by Lainey Davis
Rowing crew, the whole goal is uniformity. Even if you’ve got the ability to go faster you need to match pace with your teammates. It’s always worked well for me. I’m strong as the powerhouse, and they need me!
I finish my shower and get dressed for work, thinking about how I can possibly convince my boss to move his brother to another lawyer in the firm. Maybe that will be easier now that I punched a Stag in the face? This just isn’t going to work well for me.
I text Lisa. Emergency. Can you talk?
My phone rings an instant later, and I don't even say hello. "I shoved Ty at the DMV and he fell and got a bloody nose."
"Say what now?"
I relay most of the story to Lisa, saying only that he said something rude and I wasn't thinking.
"Hang on a sec." I hear a rustling in the background, a clicking sound. "Oh shit. June, go to your laptop."
"What? Why?"
"Just pull up TMZ."
It takes a minute to load, but I see a gossip story about Ty, bloody and grinning with the staff at the East Liberty DMV. "Mother fucker."
Lisa is reading aloud. "Pittsburgh hockey hottie gets the hand when he hits on a hometown gal. That's not a bad headline," she says. "It looks like they're making it sound fun. Ty must be really good with the public. Look how even the guard is excited to hug his bloody ass."
"What do I do, Lees?"
There's a long pause and I can tell she's reading and searching the web for more news. "I think you ignore it. Or maybe, like, apologize to him? Send him a bottle of aspirin?"
"You are useless." I shove my feet in my heels and grab my bag.
"At least I'm not guilty of assault! Go take it out on the water later."
I sigh. It's going to be a long day at work.
When I arrive, I grab Tim by the break room for a word. He is more animated than I’ve seen him so far. He is evidently thrilled with the contract work I’ve done so far for his brother, loves the campaign to clean up Ty’s image, and says Matty called about some good press on the gossip columns.
"Good press?"
Tim grins. "My brother was working the fans. I think he got fresh with some feisty woman and she gave him a bloody nose. I don't know. Matty says it looks great from his perspective. Ty really has matured. A few years ago, this would have been a sex scandal story." My jaw hangs open, and Tim says he wants me to meet with him later about taking on some of the MLB players to my client portfolio.
I sigh and sink into my desk. What is it about this city? Nothing makes sense here. I lose myself in my work, preparing contracts for everyone Tim suggested, and I don’t come up for air until well past dark.
Eleven
TY
When I show up to practice with a black eye, coach looks at me like he wants to punch me in the other one. I tell him I was horsing around with my brothers, but I can tell he's not buying it.
"You don't think my people tell me about the gossip, Stag? I fucking read the Internet. What did we talk about? No fights. No chasing tail."
"No, sir." I shake my head, but he puts a meaty hand on my chest.
"Lace up and get out on the ice. Make me happy I signed you."
Great. What the fuck got into Juniper? I mean, yeah, I said something sorta rude, but I wasn't expecting her to check me like that. Hell, she'd give some of these guys a run for their starting spot. I should bring her to practice sometime. I wonder how hot she'd look in hockey pads?
I manage to forget about it and get in a good practice, but while I'm getting iced down later, I decide to call Juniper on her little jab. She picks up after one ring.
"Ty."
"You trying to get me fired so you're not my lawyer anymore so I'll fuck you again, baby?"
"I swear to Christ, I'm not even sorry anymore, Ty."
"Easy, easy. I just called you to let you apologize. I'm in an ice bath right now, so I've got time to wait for you to gather up all the humble pie you want to eat."
I hear her snort, but I'm not going to let her off easy. "My face hurts so bad, Ju-jo. I'm worried I will have to get PT. You might have cracked my orbital bone."
"All right, all right. Ty. I am sincerely sorry that I shoved you and that is never ok, no matter what awful thing you said to me."
I settle deeper into the whirlpool tub. This shit feels so good on my aching body, and the sound of Juniper's voice in my ear feels good in a different way. "How are you going to make it up to me?"
"Excuse me?"
"The whole Internet knows I got rejected by an angry girl. They think I'm some scoundrel now. I'm probably going to get a lot of panties thrown at me on the ice."
"Well, then I guess I helped your dating prowess, so that's how I'll make it up to you."
