Page 51 of Playing the Pucking Game
But it doesn’t matter that she’s gone. She’s still the only thing I see.
14
PARKER
My eyes are sore and my body is sluggish as I climb up the stairs to the team’s private jet the next afternoon.
I stood my ground this morning with Linc and told Jarad, and then Coach, that he wasn’t partaking in morning skate, nor is he playing tomorrow night.
Coach didn’t look too impressed, but he had no choice but to agree. He needs his best players healthy, and right now, Linc is struggling, even if he won’t admit it.
But while I might have won Coach over, the player himself is another issue entirely.
He’s pissed. Not that I care. Not about pulling him from a game, at least.
I still feel awful about last night.
I had no idea. Not a single fucking clue that he’d organized anything.
I spent ages lying in bed, trying to remember our conversation in the trainers’ room. The only thing I recall him saying was “celebrating tonight?” But I took that as a question about my plans for the night, not an invitation to celebrate with him.
When I think back to the set table, the homemade food, the flowers, the note, I struggle to believe it was real.
Those aren’t the actions of the Lincoln Storm I know.
He doesn’t buy women flowers. Hell, I don’t think he’s even bought his mom flowers.
The inside of the airplane is already in chaos. Despite being lost in my memories of the disastrous night before, my eyes are everywhere, taking it all in.
“Parker,” a soft voice calls, and when I look over, I find Brooke in the row behind the coaches and a free seat beside her. “I saved you a seat.”
My eyes lift to the rows behind her and find them almost full of the team.
I’ve been around ice hockey players long enough to know the airplane protocols and how seriously they all take their seating positions. I don’t dare go back and mess with their pre-game rituals.
However, I also don’t really want to be in the middle of the coaches’ discussions either. My other option is Mitchell, who’s sitting alone on the other side of the aisle.
Hell no.
Good to know no one else wants to sit next to the guy, either.
“Thank you so much,” I say, making a decision before someone else can snag the seat.
After placing my carry-on into the overhead bin, I drop into the seat. And holy hell, it is so much better than any airplane seat my ass has ever hit before.
I shouldn’t be surprised by the luxury the guys travel in, but I am.
“This is crazy,” I breathe as I rest my head back and allow a smile to pull at my lips.
I did it.
I fucking did it.
“Are you ready for your first road games?” Brooke asks. There’s excitement glittering in her eyes, but nowhere as much as I’m feeling.
“Yeah, I think so. I'm pretty sure I packed too much, though,” I confess.
“Standard. You’ll get used to it. It becomes second nature after a while.”
