AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I didn’t think about it,” I say. It’s another lie. “I’ve got more important things on my mind, like using nearly a year’s salary to start a restaurant, help figure out a menu, and everything else. Once the season starts, I won’t have to worry, but right now it’s kind of a big deal. Okay?”
Jake nods. “So you’re not going to surprise us and retire before next season starts to focus on this place?”
Ah. A bit of relief comes through me as I realize what Jake’s real concern was all along. He’s worried this business with the restaurant was a sign that I would be stepping away from hockey. Maybe he isn’t as tuned in with what’s really going on in my head as I was afraid of. “We’re good, Jake,” I say. “I want the cup as badly as the rest of you. Next season. The season after. I’m here until you assholes drag me away from the net.”
Jake eyes me for a long moment, then finally nods and sits back in his seat, relaxing a little. “Alright. Good. Good.”
I lay my head back, looking over the plane. It’s one of two private jets we’ve used all season. The team’s owner is filthy rich and likes to spoil us. The team logo is plastered all over the interior and bright blue lights make the cabin look like some kind of moody, expensive club. Music plays from the speakers and most of the team is still horsing around while we taxi for takeoff. Rookies ride in the back, team vets are up front, and the coaching staff are all on the other jet.
“Anything to drink, Sir?” The girl asking is young. I don’t recognize her, but her name badge says “Kiki.”
I casually run my eyes up and down her. Pretty face, a nice body. “Surprise me, Kiki,” I say. I give her the sort of look that I know she’ll see as an invitation. It’s almost a reflex, by now. It’s a game I’ve only really played the last two years, but it’s one I’ve already started to grow bored of.
Make eye contact. Use her name to show I bothered to read her name tag. Maybe find a reason to touch her, no matter how innocently. Nine times out of then, that’s all it takes. Most of the women I meet already know who I am. Nolan Saulters. Famous goalie of the Vermont Vandals.
It doesn’t hurt that girls have figured out they can wait at the bars near the rink after our games. Every night, there are more than enough women waiting for a chance to hook up with one of us that it’s practically shooting fish in a barrel.
Has it become boring? Sure. But when I need something to numb my mind, it does the job. It occupies the nights and keeps me from laying awake. It protects me from the sort of things I think about when it gets too quiet in my head.
“Surprise you?” Kiki says, blushing. “I think I could manage that, Nolan.” She practically purrs my name, popping her hip out subtly so it brushes my forearm as she walks to the back of the plane.
“You remember we’re heading straight to Frosty Harbor when we land, right?” Jake asks. “Your new friend is going to have to sit in your lap if you want to bring her. I’ve only got six seats in the rental. I mean, I guess you could find out if she’s desperate enough to lay on top of our bags in the trunk.”
I shake my head. “Just fucking around,” I say.
Jake leans closer, smiling out of one side of his mouth. “Maddox did say that one is wild in bed. I bet she’d have no problem sitting in your lap.”
I give Kiki another look over my shoulder as she waits for the bartender to mix my drink. I sit back and stare forward. I’ve been far from celibate these last two years. The guy who used to believe in taking things slow and looking for real love hasn’t been around lately. I know what most of my teammates think of it. They think I’m being self-destructive. Reckless. Maybe even heartless.
Who knows? They could be right. But there’s a kind of void in the center of my chest, and if I don’t throw something into it almost nightly, it feels like it could open up and swallow me whole.
Another flight attendant gives a safety demonstration. I tune it out and take the drink from Kiki, who makes sure her fingers brush mine.
I decide I’m not interested in sleeping with her. Honestly, the thought of playing the familiar game right now feels even emptier than usual. Maybe I’ll take a breather this offseason and give sleeping alone a try for a while.
I’ll have more to think about, anyway. Tomorrow morning, we’ve got the first round of interviews at Taste. I spoke casually to Jake about it, but the truth is my stomach is in my throat about the whole thing. The menu. The staff. The cash on the line. But it’s more than that… Having my own restaurant has always been a dream of mine for as long as I can remember. Hockey happened because I was always good at figuring out how to get people’s attention. For my dad, doing well on the ice was what worked. Cooking never mattered to him.
But the thought of having my own restaurant has never really left the back of my mind. I always imagined it more with myself behind the stove, but this may be all I can manage. It’ll have to be good enough.
Jesse is watching me sip my drink from across the aisle. He’s our top-scorer. Ever since he met Jake’s little sister, Andi, during his season off with an injury two years ago, he takes every chance he can get to go back to Frosty Harbor to spend time with her. Once the team heard I was opening my first restaurant in Frosty Harbor, the starters all insisted on coming along and staying in town with us. Out of all the guys, he was the most excited when he heard I was opening a restaurant in his hometown. Just one more excuse to go be with his wife.
“What?” I ask, glaring at him.
“Just wondering why you’re wallowing,” he says.
“I’m not wallowing.”
“Okay,” he says easily. He folds his arms, kicking one foot over his knee as he turns to face me. “Then you’re brooding. You like that better? Brooding is more respectable, after all. It’s less eating ice cream in your pajamas and more of an angry lifestyle punctuated by badass acts of rebellion. Trust me. I would know.”
I can’t help grinning a little. My teammates are like family. They get me in a way nobody else ever has, and I respect the hell out of all of them for it.
Jake decides to join in. “Already tried to dig it out of him, Jesse. Nolan’s got his lips sealed tighter than a clam’s ass during high tide.”
“Wow,” Carter says, turning to chime in from the seat in front of Jesse. “I didn’t know you were an expert on clam ass, Jake. Have you tried violating them before and this is your way of suggesting we wait for low tide?”
Jake tosses a balled up napkin at Carter, who bats it away with a smile. “You know, I think my sister knows a nice clam down in Maine. I could try to get you her number, if you’re interested. No promises that she’ll unclench her backside for you, though. But you could always wait for low tide. I heard somewhere that expert clam diddlers do that, at least.”
“We were in the middle of trying to interrogate Nolan,” Jesse says. “If you don’t mind holding off your fascination with the clam thing for later, that is.”
