“Well he is starting his eighteenth season so Guardian fans had to expect this was coming sooner rather than later.”
“But on the eve of the season?”
“No doubt this is a shock that will reverberate across the league.”
“Any word on who will start tomorrow’s opener?”
“We haven’t been able to get a statement out of the Guardians coach yet, but we are working on it. This is breaking news and we’ll keep you updated as the story develops.”
“But once again in a shocking announcement it appears the Guardians have traded for soon-to-be successor for the aging Henrik Magnusson, and that successor will be Rusty Brown.”
“At this point it’s not a matter of if Brown will take Magnusson’s spot, it’s just a matter of when.”
Jean-Paul flips over to “On the Fly” on the NHL Network and they’re already doing a breakdown comparing the two players and speculating on what the Guardians will do with Henrik next. One suggests they cut him and save the salary cap space. Another mentions that he had a great year last year and still has trade value, while a third recommends he retires that way ensuring his legacy in New York as having only played for the Guardians.
“So the Guardians are looking to rebuild it seems,” Henrik says as he calmly takes another bite of something absolutely delicious that I just tried, and which is still sitting unchewed in my mouth due to the shock.
If I was at home I’d spit it back on my plate, but I’m not so instead I force it down in one big gulp.
“Are you okay?” he says noticing as my neck stretches forward like one of those giant snakes when it takes in a meal that’s initially too big for its body.
“Uh huh,” I say.
Jean-Paul flips off the television.
“Can you hand me that remote please, Jean-Paul?” Henrik asks. “And no more wine tonight after we finish this bottle.”
Henrik takes the remote and turns the television back on as I feel myself melting into the booth, trying to make myself smaller than I already am.
“I seem to remember this Rusty Brown fella. He was pretty good in college…great actually,” he says as “On The Fly” shows his collegiate highlights.
“Have you heard of him?” Henrik asks.
“Uh huh,” I say.
“Any good in your opinion?” Henrik asks. He’s still very calm, but seems somewhat focused on the TV now, which is totally understandable.
And I’m totally focused away from the TV, which is totally understandable for me, but not to anyone else in the restaurant…yet.
“He’s…talented,” I say.
“You gotta believe they’re gonna play him sooner rather than later, especially considering the size of the investment they made on him, right?” an announcer on the show says, almost mirroring the comments from over on ESPN.
“Yeah, I would say Magnusson’s days are numbered.”
“If they’re not already through.”
“Exactly,” the other announcer says.
“Looks like Brown just posted a picture on his Instagram of him in the new jersey.”
“That was fast.”
“About as fast as they just ran Magnusson out of town after eighteen years of incredible service to the team.”
“Cold-hearted.”
“It is hockey.”
I don’t laugh at the cheesy joke, nor does Henrik.
And what I see on the screen goes from bad to worse as they scroll through Rusty’s Instagram account.
“Seems he’s got a twin.”
“So did they get him too?”
“So they have a clone to play on the nights they give Rusty a rest?”
Both announcers laugh, but I’m a lot closer to spewing pasta out of my mouth than laughter.
“Here’s a picture of him with her,” one announcer says.
“Seems her name is Hazel. Hazel Brown,” he says and I taste blood as my front teeth bite down on my lower lip as my fingernails dig into my palms.
“Kind of looks like the young lady the paparazzi caught a few shots of with Henrik at today’s autograph signing just a few hours earlier at The Garden.”
“Think she knew?”
“Like a hockey spy?”
“Maybe the Russians put her up to it.”
They both laugh again but all I’m thinking about doing is grabbing the remote and shutting this damn nonsense off.
But my body is completely frozen.
“Seems your brother is very talented indeed,” Henrik says.
“He’s okay. Did you know you inspired him to take up a stick?”
“And he just inspired me. You know why?”
“Why?”
“Because deciding to take my position away from me is outside of my control. All I can do is continue playing my best. That decision is up to the coach. But what isn’t up to anyone is you.”
“Me?”
“You, because no one, including your brother, is ever taking you away from me.”
CHAPTER 10
Henrik
The next day
The incessant ringing on my phone after the report, and the paparazzi finding out we were at my restaurant got in the way of the plans I had for us last night.
