlos says, meaning the boss and referring to the name he gave my father after he learned that I’m Allain Bouchelle’s son and what that entails.

In my head, I feel like I sound like a bratty teenager, but my father isn’t the boss of me .

Carlos and Leah pivot us back the way we came, hoping to avoid my father and his entourage, but my phone beeps in my pocket, giving us away as the voices fall silent. Footsteps approach from one direction and the party sounds spill toward us from the other.

“Son,” my father calls, having spotted me—not hard since I’m so tall.

“Father,” I say.

Carlos slides behind me. I amend what I said earlier, he’ll take shots for me except when fired by my father—that’s between us. Leah joins her brother. I angle myself partially, protectively in front of Ella. Bark Wahlburger parks himself between us and my father.

It’s past Aston’s bedtime, so thankfully, she’s not with him. Then again, she’s probably out partying at a club. She tags me in every single one of her @QueenAston posts. I’d like to have a talk with her parents and find out where they went wrong.

My father says, “You weren’t supposed to lose, but I guess that makes your decision easier.”

I glance at Ella, wondering what exactly I have left to lose.

She looks up at me.

“This is Ella Hibbert. Ella, meet my father, Allain Bouchelle.”

His scowl dampens slightly when she extends her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Is that so? Like what?”

Ella’s smile falters as if she weren’t expecting him to be so specific or so prickly.

“Don’t mind him. The man is like a walking, talking cactus,” I murmur.

Ella smiles and without skipping a beat, she says, “That you treasured your late wife, treated her like a queen. That says a lot about a man’s character and the son he raised. ”

My father and I both straighten as if chastised or chastened, I’m not sure which.

Dad adjusts his tie. “Oh, well, yes. Jewel was a lovely woman. May she rest in peace.” Turning back to me, my father says, “So what’s it going to be? I didn’t raise a quitter, but I think it’s time you join Team Bouchelle.”

“I’ve always been on Team Bouchelle.” But after tonight, the Knights are looking more and more appealing.

“It’s a boys’ game you’re playing,” he says.

“But it’s also work that I take seriously.”

“Oh, so now you’ve decided that playtime is over?”

I yawn so I don’t get caught rolling my eyes at my father’s blustering.

Ella notices but wears a friendly smile. “There’s quite a spread inside the party room if anyone is hungry, refreshments too, and a beautiful vista of the city.”

Never mind working as a housekeeper, she should be the hospitality lead at Jewel Island.

Having caught a scent, my father isn’t deterred by her hospitality. “Jack, you’re finally going to get your head in the game? You’ve never won the Cup. You think if you start fresh with another team, you stand a chance?”

Ella adds, “Having been with the Storm so long, Jack has brought so many guys up with him, in a ‘rising tide lifts all boats’ kind of way. He pushed them to compete at a higher level, so perhaps playing with another team will align him with a set of players who’ve moved beyond his present team’s skill set, and together they’ll get the Stanley.”

Everyone is quiet for a long moment. Apparently, she absorbed more hockey in the last few hours than most people do in years of being fans.

My father grunts as if he just hit a speed bump. “Jack, be careful who you align yourself with. Badaszek is a chess master moving players into positions on the board. I’d hate to see him take advantage of you.”

Ella glances at me. “Jack could also retire. Having scored three goals in the game—the only goals for the team—is a strong goodbye. Either way, I trust he’ll make a good decision.”

“Who asked you?” my father says.

Ella shrinks slightly.

I lengthen my spine. “Actually, I did and I appreciate Ella’s insight. Ultimately, the decision is mine. If I remember correctly, I didn’t ask you to come here tonight and give me your opinion either.”

“I’ve said my piece, but I’d hate to see you lose a fortune by making a bad call. There’s a lot at stake.” My father looks at the dog as if only just noticing him, snorts, and storms off.

“Why do you care?” I holler down the hall.

He gets a hitch in his step but doesn’t break stride. Now would be the time for him to say, Because I have your best interest in mind, or something wise along the lines of how a person can be so close to a situation that it’s hard to see clearly. But I don’t get so much as a response.

