Page 158 of Love, Rekindled

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to see her on the floor, performing just another duty of her incredibly busy and challenging life: mom. I know she and her husband—former Cold Fury goalie Ryker Evans—had the baby about eleven months ago.

Gray looks up and grins at me, a toothy welcome that’s also wholly unapologetic. She’s not sorry that she’s on the floor with her kid rather than greeting me with a handshake. “Hey, Rafe. Come on in.”

I step past the receptionist, who backs out but leaves the door open.

“Sorry about this.” Gray waves at herself and her baby—a little boy who smiles up at me, all gums and drool. “Ryker is swinging by to pick Milo up, but he’s running a few minutes late.”

“No worries,” I reply with an easy smile, clasping my hands in front of me, unsure of what I should do. I think this meeting is just a formality, although Gray and I have talked on the phone twice since I approached Dominik Carlson with my request to come to the Cold Fury.

There’s a knock on the open door behind me, and I turn to see Alex Crossman walk in.

Alex is the captain of the team, one of the finest players in the league, and heads up the first line as the center. It’s the same position I play, except on the second line.

“I was just walking by,” Alex explains as he sticks his hand out to me. “Saw you in here and thought I’d officially welcome you to the team.”

I shake his hand, and he gives mine a hearty pump. “Good to see you,” I tell him.

I’ve met Alex on a few occasions at public events, and he’s always been gracious. I’m excited to play under his leadership.

“Alex,” Gray says, pulling Milo onto her lap. “Ryker’s coming by to pick up the rug rat, but he’s running late. Do you mind taking Rafe down to the locker room and showing him around? I’ll be down later.”

“Not at all,” Alex replies easily and turns for the door. “Just headed there myself.”

This isn’t unexpected. We have a team skate in about half an hour, which will be just a light workout since there’s a game tonight. The Cold Fury is taking on the Toronto Blazers tonight in the second game of the first round of the playoffs. The Cold Fury already took game one the day before last. While I won’t be playing in tonight’s game, Iwillbe skating with the team to get my feet wet. Gray told me they expect me to head up the second line for game three in two days’ time.

Today is more about meeting my teammates and establishing some chemistry with the rest of the guys on the second line.

“It was great meeting you, Gray,” I tell her with an incline of my head that speaks to my gratitude. “I can’t thank you enough for doing this.”

Her face softens, and she pulls Milo in a little closer to her chest. “We’re glad to have you. I hate the circumstances that brought you to the team, but we’re all here to support you. That being said, we think you’re a great addition, and will be of great benefit to us.”

That’s overly kind of her to say. It’s going to be a bit of a transition for them to get used to me and my style of play. While Kane Bellan and I were a pretty even trade, there are slight differences. It’s going to be a hindrance to the second line until we can gel—something that could happen within the first game, or several after.

Alex and I leave the executive suite. In the elevator heading down to the basement level that houses the locker room, he makes the overture that I’m sure I will get a lot today. “I’m really sorry to hear about your dad.”

“Thanks,” I reply with a smile I don’t feel. “I appreciate it.”

He studies me for a moment, a bit of calculation in his eyes. “Listen...I don’t need to tell you that every player needs to play at an optimum level since we’re in the playoffs. I also don’t need to tell you that you’ve got some tough times ahead of you with your dad. If, at any time, your head isn’t in the game the way it should be, I just need you to let us know. We’ve all got your back. You may be new to the team, but you are a brother to us now. If you need to take a step back, not one man on this team will ever begrudge you for taking the time you need for yourself and your family.”

That was way more than I expected, and it touches me. He doesn’t need to make those assurances. In fact, he has every right to be tough with me...acknowledging my shitty circumstances but making expectations clear—that I should be performing at peak level, no matter what.

“Thanks man… I really appreciate it,” I say and he responds by clapping me on the shoulder.

The locker room is noisy and bustling. All of the players are in front of their wooden cubbies in various states of undress. The mood is jubilant, with a lot of laughing and joking going on. It reminds me of the Vengeance locker room, and I have a moment of intense longing for my old team.

Alex leads me over to my space, stopping along the way to do quick introductions. I already know many of my teammates, either from having played with them or against them, even dating back to my junior hockey days.

My cubby is open-faced, made of solid stained wood with an etched plaque that readsR. Simmonsat the top. The equipment manager has been diligent. There’s a practice uniform, the requisite pads, skates, and even my preferred brand of sticks waiting to be taped—which is something players usually do themselves.

A guy that I immediately recognize but have never had the opportunity to meet before is at his cubby to my right. Tall, with dark hair and the weirdest-looking golden eyes I’ve ever seen, ones that probably make women swoon, he shoots me an easy smile and sticks out his hand for me to shake. But it’s Alex who makes the introduction. “Rafe... this is Zack Grantham. He’ll be your left-winger.”

We pump hands, and I tell him, “Hope I can fill Bellan’s place and do it justice.”

“I’m sure you can,” he replies with an affirming nod of his head. “Looking forward to getting out on the ice with you.”

Zack plops down on the bench that runs in front of our cubbies and starts to untie his shoelaces.

Another man approaches, and I recognize him as well. An icon, Garrett Samuelson is a first-line right-winger for the Cold Fury. He’s joined by one of the best goalies in the league, the lynchpin of this team, Max Fournier.

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