Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

Bash

My walk down the jetway to the team plane makes every single one of my friends stop and stare at me.

"Dude." Briggs looks me over with a critical eye. "Are you good?"

"Sage took me riding," I explain.

"Sage what?" Briggs's eyes bulge. "Wait, is that a euphemism? For, you know…" He looks around, then mouths, pegging ?

"I don't know what that means."

Briggs squirms. "It's, uh. When a lady uses a, uh. When she… straps up." I have never seen Briggs this uncomfortable before. It's almost fascinating enough to take my mind off my sore muscles.

"I'm not following." I squint at him. "Is this a sex thing?"

Briggs nods. His cheeks are flushed. I decide that I'd rather not know.

Ranger turns around. "Lube. Huge dildo. Prostate. Explosive orgasm. Good times."

"I am not walking this way for sex reasons," I tell him. "Does that answer your question?"

"Sure does." Briggs turns on his heel and hustles toward the plane. I waddle after him, wondering if I did squats in my sleep. Surely riding horses isn't supposed to hurt this much, or nobody would ever do it on purpose.

At least I have my huge container of emotional support TicTacs in my bag. Last Christmas, Latham pulled my name for the Secret Santa exchange and decided it would be funny to get one of those giant novelty containers of travel TicTacs, the kind that's as big as my head and has sixty smaller fun-size containers inside. It was a thoughtful gift, but there were two problems: first, it contained miscellaneous TicTacs, not just the orange kind I like, and second, because in order to reach the TicTacs, you had to open the large container and get out a small container, which meant a lot of extra effort, extra plastic, and wasted space that could have been filled with citrus goodness.

I have remedied the problem by keeping only the large TicTac container and filling it before each trip. I can easily fit the contents of ten full packs of regular boxes into this single giant box. I know. I'm a genius.

I'm also the last to board our private plane, which means all the guys are staring at me when I hobble aboard.

"You look like you lost a fight with a bear," Coop says.

I grimace as I stumble to my seat. My thighs are on fire. I'll need to stretch tonight to make sure I'm in shape for tomorrow's game. I'll probably also need a whirlpool and a session with my trainer. "More like a horse named Thunder." I flop down next to him and let out a relieved sigh. My legs hate me.

Still, I wouldn't trade yesterday for anything. Sage's look of pure bliss when she was riding lit my soul on fire.

I don't want her to leave. The thought hits me harder than it should because it shouldn't hit me at all.

Coop leans closer. We're seated together, so we have a chance to talk in private without anyone else overhearing. "So, Bash, what's the deal with you and Sage? She's a horse girl, right? I assume that's why you and Thunder were getting so… cozy?"

I reach down and unzip my bag to retrieve my giant box of TicTacs. "I don't know, man. I'm lost in the sauce."

"What sauce is that?"

"Relationship sauce." I pop open the lid and shake a few pieces of orange ambrosia into my palm. "I really like her, but her heart is in Montana. I can't compete with her family and her career." I hold out my palm to Coop.

He takes a piece of candy and pops it into his mouth. "Toni went to Italy. That's way farther than Montana."

"She visited Italy. She lives in Vegas. It was only temporary. Whereas Sage is just visiting me. As soon as her van is done, she's gone. She's made that very clear." I throw back five TicTacs at once.

"Whoa, slow down." Coop punches my shoulder. "You sound like you've already decided that it can't work. Have you talked to Sage? Told her how you feel?"

"I'm not sure that would be fair. Telling her something like that might make her stay when that's not what she really wants."

The plane rumbles as we take off, sparing me for a few seconds. I fiddle with my box of orange mints and wonder what the point would be. Sure, I could tell Sage how much I care about her, that I want to find a way to make things work between us, but… then what? How could I follow that up? I wouldn't leave the NHL for Sage, but I can't ask her to leave Montana for me. What are our options?

Maybe Coop's right. Maybe I've already decided. I don't actually like the decision, though, and I hope there's still time to fix it.

