Chapter 31

Jack walkedinto the same office he"d stood in at the end of February when the Blizzard had offered him a spot on the team. When Alex told him about Beefus being injured. Then again when he"d been summoned by Alex and Lisa about the publicity surrounding Delia. Both of those meetings had left him feeling like he"d just eaten a Pizza Pop. Sweaty and conflicted.

"Jack, have a seat." Alex motioned to a leather chair in front of his desk, and when Jack walked in, he realized they weren"t alone. Coach Novak and Kreviasuk were both already seated. Jack"s stomach dropped like a lead brick. He"d gone too far. He"d overstepped again, and this time they didn"t have to keep him on the roster for pretense.

He did as he was told and sat, his palms already cold and clammy. It was fine. He"d gotten to play in the NHL, something he never thought would happen. He"d scored two goals on the biggest ice in the world, and unlike the other night in the hotel with Delia, he didn"t need it to last longer. He could go back to Big Rick or find a new job if they wouldn"t have him. He"d work his way up, and . . .

His thoughts petered out. He didn"t want to sit at home on his computer. He didn"t want a desk job. He wanted to play hockey, and his attempts to find silver linings couldn"t distract him from that fact.

"How have you liked playing on the team?" Alex sat behind the desk and pulled back a ball on his Newton"s Cradle to send it ticking.

Jack swallowed. "It"s been a dream come true." That wasn"t an understatement. Even though he hadn"t meshed immediately with the guys, he"d lived for practice and games the past two months. Now that he had a good thing growing with the other players, the energy between them on the ice was even more addictive.

"Well, you"ve certainly exceeded our expectations on and off the ice. It"s not a typical occurrence to have a player going viral online for something we can applaud."

Jack chuckled. That was the truth. The last two massive hockey stories he"d heard were a sexual assault accusation and a racist statement given during a press conference. "It"s been an honour representing this team. You"ve got a good group of guys. Good coaches, and I"m just grateful?—"

Alex held up a hand and stopped him. "That sounds a hell of a lot like an exit speech." He looked to Novak, then back to Jack. "Do you think we"re firing you?"

Jack"s breath caught in his throat. "I assumed. Given that Beefus is back soon, and—" And the recent conversation where I told my coaches their strategy wasn"t working. "My age."

Alex laughed. "Jack, your age has nothing to do with anything. I saw your physical results. You"re healthy. Probably healthier than most players I"ve seen who are five years younger. You haven"t even had a blown-out knee yet."

At least he had one thing to be grateful for after sitting on the bench with the Admirals. Less wear and tear. "I feel good."

"Glad to hear it because we"d like to offer you a spot. Not right winger because as you mentioned, Beefus is back. But . . ." He tapped his fingers on the desk. "We recently had a spot open up on the left."

Left winger.That was Gaudreau"s position. And Liam MacDonald"s.

Which meant they hadn"t listened to him. He"d told Novak and Kreviasuk that Liam needed to feel a part of something, to feel wanted, and here they were kicking him to the curb right when he was finally taking steps to get better. It was short-sighted, and Jack couldn"t in good conscience take his place. But was this the hill he was going to die on? Would he give up a permanent spot on the roster to prove his point?

Jack"s heart started to sprint as he turned to his coaches. "I know you might not think I know what I"m talking about, but the kid just needs more time."

Coach Novak frowned. "Who needs more time?"

Jack threw out his hands. "MacDonald. If you cut him out now, he?—"

"Harrison, we"re not cutting MacDonald." Novak opened his mouth to say more but stopped and looked at Alex.

Alex nodded. "It"s fine, you can tell him. But this doesn"t leave the room."

Jack gripped the arms of his chair as Coach Novak started to talk. "Gaudreau"s played with us for almost six years. He"s the glue on this team, as you know. He and his wife just found out their four-year-old daughter has leukemia."

Air rushed out of Jack"s lungs like he"d pulled the plug on an air mattress.