"I'll think of something, Juniper Jones."
She snorts again. I love all these noises she makes. "See you on the dock tomorrow morning?"
"Yes, Ty, I'll see you on the dock."
Again, I watch with Derrick from the motorboat while the team rows. Again, I stare at Juniper the whole time. I ask Derrick some questions about her form, what he looks for when he's coaching. He talks about breath and unity. Everything he says, I see Juniper doing perfectly. Perfectly. She makes me think back on how hockey was for me in junior high. I was so much better than everyone around me, it really stalled my own progress until Tim got me transferred into a different school with a better hockey program. That's when my career really took off. I wonder if Juniper's rowing team in Boston was better than this one, but when I Google it, they seem about evenly matched.
I look at Derrick and wonder if he's the Tim she needs to kickstart her rowing.
On the ice, everything is going so great. I gel with my teammates. I remember some of these guys from junior leagues and we've played against each other before. It's not like we're strangers. I'm starting to get a feel for their pace and energy, but of course you can never really tell until you're in a game with these guys.
I'm ready for a game.
Sunday arrives and I fucking love the butterflies in my stomach. This all just feels so right and so surreal at once. As I'm lacing up, some of the guys pound me on the shoulder. I look down at my gear, stare at my name STAG on a Pittsburgh jersey.
My whole life, I've dreamed of playing with the Fury. My hometown team. Today is the day.
I know my brothers and my grandma are up in the suite above center ice. I am pretty sure Juniper is up there, too. I want her to see me play, and I realize I really want her to be impressed with me as an athlete. That's weird for me. I really never give a shit what women think about me. I mean, most of the ones I sleep with are mostly with me because I'm famous and I have a nice body. That's just plain objective fact. But none of them ever know anything about me as a person. About what it means to be good at a sport like this.
As they announce my name, I skate a lap around the ice, and I feel so grateful. I remember everything about why I play this sport, why I worked so hard my whole life to be out here.
At the face off, some guy from Colorado starts saying some shit to me, but who gives a fuck? "Hear you got beat up by a chick, Stag." What do I care what this asshole thinks? Halfway into the first period, I slam him into the boards, steal the puck from him, and pass to my guy Kingston, who shoots it right into the corner of the net. Fucking swish. That's what I'm talking about. I don't even feel like I need to fight. What the hell was I so angry about playing before, anyway? Scoring against these assholes feels way better than fighting with them.
All game long, the Colorado guys are trying to bait me, and what do I do? I look over at Coach, and I score two fucking goals, that's what I do. In a playoff game. Everything clicks, I can see where my teammates are going to be, and I connect with them. When we change lines, Coach claps me once on the back and pounds my helmet. Yeah. I'm good here.
I barely recognize myself now, though, getting back pats in the locker room, joking around. When they moved me to the minors to get my shit together, I just felt like that
pissed me off more. Hell, I got in more fights playing minor league hockey and spent more time in the sin bin than I ever did in the big leagues.
But I don't know. Sometime in the past year, I got sick of all that shit. I guess maybe I grew up. I'm still a cocky asshole. But damn if it doesn't feel better to win the game than it does to win the fist fight.
The press is waiting outside the locker room, and I decide to talk to them before I shower. I know my eye is still black and blue, but half these guys are bloody and bruised after the game. I know they're going to ask me what changed out on the ice. “The truth is, I’m really glad to be back in my hometown,” I tell the guy from ESPN. “Lacing up for the Fury today, with my brothers in the stands, was really a lifelong dream for me.”
“Ty, how were you able to keep your temper in check today? That’s been an issue for you since you started your pro career.”
I work hard not to roll my eyes at this guy. “I started pro when I was still a teenager, right from high school. I’ve come a long way since then. You know, my coaches here have a strong game plan. My teammates and I play for each other. It’s easy to keep my eye on the goal and tune out all the background noise.” That’ll shut him up, right? I can see my coach nodding and Matty gives me a thumbs up.
As the press slowly files out, the other guys talk about how they’re going to celebrate. I consider ditching my plans with my brothers to join the guys at the strip club, but I realize that I just don’t feel like doing that. The only set of cans I’m interested in seeing was up in the suite with my family today, and I can’t exactly go call her up for a celebration fuck. And I hate that.
