“Of course,” Jeannine said. “You’re one of us now, in a sense.”
“You take care of our boys,” Paige added.
“Come out with us,” Bailey said.
“Now?”
“Yeah,” Jeannine said, motioning to the ice where the Sharks were gathered around Coach. “They’ll have a good lecture after this, then showers, then a gossip sesh—though they’d never admit to it—and then after all that is said and done they’ll meet up with us later.”
“We’ve got a good two hours, at least,” Bailey said, standing, the other’s following.
I debated the paperwork in my office, though I knew I could catch up on it first thing in the morning.
I thought about my original plan—hanging around till after practice and showers, for the off-chance Bentley would seek me in my office, for something innocent like coffee or burgers.
Pathetic.
“I’m so in,” I said, following them down the steps and out of the rink.
“Nice,” Bailey said, looping her arm through mine. “We all rode together, so hop in with us and we’ll bring you back to your car later.”
I agreed, falling into the backseat of Nine’s car.
Bailey chatted the entire twenty-minute drive to a hole-in-the wall sports bar that smelled like a combo of fried-food-heaven and sweet liquor.
Nine snagged a booth tucked in the back corner—big enough to fit eight people—and my stomach fluttered at the thought that Bentley might join the guys later.
Foolish to get my hopes up, but I’d always been a fool for Bentley Rogers.
“I know the chef and bartender here,” Nine said. “It looks like a shady establishment but his food is almost better than mine.”
Paige gaped at her.
“I said almost,” Jeannine said, playfully swatting Paige’s arm.
“Just shocked you did,” Paige said.
Bailey had rushed to the bar and returned with four long-necks before taking a seat next to me.
“To a new season?” she asked, raising her beer.
“To a new season,” we all agreed, clinking our bottles together before taking a drink.
The beer was ice cold and this side of hoppy, two of my favorite combinations.
“So,” Nine said. “What is your story? Tell us everything ever.”
“Nine,” Bailey chided again.
I chuckled.
“It’s fine,” I said, though a string of nerves tightened in my stomach. I took a few extra drinks in an attempt to ease the tension from my shoulders.
The struggle was real while I debated on where to start. I wanted girlfriends on a near-desperate level—missing that camaraderie that my relationship in Canada had all but obliterated.
“How’d you get into the hockey life?” Paige asked, a much simpler approach than insert life story here.
Except that the answer involved Bentley.
I swallowed hard.
What the hell? They were married to Sharks and had been kind to me each time I’d seen them. Might as well go all in. I finished my beer before I spoke, needing the liquid courage.
“Well, that story involves the rookie,” I said, unable to shape my lips around Bent’s name.
Jeannine’s mouth dropped. “What?”
I shrugged, trying not to give away just how much I loved Bentley . . . how much I’d never stopped.
“We grew up together,” I finally said, thankful when our waitress brought over another round.
“Small world,” Bailey said.
Not really.
After what had happened at Ontario . . . I’d sought out a deal with the Sharks. I didn’t expect anything to happen between me and Bent, I just needed to get away from Ontario.
Be somewhere safe.
“So, you two were friends and his love of hockey rubbed off on you?” Paige asked, still sipping her first beer.
I was well into my second.
“Something like that.”
“I’m super good at reading between the lines, Chloe,” Nine said. “It’s a curse. Spill.”
“Feel free to ignore her,” Bailey said, eyeing Nine. “She’s totally pushy when it comes to romance.”
Nine tsked her. “If I wasn’t where do you two think you’d be, huh? Probably not married to your Sharks!”
Paige gaped at Bailey. “She’s delusional,” she said. “She thinks those lists were the reason we fell in love with our husbands.”
“You’re lying to yourself if you think it’s not,” Jeannine fired back.
“Lists?” I asked, trying like hell to keep up.
“Nothing,” Bailey and Paige said at the same time.
My shoulders dropped a fraction.
Bailey sighed. “Nine may have helped us create some dirty-girl bucket-lists.” She hurried through the words, her cheeks flushing. “Before we were ever with Gage or Rory. The lists . . . they kind of helped us break the ice and . . . you can guess the rest from there.”
Paige held her chin high, no amount of flush on her cheeks. I would expect nothing less from Rory’s wife.
“See,” Jeannine said. “Thank you. Took you almost two years and our new BFF to admit it.”
My heart swelled at her declaration, and it almost made me sad. The fact that a few girls’ friendship could mean so much to me.
He kept me so isolated and I didn’t even realize.
“Don’t get me started on your story, Nine,” Paige said, shooting her a playful look that didn’t match the threat in her words at all.
Jeannine shrugged, her beautiful blonde locks bouncing with her shoulder’s movement. “I’m an open book,” she said, glancing at me. “I had a smoking hot one-night-stand with Warren.”
I spit half my beer back into the bottle.
The girls chuckled.
“And it resulted in Katherine.”
I raised my brows.
“Then I fell for him.”
“And they lived happily ever after,” Paige cooed, and Nine smacked her arm again.