Novak continued, "The good news is that the treatment is good. Recovery rates at that age are higher than adults who are diagnosed, so they have all the hope in the world she"ll come through treatment and enter remission, but he can"t focus on anything else. He won"t be able to focus on hockey, and he"s built a good life for himself. He"s going to announce his retirement after the series with Edmonton, win or lose."

Jack struggled to process. The idea of losing a child, or worse having to watch a child suffer, made him want to throw up. The idea of losing Gaudreau on the team because of it added another layer of injustice. Lastly, the thought that they would want him to replace such a giant . . . . "I don"t know if I"m the right guy. Those are massive skates to fill."

Coach Novak leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "Harrison, I"m not looking to build a team of heroes. I"m looking for guys that will get their ass out on the ice and work hard. Not make excuses. Lift their teammates up. I"m looking for loyalty and love for the game. You"ve shown us all of those things under a set of shit circumstances. Alex asked us who we wanted, and it"s you. Alex agrees you"re a solid choice. If you"re up for it."

Jack"s eyes stung at the corners, and he coughed to cover up his emotion. "Alex only agrees because he knows he doesn"t have to pay me Gaudreau"s salary."

Alex barked a laugh. "That"s a plus." He grabbed a slip of paper from a stainless steel holder and scrawled something on it. "Here"s the number we"re prepared to offer you." He pushed it across the desk. "Obviously other details we need to work out, and if you want to get an agent . . ."

Jack stopped listening as soon as he saw the nine and the five were followed by five zeroes. "Yes. I"m up for it." He didn"t even have to think about it. Should he have gotten an agent? Probably. But what leverage would they have? This was currently his only opportunity, and the only way he was going to increase his value was by playing in the big show.

Alex dropped his hands to the desk. "You know that"s in Canadian dollars, right? Don"t get too excited." Jack chuckled. "I"ll have everything else drawn up and you can look it over. When Gaudreau officially announces we"ll do the signing. Lisa will give you the date, and of course, Delia is invited to attend." He winked.

A sliver of ice wedged itself between Jack"s ribs as he stood and shook Alex"s hand, then thanked both of his coaches for the opportunity. It slid deeper as he strode to the door and pulled out his phone.

Everything he"d been working for had just come to fruition and the first person he wanted to talk to about it was the person this change of events would affect most. Jack wouldn"t have the summer off. It wouldn"t be practical for him to fly out to Toronto regularly, and was he that guy who would ask his girlfriend to make all the sacrifices? Hell, no.

As he rode the elevator to the ground floor, he pressed on the app he'd meant to open back at the bed and breakfast. It took him a moment to remember how to search, but he knew Delia's handle by heart since it had been tagged thousands of times on his one and only social media post.

When her channel populated, he clicked on the latest video and turned up the volume. There was Delia with her guitar. Her freckled nose and wavy hair that he'd give anything to run his hands through.

"I've been doing a little writing lately, and I wanted to share this verse with you today. Hope you like it." Delia grinned, and her nose wrinkled like a baby rabbit. When she started singing, Jack's heart flipped in his chest.

I met an older you and liked him,

But I guess that's not a surprise,

Since you've become something familiar,

Like those school yard nursery rhymes

The elevator doors opened and closed, but Jack didn't notice. He stood transfixed by the plucked strings of her guitar. The curve of her shoulder. And her lips moving around words she'd written just for him.

_____

Delia flopped down on the couch. "I miss you."

"I miss you, too."

She and Jack had talked nonstop since he"d phoned her Friday with the news of his contract. They talked about what it meant for his schedule. They talked about how sore he was after that last game in Edmonton and how he planned to up his protein for the next round. They talked about her mom. They talked about how Clara had officially announced her pregnancy over the weekend and how Jack was already looking for a new place.

They talked about the song she'd posted on TikTok that was already over a million views. Delia loved how Jack tried to dig deeper into the lyrics, fishing for her to admit the song was about him, but she couldn't quite do it because they talked about everything except what she"d blurted out on her way to the airport, and her song came from a deeper place than that.

She wanted to brush over the whole thing. Casually bring it up and say something like, That was funny, wasn"t it? Blame it on being scared or overwhelmed with the emotion of the night before and make up some artistic explanation for the song lyrics.

