Chapter 32

32

JACK

The rest of the week passes with practice, training, and game prep. Plus, long runs or walks with Bark Wahlburger and Ella.

Tonight, we’re facing off against the LA Lions. Thanks to Leah, Ella has already met some of the women associated with the team.

She’s all smiles when I spot her in the VIP area when we take to the ice on game day. Likely, there are a few other people in this arena wearing my jersey and while I appreciate the fans, none of it measures up to seeing Ella with my name and player number across her back. Not to get all cheesy, but it makes my heart want to take flight—or fight harder for the puck to make her proud. Glad I got to keep the ten spot.

To my surprise, Aston is here, too, but I don’t see my father. I hear my name announced amidst cheers, but I don’t get too puffed up. Today, I have to prove myself to the team and Badaszek. Ella, too above all.

My ego took the hit when we lost the first—and only— game of mine she watched. But this one is going to be better. I can feel it.

The LA Lion’s best player just came off an injury and instead of taking it easy, Miller goes all in, heating up the ice from the second the puck crosses the crease. It’s a race against the clock as they score in the bottom of the first period.

During a break, Micah nudges his chin in my direction and says, “Dude, you’re exceptional. A better center than I ever was, but the guys are used to my center play style.” He gives me a few tips. “You do you, but keep that in mind and anticipate their reactions and reverse engineer your position and passes if need be.”

Just months ago, when I played for the Storm, if a teammate said something like this to me, I would’ve whacked him with my stick. But I take Micah’s advice and meet the guys in the middle. I can’t very well transform the way I play and match Micah’s in a single game, but until they get used to me and we practice more together, I adjust my moves, which means more assists and two goals.

The third-period score has us leading by a point. But it’s not time to slack. Despite being relatively quiet, Hammer doesn’t miss a trick and blocks three shots. Hayden Savage gets in the corner with two Lions on him but does a nifty little move, sending the puck sailing my way. Our defense runs cover for me as I glide toward the goal, dodging sticks and skates. Finding an opening, I shoot and can hardly look until I hear the roar of the crowd, telling me I succeeded, slotting the puck past the netminder. Relieved, I blow Ella a kiss because it turns out that everything I do, I do for her.

A woman like Ella Hibbert wouldn’t have liked the hotheaded, selfish, showboating center I was on the Storm. But this guy is going to leave an epic legacy .

After the final buzzer, our theme song comes on, and we do a victory lap and line up with the visiting team.

When I get to the warm room, still in full gear, I’m of a single mind. There’s only one thing that could make this win better. Pressing my lips to Ella’s.

She’s talking with Leah and a couple of other women I recognize as being either wives or girlfriends of some of the other Knights. She’s smiling and at ease, not on guard like at the Storm game, where she got dubbed the Puck Princess, but she does sneeze.

A woman in a slinky dress and heels intercepts me while I make my way to Ella. My groan is masked by people cheering as they pass.

Aston says, “Congrats from your dad and me. He couldn’t make it. But I wouldn’t miss this.” She cackles.

I offer a tight-lipped smile.

She wears a clipped expression that I can’t quite read. “The post-game party is at Club Luna. Make sure you’re there.”

Coach calls us for the debrief. I can’t catch Ella’s eye before I return to the locker room to review everything that worked well during the game. After the highlights, Badaszek pinpoints the weak spots, including improving gap control and how our defensemen have to call the proper play in the go zone faster.

Vohn Brandt, the assistant coach, adds, “Guys, you know this, but speed is one of our secret weapons. We have Bouchelle, who holds one of the top NHL records, but that’s not going to help us if we’re not passing properly. Look for openings and not just ahead of the goal. You know the layout of the ice. You’ll get it there, but you have to visualize how and anticipate the opponents’ every move before it happens.”

“Basically, you’re asking us to be psychic,” Ted asks with a laugh .

Vohn, nearly as stoic and serious as the goalie, Beau Hammer, simply nods.

We talk for a few more minutes, and I can’t help but contrast my new teammates to the Storm. I’ve been behind closed doors, but it’s never been like this. Everyone is relaxed and it’s not just because they’re ahead in the season. Several years ago, we were undefeated, and the tension in the room could’ve been sliced with a skate’s blade.

