Chapter Six

Squinting to avoid the late morning sun in my eyes, I head inside the rink for practice. Coach Pratt’s email is still on my mind. Evidently, we will be finding out the identity of the new team mascot, which has me worried I might get my rear end chewed out for stalking her last night. What a moronic move. I’m a bloody fool.

“Top o’ the mornin’,” Bridger yells from across the parking lot. I wave him off and head up the stairs to the main entry, too knackered to joke with him. It’s going to be a long day. I feel it in my bones.

“Mornin’ Baros,” I say, yanking the door open.

Inside, the hallway is filled with our teammates all drudging in for an early practice. We’re all exhausted, but we’re so close to winning the cup we can’t take time for long breaks. Once this is over, I’m going to sleep for a month.

“Everyone to the meeting room,” Archer says.

We turn tail, not too upset about missing drills, but my curiosity is piqued. Not to mention my nerves. The meeting room fills with the whole roster, all half asleep or sipping coffee. I think sometimes I’m getting too old for this, but I’m not sure what else I’d do with my life. Hockey is all I have, so I suppose I’ll play until I get kicked off the team. Evander sits beside me, offering a glance in my direction. His eyes say everything. He’s worried this is about my impromptu stalking incident as well. It’s a crying shame I’m such an eejit. I’ll probably get us all in trouble. At the very least, I’ll get benched for a game.

Coach Pratt enters and shuts the door behind him, sealing us all inside for whatever mess is about to hit the fan. Still, going by his expression, it might not be so bad.

He sighs and drops his clipboard on the table. “Far be it from me to decide how to run this business. I’d rather be down on the ice running drills this close to the cup. However, it seems we have to meet about appropriate behavior.”

Oh, no.

“He refused to say who, but one of you didn’t follow the rules about leaving the new team mascot alone. That said, she doesn’t want to cause trouble so she has decided to reveal her identity to the team and key staff. What that means for you is that you get to sign these lovely non-disclosure agreements. You reveal her identity, you get fined.” He hands out the paperwork as if we have some choice in the matter.

Evander sighs beside me and pulls a pen from his gear bag. After angrily signing his name, he passes it back to Coach Pratt with a grumbled, “I just want to play hockey.”

Pratt raises an eyebrow. After the social media debacle with his wife, it’s understandable why he wouldn’t want any part of additional drama. Greer lost her career over ridiculous stunts just like this.

“I understand, son. With any luck, this won’t interfere with our games any more than it already has. Everyone sign?” A barrage of paperwork slides across the long meeting table. “Hey, it isn’t my fault,” Coach says, chuckling. He takes in the lot of grumpy, tired players and has mercy on us. “All right. Take the day off but be ready to hit the ice hard tomorrow. I’m not kidding. All day practice including drills.”

It’s hard to say which is better—two days of regular practice or a day off with the promise of torture the next day—but everyone bolts from the meeting room so fast Coach’s head spins. Even Evan leaves me behind, ready to spend the day with Greer. I’m left with Coach, who shuts the door before I can escape.

“I know it was you, Doyle. It’s just the kind of thing you’d do. You trying to get kicked off the team?”

I run a hand over my face, scruffy beard and all. “No, sir. I wasn’t really thinking last night. I surely didn’t mean to scare the lass. I’ll offer a formal apology once she’s available.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear that. I can’t have one of my best players on the bench right now. You know you’re still one of my stars, right?” He says this like he read my mind, like he knows I’ve been thinking about what comes after hockey. When I don’t respond right away he frowns. “Aiden, I know there comes a time in every player’s career when he’s seen a lot of stuff, maybe isn’t sure he fits in it anymore. You’ve still got it, son, but I want you to know that even when you don’t, you’ve still got a place here with the Dragons. Mr. Gregory and I have been talking, and we think you’d make a great training coach. I’m getting too old to stand around screaming at guys to straighten up.”

“Is this your way of telling me to retire?”

Pratt laughs so loudly, I’m sure Gregory hears it in his office down the hall. “Not a chance. I’m only saying when you do, there’s a place for you. I want you to stick around, Doyle.”

With nowhere else to go and no other plans after retirement, it’s a right beautiful offer. “I’ll consider it,” I say. “Thank you, Coach.”

“Sure thing. Don’t let those young guys run you around. And stop doing things to annoy the owner.” He grins and dismisses me.

