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As if summoned by our conversation, Pippa appears in front of me with a folder in her hand and a frown.
And so, it begins…
“Pippa?”
“I’ve managed to reschedule your clinic in Oregon.”
“What?” My chest lightens as my lips pull into the smallest smile. I wasn’t expecting that.
“I’ve had it all cleared, so we can go this Tuesday and Wednesday. We’ll fly on Tuesday night, host the clinic Wednesday morning and fly home Wednesday night.” She’s direct and to the point. A lot more businesslike than she’d normally be.
“Okay.”
“Good. And we’ll have a film crew with us for some extra exposure.”
Goddammit. “Are you kidding me? Why?” I should have known there would be a catch. Pippa hasn’t spoken about the clinic at all since we got back to San Francisco.
“I’m not kidding. That was the trade-off.”
“Who asked who?”
“What?”
“Which one is the trade-off?” I’ll bet my life savings that Pippa was approached about increasing our profile ahead of the season opener, and the trade-off is my clinic.
“The clinic. It’s a team thing now. There’ll be a few players there.”
Great.I guarantee one of them is Ryan. I never had anything against the kid before all this started, but now, he’s getting on my nerves.
“Fine. I’ll be ready.” At least it brings me closer to Willow. I just have to decide what to do when I’m there.
Considering I have nothing going on in my life except hockey, the next few days strangely fly by, and before I know it, I’m sitting on the plane waiting for takeoff.
Ace sits down beside me, lifting his leg onto his knee as he leans back. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to traveling like this,” he says, presumably talking about our luxury seats. “I hear you're the one we have to thank for this little adventure,” he adds, making me huff out a laugh.
“Don’t thank me. I wanted to do this alone. And if it was up to me, I would be.”
“Well, thanks anyway. I’m looking forward to it. It’s nice to be able to give back. I still feel like an impostor here. Like any day now, the coach is going to call my name and tell me there’s been a mistake, and there’s another guy out there with the same name who’s really the guy they wanted.”
“With the name Ace Lockier?” I ask, suppressing a small smirk.
“Yeah.” He laughs. “You never know.”
Ace started with us three years ago, and last year was his first year on the playing roster and on my line. He’s an absolute gun. There is no way in hell they picked the wrong guy. At twenty-two, he’s already shaping up to be one of the best. But I guess it shows how much we all doubt ourselves.
“Ace, this may not mean much, but I can assure you, they got the right guy. You’re going places.”
Ace’s jaw drops to his chest as he stares at me in shock, his eyes boring into mine, unblinking.
“Ah…are you okay there, buddy?”
He shakes his head and chuckles to himself. “Yeah. Yeah. It’s just…since when do you offer compliments and reassurance? I’ve been your linemate for a year and the most you’ve said to me, outside of play, is hi. I mean, you’re nice enough to answer questions when asked. Sometimes you answer with a grunt but it’s still a response. This, however, is new.”
“What can I say; you caught me on a good day.”
“Nah, it’s more than that. You’re going soft in your old age.” I’m about to laugh but he jumps up and takes a step back, making me frown instead. “Just making sure you don’t deck me,” he says with his hands raised in the air.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m an asshole. I get it.”
