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I lift myself out and grab my towel, wiping my face and hair.

“You were playing hard,” Simon says, laughing.

“We have to let our inner child out every so often,” I say.

“There’s truth to that statement.” He looks around. “It’s a good day. I think it’s going to be a good season.”

“I hope so.” I look around too.

I’ve only been here since March, but most of the other guys were here for all of last season. The Atlanta Thunder is an expansion team, and the fact that we won the whole damn championship in our inaugural season is unheard of. No one’s ever done it before, and despite how exciting it was, we got dragged through mud online. The sports pundits had so much to say about the salary cap, beginner’s luck, insinuating that the team owner had some back door deal with the NHL.

Frankly, it was insulting.

We played hard. Even before I got traded here, I watched them and knew they had something special. The first couple of months were rough, but that was because of Coach Morrison. Once Coach Teller was brought in, everything changed. You could see it in the way they played and the moment I got here, I felt it in the locker room.

The team cares about each other. Everyone is friendly. Families spend time together. Hell, West and Serena got married in April but the last of his roommates didn’t move out until late August. Bodi, Jayne, and Lindy lived with them for months as they waited for their new house to be completed. Even the single guys have a sense of family here.

I’ve never experienced anything like it, and this will be my eighth season in the NHL. I played two years in the minors and then never looked back. I’m proud to have been part of a championship team and that’s why it’s so important we show the hockey world that it wasn’t a fluke. That we really are good. That we deserved it.

I grab a burger from a table that’s laid out with so much food I don’t know who’s going to eat it all, and then sit on a lounge chair to dry off in the sun. I grab my sunglasses and baseball cap, enjoying my burger.

“Beer?” Blaze asks me, holding one out. “I can’t have one but you look like you could use one.”

“Thanks.” I take it from him with a nod. “Having a good time?”

“Not as good as you,” he says with a laugh.

“Aw, the kids are fun.”

Felix and Ashton gave Simon the green light to invite Blaze to live with us, and he moved in last weekend. It’s only been a week, but so far there haven’t been any issues. Honestly, he keeps to himself a lot. He’s only nineteen, so not old enough to go to bars, and mostly I’ve seen him in the pool during the day. It’s hot as balls here, so it makes sense. We’ve all started working out together too, which is nice, but I don’t know him well enough to make any judgments yet.

“Looks like most everybody is having fun,” he says, but there’s something in his tone that makes me look up.

“Everything okay?” I ask quietly. I don’t want to embarrass him, but Simon and I made an unofficial decision to see if we can help him rebuild his reputation—and some trust—with the guys on the team. Everyone that was here for Coach Morrison’s bullshit is wary, and though they treat him professionally and kindly on the ice, it’s obvious he doesn’t have a lot of friends off the ice.

“Yeah. Cool. Other than the kids, I’m the youngest guy here. No date. No one to hang with. I’m the only guy on the team not old enough to drink.”

“Yeah, I know that’s rough. But you can drink at the house.”

He shrugs. “It’s not a big thing. Drinking.”

“It’s going to take time,” I say quietly. “They remember the Blaze from the start of the season, and no one likes a snitch. You’ll have to win them over, and it won’t happen automatically.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Have you ever considered just…telling people what really happened?”

His eyes widen and he shakes his head. “No. Fuck no. There’s no one else in the league that’s…” His voice drops to a whisper. “…out. And I’m not going to be the first. Even if it means letting them believe the worst about me.”

I nod. It’s not my job or place to reveal his secrets, but at the same time, he’s struggling. Maybe not on the ice—he was a beast during the championship—but I’ve seen bits and pieces of it at home.

“Patience, kid,” I say gently. “It’ll come. You have to show them the man you want to be. Words don’t mean shit in these scenarios—it’s all about how you behave.”

He nods. “I know. I’m trying.”

“You could’ve gotten in the pool, played with the kids. If kids like you, everyone else tends to follow.”

He gazes over at where Simone is laughing with Jayne, and winces. “I don’t know anything about girls that age.”