The rest of the team has already disappeared, so I take my time, think about heading to the gym to work out before heading home. A day off is lovely, but I’m not sure what to do with myself. Once I reach the long, windowed corridor that leads to the exit, a car pulls to a stop at the stairs. Freya steps out and shuts the door before leaning on the window, presumably to chat with the driver. It’s the same car I followed last night, so there is little doubt that the driver is our new team mascot. Well, since we are going to discover her identity anyway, I see no reason not to go out and apologize.

I’m just heading that way when Freya backs up and the car begins to drive away. I’ve lost my chance, but as it passes I peer through the window. The driver has long, dark brown hair and beautiful eyes that connect with mine. The car hitches, then speeds across the lot, probably to escape me.

Her eyes. Her hair. Her face.

I rub my eyes and work to bring myself back to reality, back to a land where I’m insane if I think I just saw Finchley Bennett drive away from me. It can’t be. It doesn’t make sense.

Except that it might.

I run down the stairs and halfway across the lot. “Finchley!” I scream, but the car doesn’t slow. I spin in a circle, trying to remember where my car is, but it’s on the other side of the lot. By the time I spin back to the exit, she’s gone. My whole body screams at me to chase her on foot, find her any way that I can, but it’s foolish. There are other ways to confirm what my heart already knows is true.

Freya is already inside the building. I hurry back to the stairs, impatient as the day I was born to get inside and into Freya’s office. My heart races, bringing panic into my chest. The weight of an elephant settles there, threatening to cut off precious oxygen to my brain. I’m not sure I can survive this if I’m wrong about the mascot’s identity, not with my body reacting like it is. I’ve never had a panic attack before, but I’m almost positive that is what is about to happen.

I sway and my vision wavers. My entire existence—past and present—collides as I try to work through what makes sense and what doesn’t. I manage to turn around and climb the stairs and make a mad dash to the jacks. Inside, I lean on the sink and try to regain some semblance of normalcy to my breathing. My stomach threatens to toss my coffee but a few swallows eases the rumble.

Finchley Bennett. This can’t be true.

The anonymity, the performance, the way my entire soul had been drawn to her that day at practice. It’s torture, and she has to know even existing in the same town as me will do me in. Well, fair play, my lady. Fair play. I no doubt burned her beyond measure, but it isn’t as though my life has been wonderful since leaving her. It’s been as banjanxed as that office chair Turner smashed.

The echo of a slamming door pulls me from my misery. I splash my face with cold water, pat it dry, and try to calm down enough that I’m presentable to the public. Back in the hallway, Freya is headed my way. Rather, she’s headed to her office. She makes eye contact with me and smiles, but I’m certain I look like the backside of a donkey.

“Aiden, what’s wrong?” She asks me this all the while glancing out the window.

“Was that Finchley Bennett who just dropped you off?” I ask. No sense cuttin’ around it.

Freya’s eyes soften and she grips her folders. “Aiden, I can’t talk about it right now.”

It’s as good as a yes.

“Right. Have a good day, love,” I say, patting her shoulder as I pass. She’s a doll, and I won’t have her getting into trouble for me. I know she wants to say more. Her face says a lot on its own, but her posture adds a degree of urgency to her stance. She leans towards me as I pass, almost as if she wants to hug the sadness right out of me.

“Aiden,” she calls. I freeze, my soul bracing for impact. “Just…just be patient, okay?”

I can’t even look at her. If I do, what little remains of my composure will fall away. So I nod and hurry back outside.

In my car, I message the only three men I can talk to about this. They’re all busy at the moment, but we’ll meet at Brokedown for dinner. I’m going to need a good talkin’ to or I’m at risk of going off the rails.

I wish I could say I did more with my day than stare at a wall, but the truth is I spent much of it overthinking every moment of my life and relationship with Finchley. I did take a moment to repair the chair, if only to see if it might also repair my broken mind. It did not, but at least Turner can rest his bum on a safe chair.

When twilight approaches, I break from my stupor, shower, and head to Brokedown. Upon arrival, I scope out the place. Ivan and his entourage of old men are just leaving, which is a shame. I could use his sage advice, but perhaps the guys will have something to offer. In the corner booth, Archer and Dex chat while waiting for me. Evan enters just as I reach the table.

“Well, to what do we owe this impromptu old man’s meeting?” Archer asks, resting his hands on the table.

“Speak for yourself,” Evan says. He slides into the booth beside me. “I still have a full career ahead of me.”