Ella squeezes my arm. Carlos exhales as if he’d been holding his breath the whole time.

Leah sticks her tongue out behind my father’s back. “Sorry. That’s on your behalf,” she says.

“No worries. I stick my tongue out at him in my head all the time.”

She and her brother laugh nervously.

“And roll your eyes,” Ella says.

I knew she’d noticed.

After that uncomfortable encounter, we head outside and say goodnight to the Smith siblings. Ella stands on the sidewalk like she’s not sure how she’s going to get home.

I point to the black SUV waiting. “Our ride. ”

Bark Wahlburger hops inside and settles in the passenger seat.

“Does one of those follow you around, waiting to know where you want to go and when?”

“Something like that. I have an app. One of the perks of being a Bouchelle.”

“Even after you and your father exchanged words?”

“That was nothing, but keeping the money faucet running is how he controls me.” Sad, but true. Mostly. He could cut the line and I’d be fine, but I want to have a good relationship with my dad. He’s all I have left.

Ella asks, “Where are we going?”

“To have some popcorn.” I hold open the door for Ella and she slides across the seat.

We drive in silence for a few moments before I say, “Thank you for that back there.”

“He’s a real bear, huh?”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“I can see there’s a soft teddy inside, though. He cares about you.”

“Has a funny way of showing it.”

“Yeah, but when he’s not around anymore, you’ll even miss the flaws,” she says softly.

I nod an exhale. “You’re right about that. One hundred percent. My mother could be wicked when she wanted to be, passive-aggressive and diabolical, but she had many redeeming qualities, especially if you told her she looked pretty in the morning.”

Ella chuckles.

Up until now, all I was focused on was my career and the adjacent benefits—nice stuff, good times, and puck bunnies. While playing hockey still matters, I want something meaningful outside of it that isn’t about earning more money or spending my father’s.

I lace my fingers through Ella’s. “Thanks again for wearing my jersey and playing along. What you said to my father was epic.”

“It was all true.”

We drive in silence and I realize, possibly for the first time in my life, that I can’t have a relationship with nice stuff, good times, or puck bunnies. When I die, my friends and loved ones won’t remember me if my focus was on anything other than them.

When we reach my penthouse condo in the heart of the downtown area, just ten minutes from the arena, Ella is quiet on the elevator to the top floor.

Bark Wahlburger dashes inside, laps up some water from a chest height pedestal style bowl, and then flops onto the floor as if he just played a pro hockey game. Some life, buddy.

“Hungry? Thirsty?” I ask, taking off my shoes.

“Are you going to call room service?”

I frown. “This is my house.”

She looks around at the open concept space with a sectional leather sofa, big screen television, and sleek décor. “Someone lives here?”

“Yes, I do,” I answer, not sure where she’s going with this.

“Where’s your stuff?”

Funny, considering I was just thinking about things . I point. “There and there and there.”

“No, I mean your stuff. Those are generic things like in the rooms at the resort.”

“I had a professional decorator come in.”

“But where’s your stuff?” she repeats.

“Do you want to go through my drawers? You can. I’m not hiding anything other than my snack stash. ”

Ella blushes. “No, I mean like photos and doodads, things, stuff, junk.”

I shrug, realizing that my condo does resemble a suite at the resort. “Never thought of it.” I open a drawer, wave her over, and pass her a rectangular box. “I have something for you.”

She hesitantly takes it like it might detonate and slowly lifts the lid. “A phone? Did you just have an extra one lying around?”

I smirk. “No. I asked Carlos to pick it up during the game.” He taps it a few times. “New password: ten-ten, for my jersey. Also, I just programmed in my number, but I’m hoping that won’t be necessary.”

“What do you mean?”

“I decided to join the Nebraska Knights.”

She drops back slightly and nods. “Congrats. That’s great. Good for you.” She tips her head toward the hall and asks, “Bathroom?”

My stomach sinks and I can’t help but feel like I did something wrong. Is she anti-technology? It’s the latest phone model. Maybe I said the wrong thing, but what?