Chapter 7

Jensen

I didn’t log in to Realm Crusaders for several days, which wasn’t like me at all, but when Leif asked about it, I used Mom’s visit as my excuse. We’d been having a good time, going down to Hollywood Boulevard one day and then strolling around the Third Street Promenade on another. Mom was easygoing and energetic but not demanding. She understood that I still had practices and games, things to do beyond entertaining her.

Of course, our parents had always been our biggest fans, so she understood what my life was like professionally. My brothers and I all played on different teams in the league and in college, yet our parents managed to root for all of us, no matter what. Even when we played against each other. It was nice to have that kind of support.

A lot of guys I’d played with over the years didn’t have it, so I would never take it for granted, even when my mom showed up unexpectedly and took over my house, my routine, and everything else.

“What time do we leave for the arena?” Mom asked on a Friday morning.

“I need to leave around two, but I’ve got a car service coming to get you at four and we’ll come home together.”

“Okay.” She nodded but then hesitated, as if she had something she wanted to say.

“What?” I asked.

“Don’t you go out with the guys after the game?”

This time I hesitated.

There wasn’t much to celebrate these days, and the chemistry in the locker room was severely lacking. Some of the guys were cool, but we didn’t spend much time together off the ice, not like guys on other teams. This was only my second team since joining the league, and I’d only been on the other team two years, but there was a distinct difference in the climate here.

“Not often,” I said finally. “We’re usually too discouraged to want to party, and frankly, a lot of the guys are… well, all I can say is, guys spend a lot of time talking to their agents about where they can go.”

Mom grimaced. “That’s not good.”

“No. So it feels like everyone has a foot out the door. There’s a new guy, Ivan Rochenko, who’s pretty cool. We hang out on the road, but he has a girlfriend, and I’m single, so he usually goes home after the games.”

She nodded. “Well, maybe you and I can go out tonight for a post-game drink.”

I chuckled. “Sure. Sounds good.” I leaned over and pressed a kiss on her cheek. “Thanks, Ma.”

“For what?”

“For being you. For cooking all my favorite food. Just for being here.”

“You’re welcome. Though you’ll probably be less happy about my presence when I ask you if you’ve talked to Empress yet.”

“Hockey, Ma. Gotta focus on hockey.” I walked away, pretending I had something to do, but I’d been avoiding Empress all week. It had been five days since I’d seen her at the restaurant, and I hadn’t messaged her at all.

Since I didn’t know for sure whether or not that had been her, the only way to find out would be to talk to her, and so far, I hadn’t been able to bring myself to do it because part of me wanted to keep the fantasy alive. If it turned out I’d been wrong, I didn’t want to ruin it.

I had a game tonight and we were heading to Vegas for a game tomorrow. Then I’d be home for another week before leaving on a road trip. I’d be in Oakland, Portland, Seattle, Vancouver, and Anchorage, over a ten-day period, and my mother would be joining me for the first two cities since we’d be able to visit with my brother Kingston in Oakland and my brother Jakob in Portland. She was flying on her own, so she would be able to stay in Portland for a few days to hang out with Jake, his new girlfriend, and his twin boys—whom she adored—before meeting me back in L.A.

She’d never done anything like this before, being away from my dad for so long, but Diane’s death had hit her hard and we all knew it. Honestly, as long as she wasn’t actively trying to find me a girlfriend, I enjoyed having her around. For a few weeks anyway. I’d never turn down home-cooked meals and someone to talk to over coffee in the morning.

I enjoyed my independence, but I’d grown up in a big, loud, busy family, so I wasn’t used to so much solitude. I kept busy most of the time. I dated a little, and hockey and gaming ate up the rest of the time, but I hadn’t been gaming this week. At all. That usually only happened if I was traveling, so I was feeling off-kilter and finally logged on just to see what was up.

There was a message from Jordan, asking where the hell I’d been. His team, the Lauderdale Knights, were on a winning streak and he’d taken the opportunity to give me a little ribbing about it, but that was par for the course with us. Then there was one from Manny asking if I’d heard anything about the Infinity Sword contest, and… five from Empress.

@Empress: Hey, you signing in tonight?

@Empress: We missed you last night.

@Empress: Where have you been? I don’t have anyone to talk to, dammit.

@Empress: Everything okay with you? I’m getting worried. Thunderbolt said your mom was in town visiting, but it’s not like you to go radio silent.

@Empress: Just wanted to say hi. I’ve missed talking to you.

Yeah, I missed talking to her too.

Especially now that I had a face to go with the gamer handle. Or at least, I thought I did.

@Phantom: Hey, sorry. I’ve missed you too. Been playing tour guide to my mom and I’ll be on the road for almost two weeks. If you want to hit me up on Discord, I’m @PhantomKnight over there too. It’s easier because I can access it on my phone instead of my laptop. Talk soon.

I logged out since the program indicated she wasn’t currently online and turned my thoughts to hockey.

How cool would it be if we could win one at home for the fans and my mom?

I couldn’t help but wonder if Empress watched hockey.

Was she a Phantoms fan?

I really wished there was a way to know.

The game was brutal, with me sliding in the winning goal in overtime.