What I found funny though was the fact that her phone was buzzing almost as much as mine. She was getting alerts from all the feeds she follows that track my name in news stories. That and apparently her friends know she has a crush on me.
But unfortunately it’s not time to let the world know.
The press already latched onto us being seen together at the autograph signing and if they would have caught wind of us leaving my restaurant together just after news broke that her twin brother was set to be my replacement at some point in the apparent near future, all hell would have broken loose for her.
There’s no way she’d be able to leave her apartment, much less join me on dates. She’s not ready for that yet and she doesn’t deserve it.
And neither do my teammates, and that includes her brother.
I know sports are a business. I get it. And I know veteran leadership is only as valuable as the last win you provide. Coaches are always on the hot seat as are players. It’s the ultimate in “what have you done for me lately?”
And although I’ve been a perennial All Star, apparently the team is trying to get in front of the fact that I’m thirty-six.
Sure, some guys who are freaks of nature like Chris Chelios who played until he was forty-eight, but generally speaking thirty-six is getting up there.
Not to mention Chelios was known for his “cyclepath,” more like psychopath, workout known as The Desert Ride where he would take two gallon jugs of water into a sauna and ride his exercise bike in there…for up to an hour to “get the blood flowing.”
And if that wasn’t enough he would sometimes put a cup of ice water up against the temperature gauge in the steam room so it would get even hotter inside.
Yeah, I’m not going to try that, not to mention the only glass of water I’m thinking about these days is the cold one I need to put to my forehead to calm me down every time I see Hazel. Or how I should permanently take a cold shower to keep my dick at bay. That thing is set to the constant erection setting every time she’s around.
But as I get in the goal it’s apparent who everyone else is focused on being around, and that’s her brother, who is currently on the bench but right beside the coach. I’m not sure if that’s a sign or not, considering how easy it would be to just tap him on the shoulder and send him in to replace me, but they’re not gonna switch goalies in the middle of the game, and especially not during a line change. They’d wait until the period is over at the earliest.
So I’ve got at least that much more life left in my career here in New York and I plan on stopping everything that comes my way.
But I can’t stop the camera which I can see keeps zooming in on me. They’ve got those damn things on ropes overhead now so they can move right along wit
h the puck and really get down in the action. They’re practically like drones at this point, although they are attached to those wire ropes, or whatever they are.
They want a close up view of me? Good. They can see how I’m gonna give it my all to keep my position, and keep the media off her back in the process.
No way they’re going to use me to divide her family in two. Not happening. And ironically the easiest way to avoid their attempts at that would be to retire immediately or to play my ass off.
I’m going with option number two every time.
I feel the excitement in The Garden as the official prepares to drop the puck for the opening face-off to start the game.
“Mag-nus-son! Mag-nus-son! Mag-nus-son!” fills the stadium as the crowd really gets into it, giving me all the support in the world.
I feel goose bumps cover my body as I quickly give them a head nod to acknowledge the love they’re showing me and then they really go nuts.
But there’s another kind of love I need to acknowledge…and that’s her.
I turn around and look at my box right behind the net. It’s the one I’ve had for a decade now, and the one she’s in.
I’m trying to keep her out of the media eye, but I can’t let them stop what we have either and that’s why I fulfilled my promise to her and she’s in my box tonight.
Plus I want her up there to see me and cheer me on. To be my number one fan.
And as messed up as it is for me, if her brother does get in she might just have the best seat in the house to see it.
So it’s a big day for both of us. Huge, matching the warm welcome I’m getting that’s definitely a career highlight.
The puck drops and one of the Bears players skates right at me. Of course as luck would have it we’re playing them on opening night, right after they traded their player to us.
I hear a collective gasp as he fires a great shot at the five hole, the spot in-between my legs, but I close up fast and smother it and the cheers of my name only get stronger, louder, and pump me up even more.
I clear the puck to our center and he skates it down the ice in the other direction leaving me all alone, which is a good thing in hockey. Pretty much the best actually.
But for the first time in my life I realize something.
The feeling I get from the crowd chanting my name is incredible always is. And it’s even next level tonight.
But for the first time it doesn’t match the intensity in another part of my life.
The way I feel about her.
And for a split second that brings me down a bit, but then it quickly makes me feel better.
