Chapter 8

"You didn"t sign it?"Clara hissed as they got back into his truck. Jack hit the start button and turned on the seat warmers. "Jack, seriously? Was there something terrible in one of the clauses?"

"You"d know if you came with me."

Clara rolled her eyes. "I wasn"t going to be a third wheel on a date."

"It wasn"t a date. It was?—"

"A business meeting, yeah, I know." She slumped against the seat and clicked in her seat belt. "She was so nice, though. And beautiful and talented." Clara sighed. "She could"ve made a great fake girlfriend."

Jack shot his sister a sidelong glance. "I don"t need a fake girlfriend."

"True, you need an actual one," Clara muttered as she pulled her lip balm from her purse. She smoothed it on then rubbed her lips together. "Want any?"

Jack shook his head. The oil from the tacos was still soaking into the skin around his mouth. He"d flirted with her. What the hell had he been thinking? The little sound she'd made when he pulled on the table had lodged in his brain like a goat's head burr. It pricked when he moved.

"I'll find a girlfriend when I'm ready." He clenched the wheel as they waited at the stoplight. Clara and Oscar, along with half the players on the Snowballs, had been trying to set him up for months. He"d have been lying if he said he didn"t think about companionship. There were nights where he craved it. The problem was that the one person he wanted by his side was buried under a metre of earth.

Clara sighed. "She was right, you know."

"Who was?"

"Delia. About you being a nice person."

The light turned green and he turned left. "I didn't just go for you. I was curious about the whole thing, too."

"But you wouldn"t have gone if you didn"t know it was important to me."

He shrugged. "Maybe I would have."

Clara smirked. "Don"t pretend to be too cool for school. You can"t pull it off." The corner of Jack's mouth lifted as he adjusted his grip on the wheel. Clara looked pleased. "Are you working from home tomorrow?"

Jack nodded, already skipping ahead to the insane schedule he had to keep. Work. Meetings. Practice. Lifting. Somehow get in his nutrition. Sleep. Rinse. Repeat. "I'll be home for the morning, at least. I should be getting some samples in the mail. If they arrive on time, it would be good to meet with Xander in person."

"Xander? That"s the designer?"

"Yep. He"s ready to make mock ups." Big Rick, the company he worked for, was redesigning one of their least popular men's coats for the next ski season, and Jack's deadline to get the portfolio options was looming.

"Isn't that a pretty fast turnaround?"

Jack turned onto the exit for Deerfoot and sped up to merge. "Yeah, the samples are usually the bottleneck."

"Then you have practice . . . with the BLIZZARD!" Clara cupped her hands around her mouth and mimicked a crowd cheering his name.

Jack laughed. "Right."

Clara dropped back against her seat. "I still can't believe this is your life! My little brother . . ." She shook her head and grinned at him. "You like the guys?"

"I feel old."

"You are old, and don"t even say it." Clara stuck out her tongue. Jack bit back his comment about her being eighteen months older. Everyone assumed he was the oldest sibling anyway because of their size difference. And because there was a bit of salt and pepper starting to appear when he grew his beard out.

Clara yawned as they pulled onto her street. "That was amazing. Truly. Even if you don't want Delia as your fake girlfriend, which I still think you should reconsider, I'm glad we went tonight. Thank you so much, Jacky." She reached over and tried to ruffle his hair, but he blocked her arm and nearly swerved onto the sidewalk.

_____

Jack stepped into the Saddledome, and as the chill of the arena pressed against his skin, the weight on his shoulders immediately lessened. All morning he"d been getting texts and screenshots with pictures of him and Delia at Malley"s the night before. Most of them had, in fact, been of his ass. Apparently, the whole country thought it was adorable that he"d stepped in to protect Delia from view as she ate. There were also pics of Mary standing in front of the two of them with a stern look on her face. The headline "Someone"s Been Pucking Naughty" was his personal favourite.