Archer, quite unlike a distinguished older gentleman, throws a straw wrapper at Evan. At least since he and Ronnie have gotten together, he’s relaxed. He enjoys life again. Of course, he still misses June in some ways, but he’s moved on. Found love again. The exact opposite of what I have done. I can’t move on, can’t possibly love another woman, and if Finchley Bennett is here in Denver I’m probably not far from the grave anyway.

Evan nudges the paper aside and gives me his attention. “Seriously, what’s up? I’ve been worried about you all day.”

Dex sips his water but gives me his undivided attention. My life, what has it turned into? One of those drama shows the cleaning crew at the rink watches after lunch, that’s what.

“After the meeting this morning, Coach held me back,” I say, forcing a frown onto Archer’s lips. I wave my hand. “Nothing terrible. He told me he knows I’m the one who followed the mascot last night, fussed a little, then told me he’d like me to stick around after I retire.”

“You’re retiring?” Evan asks, panicked.

“Easy, kid. I’m not retiring, not yet. He merely wanted me to know he has a position in mind for me when I do. Training coach.”

“For real?” Evan asks.

“Yep, I’m not coddin’ ya, but that’s not why I called you to meet with me. I need yer help. I’m about to lose my mind, and I’m not sure I can keep it together without help.”

Dex’s lips part and he scoots forward. “Aiden, what’s going on? I’ve never seen you this out of sorts before. It’s kinda freaky, honestly.”

More people enter the tavern, filling it fast. I’m unnerved as I can be, but that’s the point of meeting with my friends. Archer and Dex have been Dragons for a long time. Evan has been a friend since he was signed, and the three are trustworthy with my impending minor—all right, my major—mental break.

“When I was leaving the rink this morning, I saw someone drop Freya off at the front. It was the same car I followed last night.”

“The mascot? Did you see her?” Archer asks.

“I did. When she drove off.” I grab a menu to help me focus.

“Hey, the ladies are here,” Evan says, spying the group of women who must have entered recently. They take up the corner booth on the other side of the tavern. Gwen and Greer sit beside Freya, while Millie Jane, Ronnie, and Chantelle sort out where they’ll sit. Myra and Stevie are with them, heading over to the bar, while another woman beams so brightly, I think my heart stops.

“Millie Jane didn’t mention where they were going. I just assumed someplace else.” Dex says, shrugging. “We’ll just give them some space to hang out, maybe dip out after Aiden tells us what’s got him all tied up.”

“I have a good feeling I know what’s got him tied up,” Archer says, eyes darting between me and that smiling woman. “I think that’s the new mascot with them.”

Evan turns in the booth beside me, spying her out. “The woman with long brown hair?”

I nod. “Yeah, that’s her. She’s the one who dropped Freya off at the rink. She drove the car I followed,” I admit, wondering if I’ll have to spell the next part out for them.

Archer pulls his gaze from the ladies and sets it on me. I’m fidgeting with everything I can get my hands on, praying one of them figures it out so I don’t have to say it out loud.

“That’s not…I mean, it can’t be. Can it?” Archer’s tone says he’s putting the pieces together but can’t believe it.

“It can. And it is. It’s her.” I lick my lips and lean back into the booth but it does little good. If Finchley turns this way, she’ll see me.

“How do you know she’s the new mascot?” Evan asks, still not clued into what is happening.

“I just do,” I say, gaze still connected with Archer’s.

Evan falls back into his seat with a huff. “Well, now we know and can stop wondering. She’s beautiful. I guarantee the guys will fight each other to ask her out first.”

“Not on their lives. I’ll kill them all,” I say with a growl that makes Evan sit straight and face me.

Dex sips his water again, likely trying to break the tension. It doesn’t seem like he’s figured it out either so I have to say it out loud. Make it real. Pray I don’t fall apart right in front of my closest friends.

“That, my friends, is Finchley Bennett.”

Water sprays all over my face as Dex chokes and wipes his chin. “Sorry. Sorry, dude but, what?”

I take his napkin and wipe my face, brow furrowed. “It’s Finchley. My Finchley.”

“What are the odds?” Archer asks. “Have you talked to her? Does she know you play for the Dragons? What are you going to do?”

“Haven’t a clue, no, probably, and I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

Dex’s eyes are wide as he looks past me. “Well, you better figure it out soon. She’s looking over here, and she doesn’t look very excited.”