That goal had been for Empress, and I couldn’t help but hope she’d been watching. I’d told her I was a romantic, and apparently it was true, because I thought about her all the damn time now.

It was only my fourth goal all season, and while scoring wasn’t my forte, I’d been a much more offensive defenseman in college. My coaches since coming to the pros had been focused on my size and my ability to intimidate guys on the other teams, but I missed having the opportunity to score. Hell, Coach Fenton practically forbade me to touch the puck unless I was stealing it to pass to a forward.

He had a weird system in place, one I didn’t fully understand even though I’d been living and breathing hockey since I was five years old.

The truth was, I thought he was an asshole.

I tried my best not to let it show and be professional. The team paid me a fuck-ton of money to play here and expected results. It wasn’t my fault we were losing, and it wasn’t necessarily Coach’s fault either, but something was wrong somewhere. Unless and until someone took responsibility and made some changes, we were going to continue on this path.

Which really sucked.

Tonight, at least, we had a reprieve, and it was nice to be interviewed by the sportscasters and be named the first star of the game by them, while having my mom in attendance. And still wondering whether or not Empress was watching, either in person or on TV, as I did a quick lap to salute the fans and toss a puck at one of the kids behind the glass.

“Mama Bang!” Another D-man named Evan Laurenz came over to us after the game and gave her a hug, following by some complicated handshake/fist bump thing I’d never seen her do before.

What the hell?

My mother was full of surprises.

“Evan.” Mom beamed at him. “You’re looking good. How’s Daphne?”

Who the hell was Daphne?

Evan made a face. “It’s over. She dumped me.”

“She dumped you?” Mom looked horrified. “What’s wrong with her?” She paused. “Wait—what did you do? Please don’t tell me you cheated… Did you cheat, Evan Michael?”

Dear lord, she was using his middle name.

“Noooo…” He drew out the word. “I didn’t!” he added hurriedly when Mom knitted her brows together. “But I told her I wanted to see other people. She wasn’t down.”

Mom sighed.

That same sigh she’d used with us kids when we were growing up and we did something to disappoint her.

“Well, I suppose it’s preferable that you told her what you wanted before cheating.”

“Cheating is part of this life.” One of the team owners, Tim Barrowman, came strolling up behind us, a smarmy smile on his face. “Women who get involved with pro athletes need to get used to it.”

This guy really was a douche.

Too bad I couldn’t say that.

“I’m Stella Bang.” Mom extended her hand to Tim, and I figured she was trying to change the subject before someone said something we’d regret. “Jensen’s mother.”

He looked down at her hand as if it were dirty or something and then reluctantly shook it. “Tim Barrowman. I own the team.”

“Ah, yes. You’ve taken over since your father fell ill. He was a good man.”

The previous owner of the team, Edward Barrowman, had recently passed away.

“He was.” Tim’s face was a little tight.

Rumor had it father and son didn’t get along, so Mr. Barrowman had left the team to his widow. Tim and his brother Eddie were fighting the will, and there were a lot of rumors going around about that.

“Tonight’s win was good for morale,” Mom said, gazing up at Tim with a look meant to appear guileless, but I knew better. My mother was shrewd as fuck, and the look in her eyes told me she was on to him. In whatever way might be pertinent.

“Morale is fine,” Tim said. “We’re having some growing pains, but I think it’s going to turn around for us. If not this season, definitely next year.”

Not with him at the helm, but what did I know?

“It occurred to me that you have a Dads’ trip but not a Moms’ trip,” Mom said. “It might be fun if you added that to the schedule.”

Tim chuckled, a condescending look on his face that made me want to punch him.

But my mother could take care of herself.

“I don’t think the guys on the team want to spend time with their moms,” Tim said.

“Maybe you should ask them,” Mom retorted.

“I love hanging out with Mama Bang!” Evan said.

“The moms bring food ,” another defenseman named Mason Harrington said. “I’d be down for a moms’ trip.”

There were some other comments about a moms’ trip, but Tim didn’t stick around long enough to listen, heading off after one of the reporters who’d been lurking.

“Well, isn’t he a peach,” Mom murmured.

“Shhh,” I said under my breath. “He’s my boss.”

“He’s a douche,” she replied.

I chuckled. “Are you ready to go?”

“Sure. Are we going home or out for a drink?”

“Let’s get a drink!” Evan said, interrupting us. “I want to say I got shitfaced with Mama Bang.”

Part of me was offended at the way he said it, but my last name had been Bang all my life, so I was used to crude remarks and off-color jokes. Mom had had the name for even longer and she was either oblivious to or unaffected by the comment.

“I don’t know about shitfaced, but I could have a glass of wine or three.” Mom grinned at him.

“Yes!” He high fived her and I couldn’t help but wonder when my mother had gotten so friendly with my teammates, or at least, with Evan. Of course, she had a way with people, and after being a teacher for thirty years, she was good with kids. Even when they were adults.

“Let’s go to Bentley’s,” I suggested, referring to an Irish pub not too far from the arena.

“See you there!” A few guys waved as they headed out.

“You had a good night,” Mom said as we walked toward the players’ parking lot.

“I did,” I agreed.

“So you should have a couple of drinks—I won’t drink so I can drive—and then go home and message Empress.”