"You don't have to tell me your plan, Bash. I just hope you figure it out before it's too late," Coop says, fully aware of my not-so-subtle waffling. "Love… it means everything. Even more than the Stanley Cup."

He's not the only one who hopes I figure things out.

As soon as we're safely in the air and get the all-clear, the guys scramble to their feet. Dante insists that we dress well for our trip to the airport, since there's inevitably some fan taking photos for the blog. Nobody wants to wear a suit for this long cross-country flight, though. Watching the rest of my team try to change at the same time is hilarious; none of us are small guys, and instead of being patient and taking turns, they all flail around at once. It's like a badly choreographed dance. Julie, the team publicist, keeps her head down and ignores what's going on around her.

On the ice, we're a graceful bunch. In the air? Not so much.

I sit back with my jumbo container of TicTacs and shake out a few more. "Ah, the chaos of a bunch of dudes struggling to pull their pants up," I boom, loud enough for the rest of them to hear.

Latham glares over his shoulder. "If you want to wear your slacks the whole time, smart-ass, go for it."

"I'll change in a min—"

We hit turbulence so fast that the pilot doesn't have a chance to warn us. Latham, with one leg in his joggers, flops into the aisle. A squawking Oliver pinwheels into the seats and smashes into Noah, who in turn falls sideways into Ranger. They topple like bowling pins. Julie drops her tablet but manages to catch it before it hits the floor.

I'm not so lucky. My TicTac container carrying approximately fourteen hundred citrus-flavored treats goes flying. I reach for it in what feels like slow-motion, crying "Nooooo!" and grasping nothing but air. TicTacs arc toward the ceiling, clatter off the plastic panels, and rain down on my teammates like confetti.

Over the intercom, the pilot's voice is almost lost to the clatter of TicTacs and the grumbles of my teammates. "Sorry, ladies and gentlemen, but we've hit a bit of turbulence. Please return to your seats—"

" Mon Dieu !" I wail. "My little orange amis !"

"The fuck, dude?" Briggs stumbles through the aisle, his feet skidding on candies. "It's raining TicTacs!"

"How are there so many?" Anders asks.

"It's Latham's fault," I explain.

Latham throws himself down and buckles himself in. "How?"

One of the flight attendants comes out to check on us and almost wipes out on my lost bounty. Anders catches her before she hits the floor, but that does nothing to improve her mood. She jabs a finger at the mess and glares at me. "Sebastian Leclerc, this is a safety hazard!"

I shrink back in my seat. "I didn't mean to. It was an accident. Why would I waste them when I could have eaten them instead?"

She glowers at me and retreats to the front of the plane.

Each time the plane swerves and banks, there comes a tap-tap-tap-tap-tap from beneath our seats, like raindrops on a metal roof. They clatter to one side, then the other, then back again. Any hope I have of rescuing the survivors is squashed when Julie fishes the empty novelty box from beneath her seat and hands it to me without comment.

Eventually, the turbulence clears, and we can start cleaning them up. Despite our best efforts, they continue to show up in the most unlikely places throughout the flight: inside shoes, in cup holders, even in the beverage cart.

As the plane lands, Ranger frowns and tips his head to one side. "Why is there a TicTac in my ear? How is there—?"

"Perhaps you mistook it for an earplug, mon ami ." I try to laugh off the tragedy, but I am now officially TicTacless for the duration of this trip. I'm already going into withdrawals.

And as much as I miss my comfort snack, I miss Sage even more. Coop's right. We need to talk.

I can't lose her. Not if our relationship stands a TicTac's chance in hell…

* * *

The puck drops, and instantly, the game's intensity hits a boiling point. We're up against New York tonight, and these guys play a tough, gritty style that could grind down even the most seasoned lines. But tonight, it feels different. I'm on edge, desperate—not just to win but to prove something to myself. Maybe it's because every time I glance at the stands, I imagine Sage cheering or walking away for good. It's messing with my head.

