Chapter 38

38

JACK

Bark Wahlburger barks as I open the door to find Carlos bracing himself and breathing heavily. “I did the digging you asked me to do.”

“I saw the video. I was just about to show Ella.”

“No, the other digging.”

“Slater?”

“No, the other one.”

I rack my brain.

He tips his head toward my father.

My stomach lurches, bracing for what I’m about to hear. “What did you find?”

“You were right. Remy loves the smell of money. There’s another video.” He passes me his phone and I watch my former coach confess to being bribed by my father to get me to retire. I listen, waiting for an explanation, but instead, Remy says that he knew Badaszek had been interested in trading me for a long time and was waiting out my contract. He put out the word because, and I quote, I still had a few good goals to make .

The fire in my veins turns to iron as I glare at my father.“What is the meaning of this?”

“This is boring. I’m going shopping,” Aston says, leaving.

My father, rarely one to look even slightly bashful, says, “I knew about the impending sale of the Storm to a new owner. Would’ve lost a lot of money if you’d stayed on the team.”

This confirms that my father wasn’t satisfied with the regular financial markets and went dark to the shadow markets based on sports betting. “So you pushed for me to quit?” I shake my head, not wanting to believe it.

“It’s time you get serious with your life and stop playing games.”

Carlos winces and then also sneaks out the door. I’ll thank him profusely later and buy his parents whichever house is Ella’s runner-up. If I still have Ella.

I say, “I’ll tell you what’s serious, that you deceived me. That you’d think you know what’s best for my career or love life or future.”

“I don’t want you to throw it away.” My father’s mouth puckers.

“It’s more like you don’t want me to make you look bad or throw away your money. I’d flush it all down the drain if you’d—” But I can’t say it without my voice breaking. Now I feel cheap, used.

He starts, “Son, listen, you don’t understand.”

Squaring my shoulders, I’m not sure where the words come from, but instead of shouting at him, as I’d like to, I say, “You have a plane to catch. I recommend you use that time to think about what Mom would say or do right now …” I close my eyes, forcing back the emotion. “She’d be disappointed.”

Without so much as putting up a fight or saying another word, he exits, leaving just Ella and me along with the dog and what feels like an endless sheet of ice between us .

“Ella, I am sorry?—”

“Save it?—”

I flinch because even though I want my father to apologize to me, I want her to accept my apology more than anything. “Are you upset?”

“Of course I am. This has all happened so fast. It’s confusing and I don’t know what to think.”

“Did you like the car? Any of the houses?” I ask, wanting to rewind to all the good things that happened before this family showdown. But I can’t just throw money at this to fix it.

“Are you flexing on me again?” she asks.

“No, that’s not what I meant?—”

“I know, I know, you’re so rich. Filthy rich. Hearing what your father and Aston did makes me feel dirty. It’s all just money, power, money. For once, I’m glad I don’t have any. Happy not to be rich.”

But I was ready to give her everything. All of it, including my heart. But maybe that’s not good enough. Anger and a sense of helplessness turn my words ugly. “Do you think that you’re better than me because you’re not rich?”

She winces. “That’s not what I meant. I think we both need some time.” She lets out a long exhale.

“What are you saying?”

I recall her comment early on about the value of time. I want to spend all of mine with her, but perhaps she’s too good for me. There are only so many blemishes money can hide. My family is a mess. My career could be over at the click of a button, with no thanks to Aston.

But I remember that I’m not a quitter. “Ella, I want to be clear. To me, this isn’t about money, hockey, or anyone else. It’s certainly not about my father and Aston.”

“Then what is it about?”

“It’s about us. ”

She shakes her head slowly and the motion shatters my heart. Pieces splinter off.

She glances at Bark Wahlburger and then looks up at me. “Don’t even try those puppy dog eyes. I should go.”

“No,” I say loudly, startling her and causing the dog to bark. “I mean, no, you stay here. I’ll leave. Just give me a second.”

I duck into the other room, leaving her a note and something of mine. Then, without a backward glance, because I’m afraid I’ll lose my resolve to give her time to process, I exit the suite.

Once downstairs, I have no idea where I’m going until the Raptor pulls up at the arena. A few guys are in the weight room and someone in the hall laughs loudly. I need silence except for the slicing of my skates on the ice and my breath in my ears. I’m afraid if I don’t move, I’ll no longer feel my pulse.

I warm up with some laps then get a puck and do a few drills. One by one, my thoughts float away like clouds. I need a break from analyzing and trying to guess how things with Ella are going to work out.

I’m hardly paying attention to my surroundings until someone intercepts the puck. He wears a helmet and I can’t see the back of his jersey. If this were the Storm, I’d tell whoever it is to get lost. I’m angry playing, but the puck zooms in my direction with a dominant thrust that makes me wonder who’d put that much pepper on it.

I reposition and send it back. Whatever player it is challenges me with his accuracy and speed, but it silences my mind because forget about me being the secret weapon. This player has got to be ranking MVP. Strange because I don’t recognize his style. Having played against the Knights and now with them, I’ve skated with most of the guys.

He keeps the puck tight and barrels toward me like he’s playing chicken before dodging to my left and then slapping the puck into the goal.