“That’s . . . wonderful,” I said, and hated the longing in my voice. “That you all managed to find happiness. It’s rarer in this world than you’d think.”
“Damn it,” Nine slammed her beer on the table. “Did the rookie break your heart?”
I forced out a laugh, fiddling with the label on my beer. “Quite the opposite, actually.”
Bailey gasped. “You?”
“It’s complicated.”
Nine propped an elbow on the table, her chin resting against her hand. “I love complicated.”
Paige rolled her eyes.
“It was a decade ago,” I said, waving her off like it wasn’t the most significant moment in my life. Like it—and the events that happened after—hadn’t set me on a dangerous course I never expected.
“And now you’re here,” Bailey said. “Working for the Sharks. That sounds even more complicated.”
“He moved on.” I finished my second beer. “Easily. Quickly. It took me a while longer.”
“How long were you two together?” Paige asked.
I sighed. “My whole life.” I blinked out of the past. “Well, until we were seventeen, anyway.”
“Why did it end?” Jeannine asked.
A splinter of ice cracked across my heart.
Because I needed to set him free.
So he could become who he was meant to be.
Who he is now.
“He got a full-ride hockey scholarship. I had . . . obligations at home. I didn’t want to hold him back.”
Not that he knew that.
Or knew the terms of those obligations.
No one did.
Not really.
Not even him.
A cold shudder ran along my spine.
Everything was so tangled.
I’d thought coming to Seattle—putting sixteen-hundred-miles between me and him would fix everything.
News to me, things were more complicated than before.
<
br /> At least one thing was working out for the better.
Those obligations.
What I would willingly destroy my heart for again and again . . .
My mother.
I finally had full control of her care, and she was getting the best care possible. Thanks to this contract.
“Sorry,” Bailey said as if she could read the regret in my eyes.
I forced a smile to my lips, handing off my second empty to the waitress and happily accepting my third. I hadn’t intended to get drunk with the girls, but there was something about a drink or three that made recalling my past with Bentley a little easier.
A little less painful.
“It’s fine,” I said.
“How’d you end up with Ontario?” Jeannine asked, her voice softer.
“After getting my degree in physical therapy, I started as an intern at one of the hockey camps out there for NHL players. Learned from the best. Worked my way up until I was running my own camp. Then Ontario scouted me and the opportunity was too good to turn down.
Now I regretted it more than almost anything. Second to letting Bentley leave without me.
A selfish thought, considering I had to take care of my family, but it was there nonetheless.
“If it was such a sweet deal with Ontario—gag,” Paige began, and I laughed, “then why did you come here? To their sworn enemy.” She chuckled.
I sucked in a sharp breath and took another drink.
The hoppy goodness sent bubbles through my blood and a sweet detached fog in my brain. The buzz was welcomed almost as much as the company.
“I had a boyfriend,” I admitted. “The first serious one since Bentley.” I cleared my throat, wishing like hell it wouldn’t tighten every time I thought about it. “He changed after we moved in together. And it got to a point where . . .” I sighed. “I needed to get out.”
Bailey rubbed her hand over my back, sympathy flashing in her eyes.
“Bastard,” Jeannine snapped. “Good for you for leaving.”
I wished I felt good about it.
But with his threats when I left—about outing me to my new boss—fuck it didn’t feel good at all.
The magnitude of everything swirled inside my already spinning mind, and I felt the words bubble up before I could stop them.
“He was a player,” I said, and the relief at the admission snaked out of me so much it hurt.
“Cheater?” Paige hissed.
I shook my head. “No. He played for Ontario.”
A collective gasp rang across the table.
“Yup,” I said. “We declared it with HR before we moved in. Everything was perfect . . .”
“Until it wasn’t,” Bailey filled in for me.
“Right. And then when I ended things. Well, let’s just say he wasn’t thrilled. He liked to be in control, and he’d never been left before.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “He sort of threatened to go to the head of the Sharks and tell them I’m a puck bunny in disguise if he ever caught me with another man. Inform the CEO that I’d be a threat to their players and all that.” I rolled my eyes, but it still scared the shit out of me. Especially with how desperately I needed this job. To keep my mother healthy and cared for . . . for however long she had left.
Another stab of ice in my chest.
“I’m sorry,” I said, taking another gulp. “I seriously shouldn’t be telling you all this.”
But it felt so good to have it out there, off my chest.
“Please.” Jeanine waved me off. “You can tell us anything. I know I’m biased, but we’re good people. We wouldn’t have invited you out if we weren’t ready to initiate you.”
My eyes popped wide at that. “What does that entail?”
Jeannine smirked. “Depends,” she said, glancing at the girls. “Who has a piece of paper and a pen?”
Twenty minutes later, my sides hurt I was laughing so hard.
“And finally,” Jeannine said. “Number ten. Witness that mother fucker get punched in the throat, either on or off the ice.”
Paige smacked the flattened piece of paper, then Bailey, and then Jeannine before she slid it across to me.
“There you have it,” she said. “You’re officially one of us.”