I’m not psychic, none of us are, but I can see how everyone in this organization respects each other, works together, and has one goal—the same as everyone else in the league. Get the Cup. But they’re different because the moves they make to get there are chess game-level strategic, organized, and thoughtful. These guys are professionals and I firmly believe that I made the right decision and am thankful I didn’t walk away from my career.

I’m just out of the shower and notice five missed calls from my father. I tell myself that Ella is in good hands with Leah. Plus, the rest of the women associated with the team seem genuinely friendly. Coach made it clear that puck bunny drama is not tolerated. Badaszek said, and I quote, They can take their little cotton tails and bark up another tree.

I’ve never seen a bunny bark or go up a tree, but I’m not going to argue with the guy.

Just before my phone stops ringing again, I pick up. “Are you calling to congratulate me on sweeping the win?” I ask even though I already know the answer.

“No. There’s a fine line and you’re skating all over it.”

“Are you referring to the ring on Ella’s finger?” Carlos shared the photos of our engagement and the official announcement with various media outlets, friends, and family.

My father says, “You’re making a big mistake. Lucia is still single.”

“Last I checked, this is my life. ”

He counters, “Last I checked, it’s my money.”

“You can keep your money and marriage of convenience deals and ultimatums.”

“I’m urging you to do the right thing, Jack.”

“No, you do the right thing.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Love me like a son. Honor your deceased wife. Stop messing around.”

“You’re the one who needs to grow up.”

I scoff. “That’s rich coming from a man married to a woman young enough to be my sister.”

“You don’t know what you’re getting into with that maid ,” my father says like it’s a dirty word.

“I don’t?” I practically shout, pacing in the hallway. “Do enlighten me because I’m pretty sure I know more about Ella than you.” Spending time with her has shown me that life isn’t only about hockey and parties and wealth. Going to get coffee, taking a walk, or eating popcorn and doing simple things together makes life rich.

“That’s not going to make you money.”

“Are you listening to anything I’m saying?” I’m about to hang up when I realize that in the same way my father treats me like a business associate, I’ve treated people, especially the women in my life like that, too. For goodness’ sake, I paid Ella to wear my jersey. Am I so used to paying for everything I thought I could buy love? Was I too afraid to ask her to wear it in case she rejected me? I want to change. For her. But is that enough?

Recalling Mom in her last moments, I decide to extend an olive branch. “Dad, I’d like you to understand that I love Ella. We’re engaged and are getting married. I hope you can come to accept that and be happy for us.”

He groans and the line is quiet until he says. “Don’t do anything rash or stupid. I’ll have the lawyers send you the prenup. It needs to be ironclad.” This means he doesn’t want us to elope.

Looking warily around, I make sure Aston isn’t going to thwart me again and say, “I don’t think it’s Ella you need to worry about.” Then I hang up.

I find her sitting on a bench, looking tired. Her eyes are red and she sniffles.

“Are you upset?” Did she overhear that conversation?

“Just tired.” Her voice is scratchy, likely from cheering so loud. Her eyes are glassy and her nose is pink, too.

“I’m not feeling well. I think all of this mainland living is catching up with me. I should probably go back to the hotel and rest. You can go ahead to the gathering without me. I probably shouldn’t eat cake. I’m just going to go to sleep.”

I’m torn because I want to stay with Ella, but it would be rude not to make an appearance at my first team celebration, especially after the big win. I drive Ella to the hotel, get her settled in, and torn, head back out to Club Luna, where Aston said the party is.

The bass-heavy beats practically shake the sidewalk as I approach the non-descript building with a small neon sign in the shape of a crescent moon.

Inside, the lighting is dim and bodies crunch together, dancing. I try to find the VIP area but am lost in a maze of staircases leading to various levels and lofts. When I reach an upper area with a view over the dance floor, I pull out my phone to text the group chat thread our captain added me to.

Me: Where’s the cake?

A response doesn’t come and my nose only catches whiffs of cologne and perfume. Given the ban on puck bunnies, this strikes me as the opposite kind of place to host the party. Considering I’m late, maybe the rest of the guys are gone. I turn around and two women in skimpy dresses strut my way.

My stomach lurches and my instincts tell me to duck for cover. I’m about to find a supply closet or somewhere to hide, but the floor is sticky and I’m not in skates.

They close in on me and it’s too late to slip away.