AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“It’s fine.” Another awkward pause.
Does he want to stay for a few months because he’s lonely? Fuck. The thought breaks my heart, and it’s on the tip of my tongue to agree, but this year needs to be different.
Ward made me captain, and I want to make him proud without my dad’s voice in my ear, in my head, telling me how to be. Hanging with the guys at the bar after games? When my dad’s in town, that’s not happening.
And spending time with Hazel? He’d never approve.
“It’s not a good time,” I tell my dad, swallowing past a thick throat. “I, uh. I’m still getting settled into the team.”
“You need someone pushing you, Rory.”
He’s pushed me my entire life, but it’s not working anymore. I don’t feel the same burning desire to be the best like I used to, because no matter what I do, the goal posts always move. How do I tell him that, though? He’d never understand.
“Now that you’re captain, you’re a playmaker,” he continues. “This is the perfect opportunity to look good.”
My gut churns at the idea of choosing plays that benefit me. I make a quick excuse that we’re taking off and hang up, and a second later, Streicher drops into the seat beside me.
“Hey, buddy.” My mood lightens. “Ready for Columbus?”
Their goaltending is shit, but their offense is strong. He’s going to be fielding shots all game.
“I’m ready.” He pulls out his phone. His background is a picture of Pippa and Daisy, their dog.
I wonder if Hazel ever wants a dog. She and Pippa take Daisy on walks in the trails around Vancouver all the time.
McKinnon steps onto the plane, and as he passes, his bag shoves against Streicher’s shoulder with enough force that a normal person would apologize. Instead, McKinnon just keeps walking.
Streicher’s hand tenses and he gives me a sidelong glance. “Heard you’re rooming together.”
Sometimes, the coaches make guys share hotel rooms on the road. “I asked Ward if I could room with you, but he said no. I don’t know whether it’s a curse because I have to see his fucking face when I wake up, or a blessing because I get to fuck with him.”
Streicher snorts. “He was pissed the other night, seeing you and Hazel.”
I smile, remembering his expression at the game after I made Hartley give me a kiss through the glass. My grin drops at the image of her in the hallway. Her shoulders were up to her ears while he loomed over her.
That fucking prick. My mind flicks to what I packed in my bag after I found out McKinnon and I are rooming together, and excitement weaves through me.
I can’t wait to fuck with him.
“So, this thing with Hazel,” Jamie says.
Anxiety clenches behind my sternum. We’re on better terms these days, but I still ditched the guy the second we got drafted. I was still a fucking asshole for all the years between then and now. Images of our fight last year on the ice replay in my head—the wet thud of his fist hitting my cheekbone, the blood dripping from his split lip.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to give me the oldhurt her and diething, Streicher.”
The last players file onto the plane, taking their seats. “I know you won’t.”
An image flits into my head of the four of us—Jamie, Pippa, Hazel, and me. We’re at a barbecue, hanging out. Pippa’s curled up against Jamie, and Hazel’s tucked into my side. I loop my arm around her shoulder, and she smiles up at me.
“Do you know what you’re doing?”
“About faking it?” I ask, keeping my voice low, and he nods.
I frown, glancing out the window as an ugly feeling surges in my gut. She thinks it’s fake. What if January comes and she still doesn’t want anything real? I’m Rick Miller’s son, after all. His carbon copy. Women get to know my dad, and soon enough, they’re packing their bags.
“Of course,” I answer, clearing my throat and shifting in my seat.
That old competitive focus that’s been driving me my entire life flows through me. I wasn’t lying when I told Hartley that I always bet on myself.