It was petty, and in the end, she couldn"t bring herself to do it. She had been panicking in the car, and she had posted that video after midnight. But what she'd said and sung hadn't been a result of emotional delusion. It had been truth escaping past her carefully constructed blockades.

Delia wasn't going to pretend anymore, at least not with herself. She had fallen for Jack way before that ride to the airport. Way before the hotel room. It had started that first night, if she was being honest. Probably had something to do with the way he fixated on her eyes. Or how he put his butt in the window. One of the two.

Then bit by bit that swell had grown like a chord progression, teasing her along until the final resolution.

And that was what Delia was afraid of.

That their song had peaked and they were slowly dribbling through the denouement. They kept stoking the coals with their phone calls and texts, hoping the fire could keep burning a little longer even though they could both see there were no more logs to add to the blaze.

Delia blew out a breath and kicked her legs up on the back of the sofa. "How do you think you"ll stack up against the Leafs?"

"Look at you, using nicknames like you"re an actual hockey fan."

She grinned. "And here I thought you"d be thrilled I"d taken an interest. Especially considering you still don"t listen to lyrics."

Jack scoffed. "I told you, I listen when they"re yours."

"Mmhmm. How did the announcement go?"

"Which one, Gaudreau"s?"

"Both." She heard a clatter of dishes and imagined him in the kitchen. Maybe unloading the dishwasher after he"d taken a shower. Probably shirtless . . .

"The city is devastated to see him go. Especially under those circumstances. His DM"s have been flooded."

"I can imagine. I"m guessing yours have been inundated, too?"

He hesitated, and Delia could tell he was trying to be modest. "Yeah, I think people are excited."

She scoffed. "Jack."

"What?"

"That"s like saying you think people might attend the Eras tour."

He chuckled. "Yeah. The signing was a big deal."

"I know, I watched the livestream. Have you read through those comments? There were fourteen thousand of them. That"s basically all of Alberta." That time he laughed louder, and tingles shot over her skin. "I"m so happy for you, Jack. I can"t say it enough."

"Thanks, Dels."

Delia clutched at her heart as her whole body took a collective breath. She loved when he called her that. "So your first two games are at home?"

"Yep, first game is Friday."

"Two more days to rest up."

Jack laughed. "Try a thigh shredding practice first thing tomorrow morning. Then thirty-six hours to rest up."

"Same, same." Delia yawned. "I think I better get started on this bone broth. It"s supposed to simmer overnight."

"I still can"t believe you bought organic cow knuckle bones."

"Local organic grass-fed cow knuckle bones, thank you very much." She pulled her legs down from the couch and stood, knocking her ankle on the leg of the coffee table. She grimaced.

"You"re a good daughter." There was a series of beeps, then the sound of a door closing. He"d been loading dishes not unloading. "I"ll see you next week, then."

Delia nodded. No matter whether they won or lost these two games, they"d have to play one game in Toronto. She"d get to see him. The thought both thrilled and terrified her. "Yeah, and we"ll talk before then."

"Mmhmm. Don"t burn your house down."

Delia felt the big "L" land on her tongue, but that time she swallowed it. "Good night."

Jack hesitated. ""Night."

Delia groaned as she set her phone on the counter. Why was it so hard? Why did she have to walk around in the world as if she wasn"t one of those pressurized cans that would shoot snakes the second her lid popped off. She couldn"t tell Christian what she thought of the music they were supposedly producing together, and she couldn"t own up to her feelings with Jack because—because why?

She picked her phone back up and swiped to her email, then opened up the statement IndieLake had sent over that morning. Four thousand dollars. She'd earned out, and she was getting four grand deposited into her account.

That number wasn't impressive on its own, even though it felt like a veritable windfall compared to the nothing she'd been depositing for eight months. It was the breakdown above it that sent her heart into palpitations. She'd brought in sixty-three grand in a month. Even with all her expenses, had that money not been applied to her balance, she would've taken home forty-seven thousand dollars.

In a month.

