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Chapter 2

Each pullof Jack"s laces spurred a slurry of bittersweet emotion. He sat in the dressing room of the ice arena that had become his home for the past five months. In one season, the Snowballs had become family, whereas he'd spent years with the Admirals and besides Flank and Rob, had never been excited to see any of them.

Now, he was leaving that newfound brotherhood. Not forever, he reminded himself. Though he"d be lying if he didn"t admit he hoped for at least a few seasons.

"When do you sign your life away?" Brett tapped the side of Jack's skate with his stick.

"Nine tomorrow morning." He cinched the laces and tied a rabbit-ear double bow, then straightened his back.

The Snowball"s captain, Sean, shoved his empty equipment bag into his locker. "Your emancipation will be complete."

Jack exhaled. "I wish I could do both."

"Bud, could you imagine Wheatfill"s whining if we won the tourney this year with a signed NHL player on our roster?" André picked up his helmet off the bench. "He already pitched a fit on the league boards about us snagging you in the first place."

Sean huffed. "It was open season. It"s not my fault Wheatfill"s too busy sleeping with other people"s girlfriends to round out his team."

Tyler laughed. "Good thing you don"t hold grudges for ten years or I"d be nervous."

Sean shot him a look, then lumbered toward the door holding his gloves, helmet, and stick. The rest of the team followed like ducklings, and as the chilled arena air hit Jack"s face, an overwhelming sense of gratitude washed over him.

He was going to do this. Play hockey in the NHL. Even if it was only for a few months, at nearly thirty, he'd be playing on the biggest stage in the world.

"You"re one lucky son of a bitch, Jack." Boyd clapped him on the back as they poured out onto the ice through the gap in the boards.

Country pulled his helmet on. "Not luck. He earned that spot."

"With a little help." Jack wouldn't ever celebrate an injury, no matter who the player was. But if someone on the Blizzard was going to get injured, he was grateful it was their right winger. He'd never forget how the general public had rallied around him and clamoured for him to take the open spot on the roster, either.

"How could they not want to have your babies after that goal?" André spun in a circle on the ice, mimicking the play that Jack had watched on repeat. It was surreal. The move had been all instinct. Some players study the game, and some feel it in their bones. That was what his Juniors coach had always said.

Jack fell into a couple of laps around the rink, laughing when Country couldn"t help but get competitive with the warm-up. Jack pushed faster, matching him stride for stride. "Compensating for something?"

Country grinned. "I have a huge penis."

"That"s not what Jenna said last night."

Country knocked him into the boards, and Jack scrambled to catch back up. Probably not the best idea to get injured at practice before he signed an NHL contract in the morning. Jack paired up with Mike for passing drills, then wove with Brett and Tyler against Mike and Darcy in three-on-two.

"You find a new guy yet?" He asked Sean as they grabbed pinnies for a scrimmage.

"Nope. Especially not with your skillset."

"Well, impossible to match that."

Sean rolled his eyes, but before he could skate back to centre, Jack stopped him. "I"m sorry to leave you hanging, bud."

"Sorry? I"m not. You get to play for the Blizzard. Hell, I"d ditch every last one of you in a heartbeat to get that kind of opportunity."

When he was younger, that may have been true. Sean was now in his late thirties and probably hadn"t considered a pro career since his first grey chest hair. Jack, on the other hand, hadn"t ever stopped thinking about it. How he"d come so close, and the opportunity had slipped through his fingers. It was something every guy on the Snowballs probably went through at some point, but he hadn't ever arrived at acceptance.

Jack jumped into the scrimmage, immediately receiving a pass from Sean and darting toward the goal. He was met by a solid check from Darcy, sending him flat on his butt.

"Just prepping you now for the big leagues." Darcy stole the puck and took off.

Minutes later, Jack fought for a breakaway and deked Darcy so hard, his knees buckled. He took Boyd in goal one on one, faking to the left followed by a quick shot to the right. The puck slammed into the back of the net with a satisfying thud. Darcy muttered something under his breath as he skated past the blue line, which was all the win Jack needed.

He couldn"t wipe the grin off his face as they finished up practice an hour later and retreated to the dressing room. Jack stripped off his equipment and base layer that stuck to him like a second skin. His feet slapped against the tile as he found a spot against the wall and started the shower.

He tested the spray and waited for it to warm up before stepping into the water, then hunched and dropped his head to let the stream wash over him. He never understood why shower heads weren"t higher on the wall at the arena. The only people who used them were athletes.

