Page 9 of Center Ice

“Yeah,” I say, glancing at the time. It’s mid-morning, and I know today’s the first day of training camp, but he’s not a rookie so he won’t have practice until tomorrow. He might be around. Of course, there’s every possibility that Jameson is with him. My brother is the agent for about a third of the Boston Rebels. But thinking Jameson might be with him isn’t really why I’m avoiding the call. I’m putting it off because I’m so torn about how I’m feeling—I’m nervous, but also upset with myself about that because why does he make me feel this way after all these years?

“I have to head to the house in Wellesley,” Jules says with an eye roll. The house is a bit of an inside joke because she’s pretty convinced that the newly married couple we are renovating it for is going to wind up divorced before it’s done. Renovations are seriously stressful. “Do you want me to wait until after you’ve called him?”

“No, go ahead. I’ll let you know how the conversation goes.” I don’t know what I’m going to say, but it’s probably better that I talk to Drew privately, even if I am going to end up telling Jules everything afterward.

“Alright.” Jules picks up a few of her things that are laying around. “Call me if you need anything at all.”

“I will,” I tell her. “And I’ll get these revisions to the Livingston project done today so you have time to go over those with them one more time before you head to Maine this weekend.”

“Thanks,” she says as she heads upstairs into our house to grab her keys.

I stare at my phone for a few moments, knowing that once I make this call, things will change. How drastically, I have no idea. But Drew knowing about Graham is going to change things, for sure.

Chapter Five

DREW

“Ihate this part,” Zach Reid, the other new player for the Rebels, says as we sit in Alessandra Jones’s office, waiting for our meeting with the team’s general manager. He’s a couple of years younger than I am and was traded from Philadelphia.

“What part?”

“Starting over. This is only the second team I’ve played for.”

I know this about him because I’ve made sure I know everything there is to know about everyone I’ll be playing with this year. Easier to avoid missteps this way.

“Starting over sucks,” I agree. “But it’s also an opportunity.”

“True,” he says with a nod. “What do you think she’s like?”

“AJ? She’s like any other GM—a hard-ass, but only because she’s committed to doing what’s best for her team.”

“That’s the fairest assessment I’ve ever heard.” AJ’s voice comes from behind me, and I thank God that she sounds pleased with my assessment. We’ve had a few conversations leading up to my trade, and I already feel like I know her better than any other GM I’ve played for.

Zach and I both stand as AJ sweeps into the room, followed by our team captain, Ronan McCabe, one of the alternate captains, Patrick Walsh, and our goalie, Colt.

We all shake hands and do some brief introductions, and then we’re dragging our chairs away from her desk and toward the seating area near the full wall of glass that overlooks the practice facility. AJ and Patrick sit on the cream couch against the glass while McCabe and Colt each take the cushioned armchairs on either side of the coffee table.

Before he sits, McCabe grumbles about the throw pillow on the chair, and ultimately sets it on the coffee table so it doesn’t get in the way of his huge frame, which fills every inch of the seat. AJ’s office is surprisingly feminine for someone who’s staked her reputation in hockey as a total ball buster, and it feels like McCabe takes offense to the soft frills.

“We wanted to meet with you both while the rookies are practicing,” AJ says, ignoring McCabe, “because you each come with significant experience and a little baggage.” She glances at me, then at Zach. “It seemed like a good idea to chat about the culture of the club we’ve built here?—”

Ronan clears his throat, and we all turn toward him. “I think AJ just wants to make sure you’re not going to be dicks.”

It’s amusing to watch the effort it takes AJ not to roll her eyes. She looks over at Zach. “You have a reputation for avoiding fights,” she says, but that’s an oversimplification. Zach Reid doesn’t just avoid fights, he goads his opponent into losing his temper, but skates away before a fight can start. The mind games he plays on ice are both brilliant and infuriating—I know because I’ve fallen victim to them before when we played on opposing teams. “But I need to know that if we needed you to, you could step in and defend your teammates.”

“You don’t want me to fight,” Zach says. “Trust me.”

“Why?” Patrick Walsh asks. “You can’t throw a punch? Or you can’t take one?”

Zach presses his lips together between his teeth and says, “Quite the opposite.”

We all look at him, awaiting elaboration, but he says nothing else.

“So is that a yes?” AJ asks.

“If I need to defend someone, sure.” Zach shrugs.

AJ turns her gaze on me. “You, on the other hand, could benefit from a little restraint on the ice.”

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