Page 4 of Unrivaled

“Nah, I know how it goes.” He gestures vaguely. “Besides, hard to eat nachos if you’ve got to take notes by hand.”

He has a point. And they’re very good nachos. I’d hate to miss out. I set my phone to record and reach for my list of prompt questions.

Except I never quite get to it. Before I can ask the first one, Lockhart’s phone pings. He’s cursing and apologizing and putting it on silent, but then he lights up a little. “Sorry, I’ll put this away in a second. Just, my sister sent me a picture of my dog and it’s super cute—want to see?”

I obviously want to see the dog. He’s got wavy brown fur and big brown eyes and a stub of a tail. In the picture, he’s holding a battered yellow doll shaped like a stick figure. His name is Gru, Lockhart—Max—tells me, but when I ask what kind of dog, he laughs.

“He’s a rescue. Someone asked me that once and I was like, ‘I don’t know. Brown?’ What, am I going to 23andMe my dog? He’s maybe part Lab, part cocker spaniel… part someone’s leg for all I know.”

Was that a Terry Pratchett reference, I wonder. But instead I take the opportunity to ask about his family. “So you have a sister—older or younger? Any other siblings?”

“A sister and a brother. Nora’s the youngest. She just graduated dentistry school in April, so that’s why she’s watching Gru. Nora couldn’t get off work, so she volunteered to dog-sit. Then there’s me, typical middle child. My older brother Logan’s married now—he totally married up—and he’s got two kids who fortunately take after his wife. My parents have always been super supportive, even though the three of us were hellions as kids. I’ve got a couple duds for aunts and uncles—no, I’m kidding. I have a big family, though. We’ll be here all night if I have to make fun of all of them.”

He says this with a gleam in his eyes that makes it hard to believe he harbors anything but love for these people, whatever his mouth might say.

I’ve thrown out my whole script at this point, but I need to get something that relates to hockey, so I ask him, “Sounds like your family, uh, shows their love in a certain way…?”

He laughs out loud. “We’re all a bunch of shit-disturbers.”

I reach for another chip. My margarita is almost empty. “So your role as, let’s say an agitator on the ice—that’s something that comes naturally to you?”

Max signals our server to bring another round. He grins again, then chomps down on a nacho. “God, yeah. We were always needling each other at home. You should’ve seen my brother’s face when my little sister called him the first pancake—you know, the one that comes out a little funky because the pan wasn’t hot enough yet. Never really expected that playground skill to come in so handy professionally, but I guess it translates.”

Considering he’s drawn a penalty nearly every game I’ve watched him in, I’d guess so too. “World Cup of Hockey games can be a little different from the regular season,” I say diplomatically. What I mean is, no one’s working that hard to sacrifice their body when they’ll be playing for their regular team in three weeks. “How is your role with Team Canada different from the one you play with the Monsters?”

“Well, I’m hoping not to get punched in the face as much. Maybe score a couple goals. It’s not every day you get to play with the country’s best, so I’m looking forward to rolling with that.”

Well, sure. Who wouldn’t?

Max and I are talking like we’ve been friends for years by the time we polish off the plate and the server brings the bill. “I know I said we’d go halfsies, but I definitely ate more of the nachos,” he says as he reaches for the folder.

Who is this guy? And can we get him traded to Toronto? “I’m expensing it anyway,” I tell him.

He grins and lets me get it. “Oh, well in that case.” It feels like we’re sharing a joke.

It remains to be seen if, when the regular season starts in a few weeks, the joke’s actually on me.

IF ANYONEasked what Grady thought about the NHL’s World Cup of Hockey gimmick, he’d lie.

It originated when the NHL decided players couldn’t go to the Olympics anymore—something they’d waffled on several times since. Instead they held the World Cup of Hockey, a glorified All-Star tournament, on top of the regular one, with a bunch of made-up teams like Team North America, with the Canadians and Americans who were under twenty-three, and Team Europe, because most of continental Europe couldn’t ice a competitive team alone. But you could never say you weren’t proud to wear your country’s flag, even if it was a meaningless tournament based on money and offered as a shitty consolation prize.

“Wow, Grades.” Jess slid his beer toward herself in their corner booth at the bar. “Tell me how you really feel.”

Grady scowled slightly as he realized he’d run his mouth after all, even if Jess wasn’t justanyone. Still, he felt like a bratty kid. “Sorry. I know I’m being ungrateful—”

She snorted. “Save it. It’s nothing everyone doesn’t already know, but most people have more sense than to say it out loud.”

Grady made a face. “Cowards,” he said hypocritically.

Jess laughed, but her amusement disappeared quickly. “Anyway, I didn’t come to get you drunk or impugn Old Glory or whatever. We can get to that later.” She stirred her own drink, the ice clinking gently against the sides of the glass. “I came to ask you something.”

Grady wasn’t even buzzed, but the words sobered him. When he was fifteen and she was twenty-five, their parents died. Jess had taken on the role of his parent ever since. She’d made every sacrifice to make sure Grady got to the NHL. “What’s up?”

She traced a water droplet down the outside of her glass. “So, some of my old teammates are doing a ski trip this year.”

Some of my old teammates.That probably meant Amanda, the ex-girlfriend Jess had never gotten over. They’d broken up just after Jess and Grady’s parents died. “Sounds fun. Why are you freaking about it?”

Jess sighed, her face etched with misery. “It’s over Christmas. I don’t want to leave you alone. And this is definitely a ‘no boys allowed’ kind of event.”

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