"Where is the ink going?" Country nodded toward his left arm.

Jack flipped his wrist to reveal a patch of bare skin on the inside of his bicep. He was covered from wrist to shoulder with tattoos he"d collected since his first year out of high school, but this spot had always been saved for his first NHL team. Last Christmas, his dad had asked if he was going to fill it with something else.

"It"s going to hurt like hell," Brett called out from the next shower slot down.

Tyler scoffed. "He"s got about two hundred percent more tattoos than you, bud. I think he"s aware."

Brett filled his hand with foamed soap from the dispenser. "Don"t call Bowen to hold your hand. He's terrible with needles."

"I thought I"d call that girl from Curtis"s party." Jack forced a smile, pretending he had the least bit of interest in some girl he'd met at a bonfire.

"Who? Rhonda?" Country asked.

Jack scrubbed soap into his scalp. "She was funny." That part was true. He'd met plenty of girls who were pretty and charming over the past three years. It didn't matter. His heart had been sealed up, and he wasn't planning to open it up to fresh air and sunlight anytime soon.

Country rinsed and shut off his water. "I think you"re a little late. She"s got a thing for this doctor who lives by Anne and Tina."

"But now I"m an NHL player. I think that trumps saving lives." He was good at playing the part. Making sure nobody worried about him. Even though the guys were solid, none of the Snowballs knew about his past. The desire to open up about his deepest, darkest wounds had never sparked at practice.

Country laughed as he wrapped a towel around his waist and stalked back to the benches. "Definitely lead with that."

Jack finished washing and stood under the hot water a minute more before turning off the shower and drying off. He inspected the uneven tiles with discoloured grout under his feet and inhaled the scent of the soap that was distinct to those dressing rooms. He searched for something else to laugh about.

That was his last practice with the Snowballs. His chest tightened as he walked back to his locker and started to dress.

André"s voice lifted above the sound of splashing water and jostling of equipment. "Tu voulais quelqu"un de solide, Quelqu"un qui sait où elle réside. Mais de ce qui suivrait, nous ignorions le pacte. Je suis désolé. Je t"en prie, c"est un fait!" He whooped and swung a towel around his his head. "They never play the French version in Calgary, and listen!" He stood on the bench and pointed at the speaker buried in the ceiling tiles.

"Is that Delia Melise?" Ryan ran his towel over his long hair, then shook like a shaggy dog.

"Is it—?" André pursed his lips and planted his hands on his still-naked hips. "You ask like she"s not the sexiest girl to come out of Quebec in a hundred years?"

"I thought she was from Toronto?" Boyd pulled on his shirt.

"She was born in Quebec City, and it counts." André stepped down off the bench, joining in at the chorus with abrasive volume and intermittent arm motions.

Jack chuckled. "I dated a girl from Quebec City once. I think she smoked more than you do."

André pulled on his pants, and his brow furrowed. "Not possible." As if to prove it, he pulled the carton of Marlboros from his pocket and slipped two behind his ear. Jack laughed and shook his head. He was going to miss the hell out of that dressing room.

He took time packing his equipment and zipping up his bag. When he had no other excuse to stand in front of his locker, he shrugged his black puffer coat on and slung the bag over his shoulder.

As he turned, Sean stepped over Ryan"s gear on the ground and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "Not so fast, bud." Sean motioned to Tyler, who was in the middle of pulling something out of his locker. Everyone on the team, including André, quieted.

"Had to get you something to remember us by." Tyler lifted a swath of mustard yellow and teal green fabric.

Jack groaned. "Where did you get that?" It was the jersey he"d bought at the thrift store with Brett and Tyler the night of his initiation only a few months prior. He was ninety-nine percent certain he"d thrown that in the garbage after practice.

"We made some adjustments." Sean nodded, and Tyler turned it around. Jack"s jaw dropped. His name was now stitched across the back instead of whatever player"s name had been there before. Below the all-caps "Harrison" read the line, "Master at handling his stick."

Jack laughed out loud as Tyler strode forward to hand it to him. "How?"

Curtis snorted. "Sharla thought it was so nice we thought you were such an impressive stick handler."

The pieces clicked into place. Jack had been to enough Sunday Suppers to know Sharla Thompson, Sean's mom, was a seamstress and a talented one at that. He'd seen the eighties ski coat she"d crafted from scratch for Curtis"s birthday. "She did this?"

