Page 1 of Power Move
CHAPTER 1
SAGE
The night iscold and crisp and the last rays of sunset are fading beneath the purple sky stretching over Minneapolis. Shivering in my coat, I hurry along the crowded street, keeping pace with my friends and teammates.
The slap of our shoes on the pavement accompanies the blare of car horns, the rush of heavy traffic, and the frenetic energy pulsing under my skin. This isn’t a regular night out with the guys. No matter how hard I try to pretend, I can’t trick myself into remaining at ease.
We round the block’s corner and the bar where we’re due to meet a handful of Minneapolis Metros players comes into view. My heartbeat thuds harder. “We’re sure this is okay?”
Morgan, my best friend and line mate, throws his arm over my shoulders and squeezes me to his side, enveloping me in a cloud of the ocean-scented body spray he doused himself with before we walked out of the house. “Relax. We were invited.”
“By Remy, not by one of the Metros.” Icy wind whips around us, stealing my breath. In the three years I’ve played hockey for the Saint Paul Slash, Slash players have never been invited to get-togethers with the Metros. Being invited by Remy, a call up from our team, isn’t the same as being invited by an actualMetros player. Though he’s been playing for them for over a month, he’s the first one to say he feels like a temporary piece, a visitor holding space until some of their regulars return to the lineup.
Soren, our goalie and the newest addition to our team, turns around to face me and continues walking, backward. A streetlight casts a blue glow over his blond hair. He raises a brow as he studies my face. “Sage, it’ll be fine.”
“Will it?” I sidestep a slick patch of ice and knock into Morgan’s side.
“Do we need to playwhat’s the worst that can happen?” Phil links his hands with Gio and the pair slow down so they’re walking beside me. Defensive partners on the ice, the husbands came up with this game for me. Talking through my spiraling worries is actually helpful.
“Yeah.”
Gio pats me on the shoulder. “Okay, go. What’s the worst that can happen tonight?”
My footsteps slowing, I take a deep breath and keep my focus on the bar’s sign half a block away. “I spill a drink on one of them. Or I trip, or say something stupid. Or the Metros don’t want us there, and Soren gets into a fight with whoever insists we leave, the fight escalates, and we lose our spots on the team for conduct detrimental to the organization.”
Soren stops walking and gapes at me. The ends of his green scarf flap in the wind like little flags. “Excuse me?I’dget into the fight?”
“You did with the bouncer who wouldn’t let us into that club on New Year’s Eve.” The incident from nearly four weeks ago is still fresh in my mind.
“That was different. He was a Winnipeg fan and wouldn’t let us in for that reason alone.” Shaking his head, he takes a step backward, into a small patch of snow that crunches beneathhis boot. “I can control myself. No fights tonight, so you can eliminate that from your list of worries. Though I’m pretty impressed you went all the way to us getting suspended, or worse.”
“What can I say? I had a lot of time to think between getting the text from Remy after practice this afternoon and us heading over here.” Since we all live together, hiding my anxiety is impossible. I know it might annoy them at times, but they talk me through my spiraling thoughts with support and care and never treat me like I’m a pain in the ass. “Being able to actually talk to Remy about it would’ve been helpful.”
Morgan ruffles my hair before releasing his hold on me. “His schedule has conflicted so much with ours, I don’t think all of us have been at home at the same time in weeks.”
Gio taps Soren’s arm and motions for him to face forward. “Turn around so you don’t head into a telephone pole. And Sage, take a breath and relax. You’re expending too much mental energy on this. Remy would’ve gotten the okay from someone before he invited us.”
“I know.” We keep walking. Drawing in a long, slow breath, I count to eight. Hold for eight. And exhale, counting down, as my breath puffs out like steam in front of me.
I wish I wasn’t wired this way, but I am what I am, despite my efforts to change. These guys accept me, like me, even love me in spite of it.
Not everyone does.
“And on that note, we’re here.” Morgan pulls me toward the bar’s double doors. “Let’s find Remy.”
Soren holds the door open for us, and Gio and Phil step inside first. I follow with Morgan. Music and conversations swell around us. The interior is black wood and exposed brick, with dim lighting. Oak and leather scent the warm air. Unzipping mycoat, I raise onto my toes, peering over Gio and Phil’s shoulders, scanning the room for Remy.
Our friend is seated with a quartet of Metros players at a table near the room’s center. My footsteps falter in a flash of recognition, he’s sitting with the best players on the team. One captain, two alternate captains, and a defenseman who’s caught my attention for far more than his on-ice skills.
Remy looks our way. His eyes light up and he says a few words to his tablemates before standing and waving us over, his smile a mile wide.
Soren’s hand clamps on my shoulder. “Holy shit. He’s sitting with Quinn Cagney, Maxim Durand, Jonas Nygaard, and Rhys Farrell.”
“Yeah.” My heart starts up the hard-thumping beat again. These are veteran players, well-respected, and well-liked. They’ve all represented their countries in national competitions, too.
The guys look friendly and two of them drag extra chairs over for us. I follow Morgan through the maze of tables, my nerves buzzing worse than the first time I stepped onto the ice with my team.
Dark hair flopping into his eyes, Remy throws his arms around Morgan and me. “You made it.”
