Page 98 of Need You to Choose Me

Alex guides us toward the rink where his teammates are scattered on the ice. They’re doing drills—a three-on-three corner drill by the looks of it. When we stop near the glass, only a few people seem to notice us.

One of them immediately starts walking over, and I know who it is before he even stops. “O’Conner,” Jesse Clarkson greets Alex. “Shouldn’t you be at home?”

“Shouldn’t you be on the ice?” Alex shoots back to his captain.

The captain doesn’t answer. He turns to me, holding out his hand. “Belle told me Alex had company.”

Company is a nice way of putting it. “I’m Olive Henderson.”

“Henderson,” he says, dipping his chin down in recognition. “Your brother is a hell of a player. I’ve been impressed since he signed on with the Rangers. Even though he blocked my winning shot last year at the Garden.”

I snicker. “Guess it wasn’t a winning shot then, was it?” I retort with a grin.

His lips pull up at the sides, stretching the scar I know he got playing against the Red Wings. “Tell him if he ever gets sick of the Rangers to come down here. I’m sure coach wouldn’t mind a new add on.”

As if Sebastian would ever do that. I nudge my elbow into Alex’s side. “I’m sure Alex would love playing with him again. Huh?”

Alex’s lips twitch downward. “It’d definitely bring up…memories.”

It’s not quite the reaction I’m expecting, so I lower my arm.

Alex doesn’t seem to want to talk about his former teammate, because he changes the subject. “Are you guys ready to play Montreal? I heard the predictions about their advancement this season.”

If his captain wonders why he’s switching gears, he doesn’t bring it up. So, I remain quiet as they talk amongst themselves.

Walking away from them to get a better view of the drill happening, I tune out the talk happening behind me and watch as the six players practice their passes.

I know two of them based on their numbers; seventeen and fifty-eight. Iassac Nelson and Thomas Moskins are fluid out there, just like they are during actual games.

For five minutes, I watch the two teams go back and forth as the coach makes the calls and directs them to switch up and approach from different positions. Most of it is smooth, like they’ve done hundreds of times before. But the newer playersare obviously not as fast, one of second stringers almost getting a puck to a very sensitive place that I can only hope has a cup covering it.

“All right,” Coach Pelfrey calls after blowing the whistle. “I’ve seen enough for today. Get your sorry asses off the ice and into the showers. I need you in good shape for our game on Friday.”

Clarkson walks over to me with Alex following close behind. “I don’t know if you’re planning on staying for long, but we’re going to Belle’s Place for something to drink later if you two want to join. I already extended the invite to Alex. He said it’s up to you. No pressure. Most of the guys will behave. The other ones you’re welcome to throw drinks at. Something tells me you can hold your own.”

I smile. “I’ve been told that before.”

“With a brother like yours, I’m not shocked.”

He nods once more before joining his team heading in the opposite direction to the locker rooms.

I turn to Alex. “Did you want to go? I can always stay at the apartment if you—”

“Why do you do that?” he cuts me off.

“Do what?”

“Act like I want to hide you?”

I wet my lips. “It’s not that I think you do. But they’re your teammates. And I don’t know if you’re close with any of them or want me around them. It wouldn’t hurt my feelings. Some people like separating their personal and professional lives. You said yourself they don’t really know much about you.”

Alex blinks slowly. “I brought you here,” he says pointedly. “Where my team is. I didn’t do that thinking they’d be gone, you know. Just because I don’t want them to know the details of my strenuous relationship with my mother doesn’t mean I don’t want them to know about you. Or us.”

“Sure…” I sigh. “I get that. But seeing them from a distance is very different than hanging out with them around a table. It’s personal.”

He doesn’t say anything for a long time. “If you’re not comfortable, we don’t have to go. But I don’t mind if we do. Hell, it might be easier with you there. I’m not any of their best friends. I get along fine with Clarkson, but that’s about it. You’ve always been more personable. It would make things easier for me.”

“That’s because I’m nice.”

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