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“Andrew Connoly, your star right-winger in high school,” I say softly.
At that, Dad gives me a long stare.
Unlike my brother Dan, he was more or less okay with Andrew’s interest in me. However, he expected him to take certain responsibilities with me, like actually asking me if I could be his girlfriend instead of just circling around it.
So did I, dad.
So did I.
Chapter Three
ANDREW
Emily has a kid?
I still am trying to wrap my head around that.
I feel like a horrible person for not even knowing.
She’s right. I got caught up in my NHL lifestyle and forgot about everyone I left behind.
Seeing her again confirms I still care for her. All I want to do is spend time with her and catch up, but she isn’t interested in doing so.
I can’t believe she is a mom now. She looks the exact same to me as she did…
When I left six years ago and never looked back.
I clench my jaw and try to ignore the pangs of regret searing through me.
It’s my first day of training, and the team’s management decided to make it open to the public.
Dan texted me earlier and asked if I could hook him up with good seats. I pulled some strings to have him and his dad sit right behind the players’ box before going onto the ice to get to know my new teammates better.
However, the fact that the two men most opposed to Emily and me are here doesn’t help my concentration. Neither does the fact that Emily doesn’t want anything to do with me.
The first thing that happens during training is the left defenseman hits me with a puck to the head.
Coach Hanson starts with agility and speed exercises. The sharp scrape of blades echoing across the rink as we dart between cones with lightning speed. Everybody takes part, but I know he has his eyes on me.
As I glide across the ice, a faint twinge flares up in my right shoulder. It reminds me of past injuries that almost put me out of the game before, like when I tore my right rotator cuff a little over four years ago.
To this day, my right shoulder acts up, but I’m still here. Although the truth is that I already feel like an old man and I’m only twenty-seven.
I get a compliment from Coach, and then he divides us into two mixed teams. I’m on the same team as the big shot, Chris Brooks, the starting center and current captain of the Razorhawks.
We line up on the ice, each team positioned on one side of the rink. Chris nods to me, trying to be friendly. “How’s it going, Billion Dollar Baby?”
“Doing fine. The guys are great.” I talk assertively, ignoring the joke in favor of my dignity.
“Yeah, you haven’t fallen on Coach Hanson’s bad side yet,” he jokes, but I hear the underlying warning there.
“I pray that I never will,” I mutter and throw my hands in the air.
“Just keep on playing the way you are, and you’ll be fine.”
The coach approaches us with an angry grimace. “Anything the two of you wanna share?”
“No, Coach. I was just giving the newbie some tips,” Brooks says, tapping me on the back.
