Page 117 of The Closed Off Captain

I laugh. “Yeah, it has nothing to do with the fact that you guys are at the top of your game.”

“Yeah, we are!” somebody shouts. I’m not even sure who.

“What’s our chance this year?” Zac asks.

“Yeah, we haven’t asked yet,” Sebastian adds.

I smile to myself. Every year, they ask me what I think their odds are at winning The Cup. “I tell you guys every year. It doesn’t matter what I think.”

“Yes, it does,” Sebastian argues.

“Yeah, you know more about hockey than most sportscasters,” Dylan says loudly. I don’t argue with him.

“So, what’s our shot this year?” Rico asks, invested now in the conversation. They all are. They ask me every year, more frequently the closer it gets to playoffs.

I sit back against the couch. “Well, first of all, thank you for my gift. That was way too much. I really appreciate it.”

“Boring!” One of the guys shouts, earning a laugh all around.

“All right. Fine. You want to know what I think your chance is this year?” There are nods all around. I let my gaze wander around the room a moment. It gets pretty quiet as they wait, and I don’t know how we even got to this point. “You guys always take my prediction so seriously.”

“Because you’re always right,” Sebastian says.

I meet Gunner’s eyes. He watches me as he waits along with everybody else. “Quit stalling,” Rico says.

“All right. Okay, this is my prediction for this year.” I meet each of their eyes again; it’s completely quiet. “I think you guys will go all the way this year.” Nobody makes a sound. I raise my eyebrows. “I’m serious, Guys. I think this is your year.”

“You’re not messing with us?” Zac asks.

“Or just being nice because we got you a present?” Seb asks.

I laugh. “I’m serious. This is your year.” I meet Gunner’s eyes. He doesn’t smile, but there’s a light to his eyes. Sebastian whoops first, and then the room goes wild. Gunner pulls me close.

“Really?”

I smile and nod. “Yeah. It’s time.”

He stares down at me, completely serious. I know that face. It’s his captain’s face, the one he makes before he goes out onto the ice, the one he makes when he closes off the world around him because he knows he has a job to do. He nods once, and I can’t help putting my hand on his thigh. The guys are celebrating, as if they’ve already won. Gunner’s not, though. He’s serious, contemplative. He knows I’ve never been wrong in my prediction for this team. For four years straight, I’ve called how I think they will finish the season. And for four years straight, I’ve been pretty dead-on.

Gunner and I say our goodbyes soon after that and head out into the snow. Thankfully, Gunner’s truck is great in the snow. We're both quiet for the first few minutes. After a little bit, I put my hand on his bicep. “Thank you for tonight. I still can’t believe you all pulled that off.”

He puts his left hand on top of mine. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. You deserved it.”

“Well, I don’t know about that, but thank you.”

“You really are a major asset to our team, you know.” I can’t help but smile at his words. “And you’re a really good person.”

“Stop. I’m blushing,” I tease.

“I’m serious. Every person in that room tonight loves you, and we all appreciate everything you do.”

Coming from the guy who doesn’t speak a whole lot, that means an awful lot. “Thank you, Gunner.”

He pulls into the garage, so we don’t have to walk in the snow. We grab our bags and head inside. “I don’t know how you’re still hanging in there; you have to be exhausted.” He just smiles at me. I take off my boots and coat and put them in the entryway closet. “What time are you heading over tomorrow morning?”

“I can go whenever you need to go in. I don’t have to be there until ten.”

“Okay. The latest I can go in is eight; I have too much to do.”

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