Chapter Four

GRACE

I take a final look at my reflection in the mirror. My hair is neatly pinned up and my makeup is subtle yet flattering. After spending the morning unpacking and ordering groceries, I now have barely five minutes to grab my things and rush out of the apartment so that I’m not late for work.

As I reach for the door handle, my phone buzzes once more on the table nearby. It’s Skyler again.

Remember what I said… Loosen up! And call me later xx .

Grinning, I tuck my phone into my purse, grab my camera bag with my Fujifilm X-S20, and head out the door. The arena is only about 10 minutes away, and I planned to take a cab, but I make my way down to the parking garage first. Carson texted me earlier this morning, telling me he had a surprise for me down there. If it’s what I think it is, I won't need a cab.

Just as I thought, sitting in my apartment’s parking spot is a new car — a sleek black BMW X5. I let out a low whistle.

“What the hell are you thinking, Carson?” I murmur. I spot a folded piece of paper tucked beneath one of the windshield wipers. Grabbing it, I unfold it and immediately recognize my brother’s scratchy handwriting.

Gotta get from A to B! Consider it a perk of the job. Check under the front tire on the driver’s side. See you at practice!

Carson

Rolling my eyes, I chuckle and shake my head. Tucking the note into my purse, I squat down and feel around the front tire until I find a key fob hidden out of sight. I unlock the car, climb behind the wheel, and pull out of my parking spot. I can’t help grinning as I drive out into traffic and head for the arena.

Driving a BMW is a different level of excitement than my beat-up old Toyota back home. At least now I know why Carson encouraged me to leave that behind and have dad sell it. The BMW feels powerful and commanding, the purring of the engine making my heart race. The cityscape rushes past me in flashes of color as I speed down the street, and for a moment, I feel blissfully free.

As the arena looms closer, I shake off the exhilaration and put my game face on. I know I’m going to have to have my wits about me when I’m around the team. I’m not going to give any of these knuckleheads an opening to try and flirt with me. I’m going to keep things cool, calm, collected, and professional. Reaching the arena, I pull into an available spot near the entrance and grab my camera equipment from the backseat.

Walking into the arena is a little surreal. I go in through the employee-only doors and have to check in with security. They give me a badge that I’ll be able to use to swipe in and out from now on so I don’t have to go through the lengthy security screening again. Then, I go through the metal detectors and am directed to the rink.

A shiver runs down my spine as I walk into the main rink. It’s empty except for a few members of the team’s support staff, who are getting things set up for the practice. I pause and gaze through the protective glass separating the stands from the rink and wonder, not for the first time, if this is a good idea. I never expected to be back in this world. After what happened to my friend Stacey, I swore off all things hockey. An unfortunate consequence of this decision was that it put distance between me and Carson, since hockey is his life.

Sighing, I shake off my lingering reservations and hurry to set up my equipment before the team takes the ice. I want to get some full-court video that I can use to get Carson’s online followers hyped for the season, so I’m shooting from the stands. From there, I’ll get some close-up video and stills of Carson himself. Eventually, I’ll also want some posed shots of him both in and out of his hockey gear.

Once I have my camera ready to go, I check my phone's emails while I wait for the team. There’s a message from Carson’s publicist, Tanya, who I’ve been in contact with since he offered me the job. She wants to set up a meeting, just to the two of us, to go over our media strategy for the next few months. I look up when I hear a commotion, as the players come streaming out onto the ice. Leaning in towards the rink’s wall, I watch as they get into formation and start their warmups. My eyes land on Carson, who’s getting set up in front of the goal. It’s a little weird seeing him in that position. He most often played left wing when we were growing up, but he started playing goalie more and more once he got to college, and that’s what the Night Hawks recruited him for.

With practice starting, I grab my camera and start recording. I keep the shot wide, taking in the whole team before focusing on Carson. He stops nearly every puck that’s shot at him, catching and slapping them down left and right. I can’t help the small smile that curls my lips. As much as I hate the sport itself, I love how good Carson is at it. It makes me proud to watch him, especially since he’s really just a rookie.

As I’m recording and trying to focus on Carson, another player catches my eye. The center is tearing it up on the ice, moving with such confidence and playing with such aggressiveness that it’s like he was born to play this game.

I squint at the back of his jersey, barely making out the number 11 and the name emblazoned above it — Reece. He's a whirlwind on the ice; even amongst the seasoned professionals, he stands out, his skill and raw talent evident in his every move. He executes a swift pass that lands perfectly at a teammate's feet. The puck is quickly passed back to him before he neatly nudges the puck past Carson and into the goal.

I watch as he skates over to Carson, exchanging a few words that make my brother laugh. Suddenly aware that I've been filming Reece rather than Carson for longer than intended, embarrassment washes over me and I swing my camera back towards my brother. However, my eyes are drawn inexplicably to Reece every time he makes a play or cracks a joke that has his teammates roaring with laughter. I can’t really see his face because of his gear, but he’s tall and his strength is obvious.

Practice ends sooner than I expected, and the players start to file off the ice. I find myself lingering behind, packing away my equipment.

"Hey!" a voice yells out. Turning around, I see Carson skating toward me, looking exhausted but happy. He waves me closer and I make my way down to the team bench. “How’d you like your first practice?”

I give him an exasperated smile.

“It’s not my practice,” I insist. “But, it was good. You were pretty impressive out there. The only person who seemed able to get anything past you was the center.”

Carson chuckles and nods. “Yeah, that’s Reece. I’ve told you about him, haven’t I?”

I think a moment and then nod. “Yeah, you have. Best friend from college, right? He was a year ahead of you?”

“Yep, that’s him. Let me introduce you guys!”

“Oh, Carson, that’s okay…”

Before I can finish protesting, though, Carson has turned and begun waving at his teammate, who’s on the other side of the rink. Reece sees him and waves back before pushing off the wall and skating toward us. My heart pounds as he gets close. There’s something about him… I just can’t seem to tear my gaze away…

Before he gets to us, he reaches up and removes his helmet. The whole world comes to a screeching halt. No, this isn’t possible. There’s no way in hell…

And yet, I’d never forget those burning green eyes or that stubborn, chiseled jaw, although the close-trimmed beard is new.

It’s Jensen.

My Jensen.

He’s older and more rugged. Impossibly more handsome than I remember. I see his eyes widen in shock when he recognizes me and my stomach drops to the floor. Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit. My brother’s best friend is the man I lost my virginity to. The man I haven’t been able to stop thinking about over the past four years.

As he comes to a stop next to my grinning, oblivious brother, I can only stare at him dumbstruck. Judging by his facial expression, he’s clearly as stunned as I am. His eyes widen and his jaw drops.

What the hell am I supposed to do now?