Yeah, I’m gonna fight for my job. Yeah, I’m gonna give it my all. But you know what?
After eighteen years it’s good to know that I have something to look forward to after this crazy ride is all over.
And it’s her.
Hockey takes up so much of your life, just as any professional sport or entertainment type job does.
And when some guys finish their careers there’s a big gaping hole because the thing they’ve loved and worked on day in and day out since they were a child is gone. And in many cases it’s actually taken from them as they’re cut from a team when they feel like they could, and should, still be playing.
All kinds of emotions set in and just about none of them are any good.
But thankfully that’s not my fate…because of all the places in New York she chose to walk into yesterday she chose to walk into mine.
Or at least the place I play.
And she was there to see me and only me.
Damn, how lucky can a man get?
When one door is about to close another one swings right open, and this new one is even better than the first.
I’ve seen guys on the team and opposing teams that go from being single to being a family man, and I’ve see the change that happens within them and to them.
Externally you can just see that sparkle in their eyes the first time they become fathers and realize that as fun as hockey is, and is it damn fun, there is something much more to life than skating around after a six ounce, three inches in diameter, vulcanized rubber disk over the top of a sheet of ice.
So much more.
Like looking into the eyes of your first-born and realizing half of that child is you…you’re own blood.
And the other half is the woman you love. Your perfect pairing.
And although my teammates on the ice will always be my teammates, when my days on the ice are done I’ll have a new teammate. My MVP.
And that’s her.
Suddenly a puck comes flying at me and I stick a glove up at the last second and catch it.
I hear the crowd roar and realize that for some time everything was completely silent as my mind was processing exactly what was happening in regards to us…in the middle of a damn hockey game!
I’m daydreaming about her in a stadium filled with eighteen thousand rabid die-hard hockey fans.
And that should make me angry, but it’s the opposite. It makes me happier than hell.
I clear the puck with a smile on my face and go back to goaltending feeling great.
Because I know that I’ve got her in my corner forever, because she’s mine.
I quickly turn around and look up at my box and see her there wearing my jersey.
She spots me and starts jumping up and down like a lunatic.
My hockey obsessed lunatic, and I love her like a crazy man myself for it.
She’s all in on me, and I’m all in on her.
I can’t wait to make her mine officially, even though we both know it’s crystal clear she was the moment I laid eyes on her.
CHAPTER 11
Hazel
Henrik is playing unbelievably well, maybe even exceeding the All Star level he’s known for.
But as the second, of three, periods is about to wind down I hear some chatter in my earbud which contains a live broadcast of the game.
I go from standing to sitting as I press my hand against the earbud making sure I can hear what the announcers are saying.
“As you can see the team owner is sitting right behind the bench,” one announcer says to another.
“This is unprecedented. Since when do team owners leave the comforts of the VIP luxury suites and go down to make on-ice decisions.”
“Never, that’s what they hired the coach to do in the first place.”
“Well, that seems to be the problem right there. Zoom in on the owner!”
I don’t have a TV, but I wait for what the announcer is going to say next.
“I can read his lips. He’s saying ‘youth movement.’”
“He sure is. And that means we may have another unprecedented moment if they pull Magnusson out of game for the first time in eighteen years.”
“He’s had a rare night off from time to time, as all players do, but he’s never been pulled.”
“And especially not on opening night.”
“And it looks like there’s a very heated debate between the owner and the coach.”
And I’m getting heated myself just listening to this. I don’t want them to pull Henrik, not like this. I should be happy for my brother getting in to his first NHL game, but I just can’t stomach the thought of it happening like this.
“Well, there’s only two minutes left in the period so something’s got to give.”
“It’s like a heavyweight title fight coming right down to the bell…watching these two.”
“It sure is. Oh! Look at that! The owner pulled out a key and he’s entering the glassed in area where the players and coaches sit.”
“That’s gonna be a hefty fine.”
“Not like he can’t afford it.”
I stand looking down where the team is sitting and I see the team owner grab my brother by the shoulders and literally try and lift him up. He can’t, but my brother gets the message and moves toward the area where players leave the box and go onto the ice.
“Here it is. Mark this date on your calendars, people,” the announcer says.
“They’re pulling Magnusson.”
Hockey Obsession: An Older Man Younger Woman Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 76) Page 5
