15. Luke

Chapter 15

Luke

I feel like a desert. Too many drinks, too much sex, not enough hydration. But waking up next to Keke’s ass curved against me, I don't give a shit.

It feels like I crossed a line that I've been toeing for way too long. I'm not hungover and my head is clearer than it has been in a while, but I feel a bit unsettled. Keke came in like a bull in a China shop, knocking down walls I didn't even know I had built. She's not just another girl I’d forget in a month.

She’s something I’m not sure I’m ready to face yet.

I stretch, reaching my arms back until my spine cracks then glance around the room. A guy should make the girl breakfast after a hook up, right? It's not my usual move, but Keke isn't my usual girl, and definitely not just a hook up.

I grin as I think about her no-nonsense attitude and her ability to look right through my usual bullshit. She didn’t fall for any of it and for some twisted reason that makes me like her even more. I want to impress her.

How long has it been since I gave a shit about what someone thought of me?

She's giving me a shot to prove myself and I don’t want to blow it. She’s definitely guarded, as if she’s always expecting the worst. I want to be the guy who helps her drop that armor but I need to be smart about it. Patient. Keke isn’t someone you just storm into a romance with. She’s the type of woman you win over slowly and steadily.

Okay, so maybe last night wasn’t slow or steady. But last night wasn’t romance, either. I know she won’t go for the traditional stuff after she balked at the idea of me getting her flowers, so I have a feeling she prefers practical gifts over the typical girly shit.

I grab my gear and toss it into the back of my car, deciding to stick to the plan. No more screw ups. I'll keep my head down, stay professional, and make damn sure she sees me as the guy who can be trusted, not the hot head who can’t keep his name out of the press.

Stepping into the rink feels like sinking back into a lap of comfort. The chilly air, the sound of sticks clattering, pucks hitting against the boards. As much as I have been distracted by Keke, the rink always has a way of grounding me, pulling me back to what matters.

Lucas is going through drills on the ice. He may be fast and accurate but his movements are sharp, almost aggressive. He’s not here just for practice, he’s here to prove a point.

Now seems as good a time as any to try Keke's theory of making an enemy into a friend. I skate out onto the ice, watching him for a minute before calling out, “Nice shot kid, but if you lean into it a bit more, you might get a tighter angle. Something they can’t block.”

Lucas stops, the expression on his face somewhere between annoyance and amusement. “Now you're giving me pointers? What, you think I can't figure it out myself?”

I hold up my hands, trying to keep things light. “Just thought you might want to save yourself some energy. We're on the same team, remember?”

“For now.” The way he says it, as if the words taste bitter in his mouth, makes me bite back a laugh.

I know what’s happening here. He’s young, ambitious, and hungry to prove himself, but that doesn’t make the pompous little ass any easier to deal with.

“Look, I get it, you want to make a mark, but if we're gonna win games, you got to work with the rest of us. Why don't you let me show you around the city tonight? I know all the good spots. I could give you a sense of what you're working with around Atlanta.”

Lucas's eyes narrow, and for a second, I think he might actually take me up on it, but he shakes his head, glancing away. “No, thanks.”

With that, he skitters off, muttering something under his breath. I watch him go, half relieved he didn’t try to pick a fight. Was that progress? Maybe, but it was clear he’s not about to accept help. Not from me anyway.

Practice wraps up as usual, with the team filtering into the locker room, everyone's energy a mix of high spirits and low chatter. I’m stowing my gear when Sebastian comes over, his expression a little darker than usual.

He glances around, making sure we’re out of earshot and leans in. “Hey, you got a minute?”

“Yeah, what's up?”

“I overheard Coach talking with management this morning. They're talking trades. It's not just rumors anymore.”

A chill runs down my spine. I had told myself the rumors were nothing. The Russians usually have pretty good intel, but sometimes they like to make things bigger than they are. Exaggerating makes them feel like tough guys. Hearing Seb confirm it, though, turns my vague worry into a real fear.

“They mention any names?”

He shakes his head, keeping his eyes on the other guys to make sure they don’t overhear us. “Didn't catch specifics, but we both know the younger guys are what they're looking for. Lucas, he's good, hungry. Coach isn’t the kind of man to keep someone on for the sake of sentiment.”

The weight of his words settle over me. Atlanta has been my home for years, my whole world. I’ve put everything into this and given it my all. Hell, I even had our team logo tattooed on my body. To think I could officially be on the chopping block feels like the ground slipping out from underneath me.

Seb must have seen the concern on my face because he gives my shoulder a squeeze. “Just keep doing what you're doing, man. Don't give them a reason to doubt you.”

I force a smile and nod. He’s my closest friend on the team, and the guy has been through it all. He knows how this goes and seeing him worry is enough to make me feel like I’m skating on thin ice.

I head out and sit in my car, just staring at my gear for a while, letting the reality of the matter sink in.

Had I actually given it my all?

No. I had been coasting for a long time, thinking I could pull it together whenever I wanted. But now it feels like I’m racing against a clock I didn't know was counting down.

The drive home is quiet, the streets stretching in front of me as I replay Seb’s words over and over. Trades. Roster shifts. It’s the kind of talk every player dreads, but no one can escape. Hockey was a business more than it was a family, and if you weren't pulling your weight, you were replaceable. As simple as that.

I tighten my grip on the steering wheel feeling a mix of anger and fear settling in. This is my team, my life, and I’m not about to let some hotshot kid waltz in and take it from me.

As much as I want to place the blame on Lucas, a part of me knows I haven't exactly made it easy on myself. I’ve let things slide, gotten too comfortable. I’ve personally dragged the team's name through the mud. News anchors make snide comments on the regular about my dating life. And then there’s the car fire… I thought I had time to fix it all, to show Coach that I was still the guy they could count on.

And now there’s Keke.

I didn’t expect her to get under my skin the way she has, but somehow she's done it. She came in like a storm, bringing all her blunt honesty and sharp wit with it, and now she’s stuck in my mind like a splinter I can’t get out.

I don’t want to get her out.

I want her to see me at my best. Maybe it’s selfish, but I want her to know I’m not just a guy with a bad reputation and trail of mistakes. I can be more than that for her. I will be more than that for her.

As I pull in to my condo’s parking assignment, I make my decision. I’m not going to let this slip away. Not the team, not Keke, not any of it. I’m all in. No matter what it takes. When she texted me to meet her at the bar for dinner to go over the plan, I was excited. Something to lift my spirits after the day I’d had.

She’s already there when I arrive, sitting in a small table by the window, her phone in her hand. She looks up as I approach, flashing me a quick smile that makes my heart skip a beat. She’s dressed casually in jeans and a simple blouse unbuttoned enough to catch a glimpse of lace when she turns to wave the server down.

We go through the basics, reviewing the strategy she'd laid out, talking time and details. I’m doing my best to stay engaged, but it’s hard not to get distracted by the way she chews on the end of her pen and those occasional flashes of lace. Whenever she looks at me when she thinks I’m not paying attention, her expression could melt fire.

At one point she glances up, catching me watching her, and raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing, just thinking.”

“About the plan, right?”

“I swear I'm listening, Keke. I'm on my best behavior, I promise.”

“Sure you’re not just stealing glances down my top?”

“Maybe.”

She giggles and rolls her eyes, pulling up a picture on her phone to show me something. As we wrap up the meeting, she leans back, crossing her arms. “You're sure you can stick to this? No more slip ups?”

“Without a doubt.”

She gives me a small, approving nod, and for a moment I swear I saw something soften in her expression. Maybe I’m starting to get through to her.

Funny how a little bit of hope can make you supremely stupid.