He wheels around and takes off his helmet, beaming a smile. It’s Coach Badaszek. “I knew I made a good decision. Nice edge work.” He taps his temple. “Your rebound block could use a little sharpening. Also, always remember that your opponent has a blind spot if their back is to you. If you’re up against the boards, be stealthy.” He claps me on the shoulder. “You’re still young and have room to grow.”

I chuckle. “Lately, I’ve been told that I’m old.”

He laughs this time. “There are some formidable young players. They’re fresh and hungry but can be careless, especially in their personal lives. After you’ve been on the ice for a while, it becomes a part of you and you realize what truly gives life meaning. That’s a gift only time can give as long as you don’t lose track of why you’re playing the game.”

I think of Ella trying on my watch in the pool the night we officially met.

Badaszek’s gaze flits to mine. “Why do you come out here season after season?”

I slide to a halt. “Had you asked me that years ago, it was because I had something to prove.” Using Ella’s one thing question, hockey was always mine—not my father’s. But it’s changed. I finish my thought, “Now, it’s because I love it.” And I love Ella.

He nods as if he understands.

“Sir, thank you for this chance.”

“I’ve had my eye on you for a long time. Glad you finally came to your senses.”

“Remy only just mentioned that you were willing to trade for me.”

“As I said, you came to your senses.” Badaszek skates toward the boards and exits .

I noodle around for a few more minutes before hitting the locker room, where at least half the team is in various stages of post-practice grooming.

Hudson and Liam debate whether the new pads are better than the old ones.

“Tie breaker, Bouchelle?” Hudson asks.

I sit down on the bench to remove my skates. “Who’s going to be more sore tomorrow?”

Liam raps me on the arm. “Good answer.”

“We’re going to grab some grub at the Fish Bowl. You in?”

I am hungry, but that gives me an idea. “Raincheck?”

“Oooh. Yeah. Every day we’re not playing at noon and six,” Hudson says.

“Don’t tell Nat,” Grady says, referring to the team nutritionist and the healthy meals we’re all supposed to consume. The Fish Bowl serves off-plan dishes with all the fried potato and corn products. Splaying his fingers, he starts to list them off.

We all laugh.

“So you guys don’t hit the club after games, huh?”

Hudson snorts. “No, Coach demands too much of us. That gets old fast.”

“I’d like to see him get on the ice at oh-seven hundred hours after a red eye.”

“He should get out there more often,” Liam adds. “I’ve only heard stories of him passing the puck. Legendary stories, but still, it’s a rare sight to see Badaszek in skates.”

I thumb over my shoulder, about to tell him we just scrimmaged together but stay on track. “So, no wild parties?” I ask just to be sure.

“If that’s what you’re looking for, you’re on the wrong team,” Hudson says.

I wave my hands. “No, no. I’m relieved, actually. ”

“The rowdiest we get is board game night.”

“Barbecues.”

“Movies on the projector screen.”

“We do volunteer work in the community.”

“Oh, but we do play darts at the Fish Bowl from time to time.”

“Yeah, this guy is lethal. Wear eye protection,” Hayden jokes.

Pierre chuckles. “There’s also the ugly Christmas sweater.”

“Pranks,” Ted adds.

“Popcorn.” Liam chuckles as if that has a secondary meaning.

A warm feeling spreads through me. Yeah. I’m definitely on the right team. I’m sure from time to time, the locker room banter gets PG-13 plus, but these guys are here for the brotherhood and the love of the game. Me too.

After a shower, I check my messages, including a vindicating video from none other than Carlos Smith. The dude should get a promotion, but he’s already top dog. I send him a quick message and thank him for saving my hockey butt … again. Then I make a fast food stop on my way back to the hotel in Omaha.

I leave the truck with the valet and nearly bump into someone as they hurriedly exit on a gush of cocoa butter-scented air.

Ella opens and closes her mouth as if not sure what to say. Her eyes are wide yet filled with something that I can’t name. The ticking of my pulse shoots off the meter. It’s like we’re seeing each other for the first time.

“Hi,” I say.

“Hi,” she repeats.

“Are you going?” I ask, fearing the answer.

But she doesn’t have anywhere to go, which makes my heart ache. I don’t want her to stick around because she feels indebted to me or because she’s out of options.

She glances at the paper bag in my hand and the cardboard tray containing two milkshakes, then down at her hands. “I was going to get a cheeseburger.”

“I brought you one and fries and a milkshake even though it’s cold out.”

“Thank you, but?—”

“But please, let’s talk. If you hear what I have to say and are still upset, I’ll understand.” I give the bag a shake. “At least, we’ll end how we began.” There’s no disguising the strain in my voice.

Ella follows me back upstairs to the suite. Bark Wahlburger runs in circles as if happy to see that Mom and Dad are together again. Or he smells beef on the dinner menu.

I set our food on the dinette table, but she eyes the low coffee table. If she were so angry that she wouldn’t forgive me, she’d already be gone. There’d be no possibility of having a picnic like we did in the resort. I toss some of the pillows from the couch onto the floor and move our meal to the low table, recalling that she told me that her dad said you only lose if you quit. I’m still in, one hundred percent while hoping and praying for the best.