I swiped a tear from my eye—from laughing not emotions—and scanned the list. There were some incredibly hot things on there I’d never tried before—all Nine’s doing. And then there were some revenge-like things on there—all Paige. Last, there was a whole bunch of self-care things—from Bailey.
“I don’t know what to say,” I said.
“Say you’re one of us,” Jeannine demanded, and I straightened in my seat, a loose smile on my lips.
I raised my fourth—or was it my fifth?—beer and clinked it against theirs.
“One of us!” I cheered a little too loudly.
We all laughed and settled back into some scintillating conversation on what exactly had been on their lists. The rapid-fire stories, laughs, and support wove around me like a warm blanket, and I was suddenly so happy it hurt.
How had I lived so many years with that asshole?
How had I let him drive away everyone in my life?
Because you were broken-hearted and you wanted to force yourself to move on.
Right.
Perhaps the most pathetic thing—that I’d launched into a relationship with him because I could never rid my heart of Bentley no matter how hard I tried.
But it wasn’t his fault.
None of it was.
It was mine alone to bear.
And now, sitting among my new friends, confessing to the chaos that my life had turned into—I felt I might finally be on the right path.
One where I hoped in the end the storm would clear, and perhaps, if I was lucky enough, another friendship would be waiting on the other end of it.
Chapter 7
Bentley
“I’m shocked as shit you skated so well, Rookie,” Rory chided as he towel-dried his coveted hair.
“Why?” I snapped back, slipping a white cotton T over my head. “Because you were too slow to keep up?”
“Nah.” He smirked as he stepped closer to me. Too close. “Because you couldn’t keep your eyes off the new PT watching from the stands,” he whispered, but I still whipped my head around, wondering if Coach was anywhere near.
He wasn’t, thankfully.
Only people who caught the words were Warren and Gage, who now looked at me with raised brows.
“That’s a world of trouble,” Gage said, always the dad of the group. “I wouldn’t go down that road if I were you.”
“Who did you marry again?” I quipped. “The nanny?”
He snapped his fingers at me. “Watch it, kid.” But there was laughter in his tone. “I have your best interests at heart.”
“I know,” I said, then gestured to Rory. “This guy doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“Sure I do,” he said, buttoning his jeans. “I was that guy. Searching for a flash of red hair back when Paige and I first started . . .” He let the sentence hang there, his eyes traveling back in time. He blinked, but a sugar-sweet smile filled his face.
I kind of wanted to puke.
“Anyway,” he said. “I’m trying to save you from yourself.”
I swallowed hard, my nerves twisting into sharp coils.
Last night.
With Chloe.
I’d almost crossed the line.
Almost kissed her outside her apartment complex.
Almost said to hell with the Sharks.
All because my heart remembered hers and wanted it back.
“She really is the same Chloe, isn’t she?” Warren asked, stepping into my line of sight. Remembering our conversation from weeks ago.
When he’d spoken about his time in Canada. When I’d let slip the name of the only ex that mattered—Chloe.
My silence was answer enough.
“Fuck,” he hissed. “The past
isn’t buried like you said, is it?” He glanced at Gage. “We need to hit a bar, now. Get him a new fixation.” He declared it like it was an emergency.
“I don’t want another chick,” I snapped.
Gage’s mouth dropped.
“Fuck,” I hissed, glancing over my shoulder. The locker room had cleared out, as it so often did when me and the guys got caught up re-hashing the practice or old games or simply shooting the shit. “Chloe—”
“Chloe?” Rory cut me off. “Oh, you’re already fucked.”
“It’s complicated,” I growled. “We knew each other a lifetime ago.”
“And?” Gage asked.
“And nothing.” I shrugged. “There is nothing going on.”
“You do remember what Coach said, right?” Warren asked.
I remembered every fucking word.
Go after Chloe—once the light of my very existence—and lose my career. The career I’d worked my whole life to achieve.
“Yes,” I said. “It doesn’t matter. Like I said, lifetime ago.”
Rory tipped his chin up, looking at me with an all-too-knowing look in his eyes. “So, you’re perfectly fine around her then?”
“’Course.”
“Haven’t even had a flicker to return to the past? Dig up old history?”
A muscle in my jaw flexed, and I crossed my arms over my chest. “Nope.”
Flat out lie.
I should just tell them.
They’d talk sense into me.
Remind me why I love my job so much.
“So, you won’t go all moony-eyed if you ran into her at a bar?”
“No, I wouldn’t.”
Yes, I totally would.
More than that, I’d probably go full-on caveman if I saw anyone approach her.
Fuck, how did things get so damn complicated?
“Great!” Rory smacked my shoulder, motioning toward the door. “Paige texted me a minute ago. They roped Chloe into going out for drinks. We’re meeting them there now.”
My muscles locked as the rest of the guys went for the door.
Not only was Chloe invading my job, now she had befriended my friends’ wives.
And while we were on the slow road to try to find some kind of mutual ground—rooted in strictly friendship—I’d been seconds away from ruining us last night.
Rookie (Seattle Sharks Book 4) Page 6