Delia set her phone down and grabbed the bag of beef skeleton from the fridge, then used a knife to slice open the packaging. She tried not to inspect the bones too closely as she dropped them into her mother's massive stock pot. Why she owned such a large piece of cookware when there were only two of them in the house was beyond her.

Delia glanced back at the recipe and blew out a breath. Right. She was supposed to chop the vegetables first. Sauté them? Optional. Definitely opting out on that one. She walked to the fridge and opened the door, then pulled out the celery and carrots. Setting them on the counter, she reached up into the hanging colander her mother kept filled with onions and squealed.

The sensation was wet and smushy, both things that onions were not supposed to be. She tilted the bowl and looked inside to find three onions, all of them shrivelled and weeping. Kind of like her soul at that moment. Delia"s face pinched as she grabbed them and threw them in the trash, then used a damp paper towel to wipe out the colander and thoroughly scrubbed her hands with lemon dish soap.

Now what?She couldn"t make bone broth without onions. Unless she wanted it to taste only of cow knuckle, which sounded abjectly terrible. Knowing her mother, she"d probably find the lack of flavour more appealing, but Delia couldn"t bring herself to make a partial batch. I don"t do things halfway. Ugh. Did everything have to remind her of Jack?

She stomped into the living room and pulled her coat—the coat—from the closet. She stopped at the door. The grocery store was eight minutes away and open until eleven. She could hop in the car, buy the onions, and be back in just over twenty.

Mary"s voice rang in her head as she touched her hand to the doorknob. "Dels, those days are gone. You can"t just get in the car and go somewhere, okay? You need to phone your security guard every single time. I know it"s crazy, but you just never know when some weirdo is going to spot you in a parking lot or when a crowd of people is going to amass. Love it or hate it, I"m going to use the C-word. You"re a full-on celebrity now, babes."

She dropped her hand from the door and dialed her new on-call guard service in Toronto. They"d already done their risk assessment of her home and community and it still felt pretentious to ring and ask them to bring a car around. But Mary was paying them for twenty-four seven service, so she might as well use it.

Within fifteen minutes of her call, the car was out front. Delia waited like she was supposed to even though the street seemed sleepier than a bear in the middle of winter. When Bryce, the guard who had taken them to the airport ages ago, was on her step, she opened the door.

"I"m sorry to bug you."

He checked that the door locked behind her. "Not bugging. This is my job."

"What do you do when I don"t need you?" she asked as they walked down the steps. She was hoping for something juicy, but all she got was,

"Usually watch the news."

Barf.Delia tried to look pleasant as she slid into the back seat. "Is ‘the news' a cover for reality TV? Ooh! Or that channel on TikTok where rabbits eat strawberries that are magically growing on vines so the bunnies have to lift up on their little hind legs to reach them?"

Bryce gave her a look in the rearview mirror. "Seatbelt?" She nodded. "Do you have a purse?" Delia held it up. "How many kilograms?"

She scoffed and pulled her purse to her chest. "We don't ask ladies about their weight."

He rolled his eyes. "Just secure it with the clip there on the console. So it doesn't become a projectile."

Delia did as he asked, disappointed she hadn't at least succeeded in dragging a lip-twitch out of him. It was fine. She'd win him over, just like Alvin. Though, that had probably been more Mary's doing.

As Bryce pulled the car away from the curb, Delia pulled out her phone and texted her friend.

How many more booty calls is it going to take to convince Alvin to move to Toronto?

We're back on this again?

These guys are stuffy

That's good. It means they're doing their job

When do you get back from the Etobicoke?

Tomorrow. Meet up for lunch? Then . . . take that meeting with Christian?

Delia frowned. How was it that Christian was so uncommunicative before releases and then wouldn't lay off when she was trying to delay a meeting for the first time since they'd started working together.

She started typing.

Has he been texting you, too? I told him?—

Her head whipped up. Their horn blared. Bright lights blinded her from the window on the opposite side of the car.

"Hands over your head!" Bryce barked from the front seat.

Delia somehow managed to do as she was told, and her phone clattered to the rubber mat. It was the last sound she heard before the screeching tires and the crunch of metal.