First period, and I'm already hitting the ice harder than usual, my skates slicing through with a precision I didn't know I had queued up for tonight. Each pass, each check, feels like I'm pushing back against the gnawing fear of losing her. The fear that she'll just be another beautiful, heartbreaking memory in a life that's already too full of them. I steal the puck from an opposing winger, feeling a surge of something fierce. Anger? Determination?

My head is such a jumbled mess it's hard to tell.

"Let's move!" I shout to Briggs as I pass him the puck, watching him take it down the ice. We're a well-oiled machine, but tonight, the fire in me is burning hotter, fiercer. I can almost feel Sage's eyes on me from home, or maybe that's just wishful thinking—a hope that she can see how much this all means, how much she means. But then I snap back, remembering she might not even have the game on the TV. She didn't tell me she'd watch. And why would she? The thought fuels a bitter drive in me.

Second period, we're down by one. The desperation isn't just in my head now; it's in every shift, every face-off. I can see it in my teammates' eyes too—they know what this game means to me, though they don't know why. Not really. They can't know that every moment on this ice feels like a countdown to something inevitable and painful off it.

I catch a pass from Ollie on defense and break away. My legs pump, my lungs burn with the cold air, and my heart hammers—not just from the game but from everything that's on the line. I dodge a New York defenseman, deke left, and take my shot. The puck slams into the back of the net, and the sound is like a sweet crack of thunder in a clear sky. For a moment, everything else falls away—the worry, the heartache, all of it. There's just the game and the thin hope that maybe, just maybe, if I can win here, I can win Sage over, too.

By the third period, we're tied. The game could go either way and so could my life. I feel that now more than ever as I block out the roar of the crowd, focusing only on the ice beneath my skates and the play in front of me. When the puck finds me again, I don't hesitate. Channeling everything—every shred of fear, every fragment of desire—I drive it home. Another goal. This one feels even better, more decisive.

As the final buzzer sounds, and we claim the victory, my teammates swarm me, their cheers loud in my ears. But it's a hollow victory somehow. I skate off the ice, the cheers of the crowd echoing like distant thunder, and all I can think about is her. Did she see the game? Does she know what I'm fighting for? Does she understand that every second out here, every play, every moment I'm fighting for us too? For a future that might never be?

I need to go home, need to tell her everything. But first, I must catch my breath and steady my heart. Because tonight, I didn't just play for the win. I played for a reason far more personal, far more desperate.

* * *

That night, at the hotel, I get a text from Sage. It's three little words, although not necessarily the words I most want to hear from her.

I have news.

Rather than text back, I FaceTime her and settle down on the edge of the bed for a few minutes.

"Well, howdy, bigshot!" Sage's grinning face fills the screen even as her voice fills me with a warmth that even a win couldn't stoke. "I saw the game. Two goals? That's dadgum amazing! How are you feeling?"

"The game was good, but there was a TicTac tragedy." I tell her the story, and Sage cackles throughout. I love hearing her laugh. It's not sultry or sexy, but it comes from her gut. It's a laugh you can't fake, and the sound is enough to make me laugh, too.

Oh, dear. I think I have three words I want to say to Sage, but not now. Not through a screen. Not when I've just identified how much telling her will mean to both of us.

"So what is your good news?" I ask.

"Right!" Sage snaps her fingers and winks at me. "Emil called. The van will be ready soon."

"Oh." My first reaction is not one of joy. How could it be? But Sage is happy, so I try to be happy for her. "That's exciting. Although… just because the van is ready, it doesn't mean you have to leave right away."

Sage doesn't miss a beat. "I won't. I'm in the middle of a project with Molly. I can't just ditch her with this honey-do list item left seventy-five percent of the way done."

"Of course not!" I say. This time, my smile is huge. How could it not be? The longer she remains in Vegas, the more time I have to convince her to stay for good.

Or, barring that, to find a way we can keep each other without giving up everything else we care about.