In the past six hours, he'd received an education. Clara had informed him that the video taken of them was going viral on TikTok, where an online community of avid book fans were next to rabid at the news that he"d been spotted out with Delia. #realliferomcom was trending on three different platforms. The whole thing was insanity.

There had been a group of people staking out spots by the Saddledome when he'd arrived, but security there was good. He'd given a wave toward the fence as he walked into practice, wishing he"d worn something better than his typical joggers and a hoodie.

Something had definitely shifted since the night before, and he was working to grasp the scope of it. Would it all blow over in a day or two? A week? It would have to die down at some point since he had no intention of stoking the fire with more photo ops. His time with Delia Melise was a one and done.

Jack walked down the hall, then pushed through the doors into the dressing room. Instead of being met with André powdering his balls on the bench, there was low chatter humming beneath pump-up music. The dressing room itself was pristine. Better than the facility in Springbank, which was saying something.

There were spacious, personalized lockers for each player, constructed from polished wood instead of cheap metal. His name plate wasn"t up yet, but their manager had assured him multiple times it was coming. The floors were covered with durable, non-slip rubber matting instead of bare concrete, and to one side, there was a large, logo-emblazoned carpet with the Blizzard"s emblem. Besides the state-of-the-art speakers, there was a high-tech video system set up for game analysis and strategy sessions, a medical and training room with the latest in rehabilitation equipment, and a nutrition center. Since he worked a full-time job, he had yet to take advantage of any of it.

Jack wound his way through the equipment and half-dressed players to his spot.

"Hey, Jack. Good to see you." Nathan Pelletier put out a fist, and Jack bumped it before setting his gear down on the bench.

"Good weekend?"

Nathan nodded. "Chill. Spent it with the wife and kids." At twenty-seven, he was two years younger than Jack and already had a three-year-old and a six-month-old baby. "You?" Before Jack could answer, he snorted. "I"m sorry, I can"t do it, bud. I was going to try and play it cool, but you have to tell me how you met Delia."

The second the word "Delia" left his lips, hoots and hollers sounded out through the room along with "Robbing the cradle, eh, bud?" and "Did you smash?"

Jack"s ribs ratcheted around his lungs. "My sister"s a huge fan. She was nice enough to say hi to us after her show."

"I didn"t see your sister in the picture," Monahan, the Blizzard's center noted, and Jack wanted to pinch himself to make sure this was real. His NHL heroes were standing there in the dressing room digging for information on his night?

"Was she the Karen chewing you out, bud?" Lindholm asked.

Tkachuk grunted as he pulled on his pads. "Are you a fan of her music?"

"No, that was Delia's friend, and yes, I think her music's great." Jack turned to unzip his bag, ignoring the groans of his teammates. He knew what he"d have to do to keep their attention, but the idea of saying anything else about Delia when he"d talked with her for a total of forty minutes seemed asinine. Maybe they had the luxury of getting distracted by a pretty face, but Jack didn"t. Coaches and management were watching him like a hawk at practices and games, and he had to look his best out there.

He dressed on autopilot as banter swirled around him, catching bits and pieces about the threesome Nils Johanssen had on Saturday with best friends he met at the Stampede last summer. They were either from Amsterdam or loved to visit Amsterdam. Or wanted to pretend Calgary was Amsterdam for the night. Either way, Nils was a big fan.

"How did you meet up with her, though?" Monahan's voice cut through the machismo as Jack pulled on his jersey.

He grunted. "Happened to stand next to her publicist. Someone asked for my autograph, and he recognized me." Even without signing the contract, he was lying for that girl.

"And you went out for dinner?"

Jack replayed Delia laughing as he made a mess of his taco. "Yeah, everyone was starving after the show."

Nathan chuckled. "Keeping it low-key. I get it."

"There's nothing to?—"

"I get it, bud." He patted Jack's shoulder, then sat to lace his skates.