Sean nodded. "If you ever let it slip that I made her stitch a masturbation joke on a jersey, I"ll tell Rhonda you have a micro penis."

"More of a chode, don"t you think?" André called out, and the whole team chortled like they were noticing pubic hair in grade seven gym class. Turned out penis jokes were still funny whether you were twelve or twenty-nine. Maybe by fifty, they"d all grow out of it. He hoped not.

Jack looked up from the fashion disaster of a jersey and opened his mouth to say something, but his words stuck in his throat. If he'd spoken, he probably would've expressed how depressed he"d been leaving the AHL without a contract. Or the relief that washed over him when Sean reached out with an opportunity to hold onto the sport he loved, and then his trepidation before meeting the team. He would've admitted how much he"d needed the Snowballs and how much he was going to miss their practices and games. In the end, the only words he could get out were, "Thank you."

Heads nodded around the dressing room, and Jack threw his free arm around Sean, clapping him on the back. As he walked down the narrow aisle, he fist-bumped the rest of his teammates until he found himself standing in front of the door. He turned, nodded one final time, then exited into the hall.

_____

When Jack stepped into his sister"s house, the aroma of roasted garlic potatoes hit him straight in the face. He took off his shoes, dropped his gear in the boot room, and walked into the kitchen to find his brother-in-law Oscar watching over slabs of meat sizzling in a cast iron pan.

"Hey." Oscar looked up and waved his spatula. "Any fans stalk you tonight?"

"Just two. They were waiting in the parking lot." Jack rounded the counter and rolled up his sleeves. It still felt surreal that people A, knew who he was, and B, cared enough to wait for him after practice to get his autograph. After his first pro game, he"d been recognized four times in the grocery store that same weekend. Now that word had gotten out about him officially signing with the Blizzard, he"d learned to expect that any stranger he interacted with knew his middle name and birthdate.

Jack washed his hands with soap and warm water. "How can I help?"

"You can chop some cucumbers for the salad. I already peeled them." Oscar motioned to the cutting board at his left.

Jack nodded and picked up the knife. It was Monday, which meant his sister Clara would"ve just gotten off her shift at eight. She should be home any minute. "How was work?"

"Worky."

Jack chuckled. "Tax deadline is coming up."

Oscar blew out a breath. "That"s why we"re having steak. I need something to remind myself that life is worth living."

"Plus, if you make steak on your night, I can get away with spaghetti on mine."

Oscar chuckled. "You made that last week, didn"t you?"

"It was fettuccine. Keep it straight." Jack had barely sliced four cucumber rounds when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He dried his hands on the dish towel next to the sink, then pulled it out and, seeing Sean's name, answered.

"Miss me that much already?"

Sean grunted. "Nonstop weeping since you left the dressing room."

"I figured." Jack leaned against the counter and watched Oscar shake steak seasoning over the seared meat.

"Got an interesting call a few minutes ago."

Jack frowned. "What kind of call?" He couldn"t think of a single reason Sean would be receiving a call involving him unless it was something he didn"t want to hear. A league fine or complaint. He steeled himself.

"It was a publicist looking for you. He"d searched online for contact information and already sent you a Facebook message."

Jack shifted on his feet. "I don"t check Facebook."

"Which is why he ended up calling me."

Jack connected the dots. "I"m listed on the Snowball"s roster and your contact info is on the Elite league page."

"Bingo."

"What did he want?" Jack started to pace.

"Well, that"s the thing. I"m not sure I'm buying what he's selling."

"And that is?"

"That he's the publicist for Delia Melise."

The furrow in Jack"s brow deepened to a chasm. "The singer?" He'd heard her songs on the radio. André had been singing along to one in the dressing room.

"That"s what he said."

"Why would he want to get in touch with me?"

Sean exhaled. "Your guess is as good as mine, bud. Said he had something he wanted to discuss. I didn"t give him your number, but he left his contact info. I had Tyler do a quick search. The name he gave me matches up, but I didn"t wait to hear if the dude actually works for her."

"Text it to me?"

"Yep."

"Thanks, bud."

Sean hung up, and Jack watched his screen. A moment later, ten digits showed up in a text from Sean. A few seconds after that, a text from Tyler followed.

> The guy"s legit. Found a picture of him with Delia at her show in Vancouver a couple of weeks ago

"Everything okay?" Oscar asked as he transferred the now seared steaks to a cutting board.

"Yeah. I just need a minute." Jack couldn't quell his curiosity. He hit the number, then strode into the living room as the phone started to ring.

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