There was no good explanation for why he wouldn't be trying to pursue a famous singer, so he didn't bother pushing it. Instead, he finished getting dressed while trying to keep his mind from launching into comparisons between him and the other wingers on the team.

Lindholm, with his electrifying pace, had been a first-round pick, twelfth overall, in the 2021 draft. Last season, he boasted an impressive tally of twenty-four goals and thirty assists, but his defensive game still needed work

Then there was Owen Monahan, drafted in the second round, thirty-fifth overall in 2019. He'd become known for his physicality, amassing two hundred hits in the last season alone. His offensive numbers were modest with fifteen goals and twenty assists, but his plus-minus stood at +12.

Liam MacDonald, the latest addition, was chosen eighteenth overall in the most recent draft. His rookie year had been a roller coaster, but he managed to notch ten goals and fifteen assists, a respectable start with a plus-minus of -2. If the last six weeks were any sign, though, Liam's career was on the backslide. He'd been showing up late to practice. Getting less ice time. Jack had never shirked his responsibilities, but he couldn't help but see something of himself in the kid.

After a brief team meeting with Coach Novak and Assistant Coach Kreviasuk, the Blizzard charged down the tunnel to the ice. Practice kicked off with speed drills, then endurance conditioning. Jack leaned into the burn, glad to have a reason not to be in his head.

They moved into passing drills, and Jack dug in to keep up. Lindholm and MacDonald were fast. Strong. He was used to playing with the Snowballs, and while Tyler, Sean, and Country had intensity, they were ten years older than the guys here. Jack had to push, and it felt good.

It also scared the hell out of him. One dream game wasn't enough to clinch his spot on the team, especially since the player he was replacing wasn't out permanently. He had to start putting up stats. ASAP.

The whistle sliced across the arena as they circled up for a scrimmage.

"Harrison!" Coach Kreviasuk called from the boards. "Management needs a minute."

Jack pressed his blades into the ice, pulling to a stop. "Should I?—"

"Go ahead and get changed."

Shit.Jack's stomach churned like it was filled with rocks. That was it, then. They'd decided to bench him or pull out of his contract. There were enough contingencies built in, it wouldn't be difficult.

Jack tromped to the dressing room and peeled off his gear. He showered as fast as he could to minimize the dread and avoid running into his teammates as they finished practice. He cleared out his locker, which didn't hold much anyway, and trekked to the upper levels of the Saddledome. The rubber on the soles of his shoes squeaked against the polished floors.

Jack was ushered into a meeting room that smelled of new paint and a vanilla scented candle. There was a mini fridge and bar along the far wall and an oval table in the center surrounded by high backed chairs.

The team"s General Manager, Alex Renard, and the Head of Marketing, Lisa Carter, who he'd met upon his initial signing were already seated, their expressions unreadable. "Jack, take a seat," Alex began, his tone cordial. Jack was already on edge, and the clinical greeting didn't help.

"Wasn't expecting to be back here so soon." Jack pulled out a chair and sat.

"Sorry we had to interrupt practice, but I've got a flight to catch tonight." Alex tapped his phone screen as if to emphasize how little time he had to deal with the situation. He glanced up. "Why are you carrying your game gear?"

Jack frowned. "I wanted to thank you for the opportunity to—" he started, but Lisa cut him off with a wave of her hand.

"Jack, we appreciate that, but we wanted to have a quick discussion about the buzz you"ve been generating. Our ticket sales for Saturday's game went through the roof this morning. Seems like your little escapade with Delia Melise has caught everyone"s attention."

Jack blinked. This was about his dinner with Delia? He could think of a hundred other reasons for ticket sales to fluctuate. Good weather or the fact that they were playing the Oilers being his top picks. "You're sure it's not because it's Edmonton?"

Lisa clicked around on her laptop, then turned the screen to face him. "These were our ticket sales for our last rivalry game. About ten percent higher than normal season sales. And this—" She clicked again. "Is our gross ticket sales as of thirty seconds ago compared with where we sat last night at seven."

"Holy. Hell." Jack ran a hand through his damp hair. The sky-high bar on the chart dwarfed the one next to it. How was that possible?

"The fans are rallying, the media is buzzing, and obviously, that's been a boon for the franchise. But we"re wondering . . ." Alex paused, eyeing Jack with a mix of curiosity and calculation. "Is this going to be an ongoing thing? Just so we can plan accordingly."

Jack"s mind raced. He'd walked into this room expecting to face a dissolution of his contract and instead found out that his hour of sitting across from Delia eating Birria tacos had nearly doubled the ticket sales for the Blizzard that weekend.

Exactly like Tony had told him it would.

Jack cleared his throat. "Uh, I'm not sure. The whole thing is pretty fresh."

Lisa"s laugh was light, but her eyes locked onto his like a bird of prey. "Well, we're fans of whatever this turns into, and while we"re not in the business of managing your personal life, we did want to make it clear that this kind of press is exactly what we want to encourage. It"s good for the team, and what"s good for the team is good for all of us, right?"

Jack nodded. "Right." He spun the pen sitting in front of him on the table a half turn. "Delia lives in Toronto, though, and?—"

"In situations like this we're happy to make accommodations. Just keep us in the loop, and we can make adjustments as needed. I'll talk with your coaches." Alex pushed out his chair and slipped his phone in his pocket.

Accommodations?What kind of accommodations?

Lisa slipped a card across the polished wood. "It would be best if you contacted me directly, and if this becomes more than something fresh, if Delia has a publicist, I'd love to be introduced." She stood and motioned for him to exit as Alex gathered his personal items into a leather messenger bag.

Jack stalked back into the hall feeling like his head had just been plunged in a bucket of ice water. He wasn"t being fired. Not even close. He was . . . getting accommodations? Encouragement? Special treatment?

How the hell had a few pictures made this kind of impact? It didn"t seem possible, though nothing in his life over the past month had seemed possible. If someone would"ve told him that by March he"d be playing in the NHL, getting phone calls from famous pop stars, and selling out the Saddledome, he would"ve laughed in their face. The whole thing sounded like something he would've written on his vision board in grade three.

Jack walked to his truck in a daze, barely noticing the crowd that had gathered by the entrance to the lot. Do you have more plans to see Delia? The implications were obvious. He"d put butts in seats after his first appearance with the Blizzard, but those numbers were next level.

He threw his gear in the back, realizing he should've returned it all to his locker, then slumped into the front seat. He drew a deep breath and rested his forehead on the steering wheel.

After a few moments, he pulled out his phone. What"s good for the team is good for all of us, right? If he"d felt like a money grubber looking over the contract last night, it was nothing compared to dialing Tony"s number now.

"Let me guess, management is thrilled with you right now." Tony sounded smug, and Jack didn"t have one gram of leverage.

"Yeah, you could say that." Jack started the truck, but didn"t pull out of his spot.

Tony chuckled. "I"ve got to be honest, I expected this call a lot sooner than ten o"clock. Though I guess it"s only eight in Calgary, eh?"

"Sorry, forgot about the time change."

"No, I"m always up late." He grunted like he was pushing up from an easy chair. "Any changes you want to the contract before I have Kels send it over for you to sign?"

"I don"t think so." Jack felt like a dog skulking back to his owner with his tail between his legs. "I guess I don"t fully understand how this will work. Delia"s recording a new album there. I"m playing here. My management team says they can make some accommodations?—"

Tony laughed out loud. "Damn right, they can. Listen, it will take creativity, but we"ll make it work. Do you have an agent or?—"

"Head of marketing. Her name"s Lisa."

"Perfect. Send me over her info and we"ll take care of it. At this point, you just need to sit back and enjoy the ride. And get to the damn airport on time, Kels hates rescheduling flights."