Who have I become that I’m more excited to go sign my contract update tomorrow than I am about winning the most important hockey game I’ve ever played? I roll into my house before 11pm, and even my grandma is surprised to see me.
“Tyrion Stag,” she yells from her bedroom. “I didn’t expect you to come home tonight!”
I sit on the edge of her bed, still wearing my suit and tie. Our coach insists on “number ones” for all the official business after the game. I know I look damn good. Gram acts like she’s picking a piece of fuzz off my shoulder, but I think she just wants an excuse to pat my arm. “I’m so glad to have you back home, you know,” she says. “It was good to watch you out there, to watch your brothers enjoying you play.”
She smiles at me and I pull her close. Gram has basically been the only mother in my life. I was really young when my mom died, not even ten years old. Dad never recovered and drank himself into…”Hey, Gram,” I ask her. “Do you even know where Dad is these days?”
She sighs and sits back against her pillows. “I haven’t heard from or seen him in months. He’s still around...somewhere.” She clutches at the locket around her neck, where she’s got a picture of the 6 of us. Mom, Dad, Gram and her 3 grandsons. A happy family from a long time ago, who’ve been scattered for a long time. “I bet he watched your game though, from whatever bar he’s holed up in lately.”
I nod. She’s probably right about that. It’s a wonder he hasn’t come around to hit us up for money. I’m sure he knows Tim is doing well financially. I don't want to brag, but I'm sort of famous, too. Maybe he's ashamed. I decide not to worry about Dad anymore tonight, though. I keep thinking about whether Juniper was watching, what she thought about when she saw me score. I sigh.
“Hey, Gram, you wanna come with me tomorrow to Tim’s office? I’m signing my contract and then we can get lunch. I’ll buy!”
“Of course you’ll buy, young man. You’re living here rent free!” She whacks me with a pillow and I laugh.
“We’ll head out around 11. Sound good?”
I check the locks and turn off the lights for Gram, falling into bed still thinking about how I’m more excited to see my lawyer in the morning than I was about scoring 2 goals in a Stanley Cup Playoff game. This chick feels more important to me than hockey right now, and that scares me shitless.
Twelve
JUNIPER
"Here’s to hockey!” Alice, the new chef at work, and I decided to go grab a beer after the Fury game. The entire staff of Stag Law was in the luxury suite to watch, and I have to admit it was pretty spectacular to see the game from that perch. I tried not to stare at Ty the entire time, but it’s impossible to take your eye off the guy who has 10 shots at the goal.
My mind keeps wandering, thinking about how fierce Ty looked handling the puck. He played aggressively, and I could definitely see how he ran into trouble for fighting throughout his career. The other team kept trying to bait him, but a slap shot from the blue line straight into the goalie’s five-hole was definitely a better answer than a punch to the jaw and a ride in the penalty box.
“Earth to Juniper! Hello!?”
“Oh man, I’m sorry Alice. I keep thinking about the game.”
She smiles--she looks particularly happy tonight. “Me, too. And I don’t even really like hockey!” Alice tells me about her family, how all of her siblings are so close. I love how warm and friendly she is and I’m glad she reached out to ask me for a drink after the game. She tells me that her sister and brother are in a fight over how high up they store the baseball bat, because her sister doesn't want her nephews to get hold of it. But as they were fighting, the boys got the bat and hit their uncle in the shins. I could listen to her stories about family for hours.
“Your house sounds like such a warm place,” I say, and she nods. “I never had anything like that.” I explain to Alice that it was just me and my dad growing up, but I don’t have the energy to tell her the full story. I know that she lost her mom, though, so I tell her how my dad passed away a few years ago when I was in college. “It’s just me now,” I say, shrugging.
She smiles over her beer and pats my hand. “You and your new Stag Law family! But seriously, just come over sometime. I make way messier food when I’m at home, and I know you’ll work it all off rowing anyway.”
“Speaking of, I have to be on the water pretty early tomorrow. Sure you won't join us?”
Alice laughs. "I have enough going on. But I'll make you a good recovery shake for when you get to work. Deal?" I shake her hand and then we gather up our things and head home.
Lying in bed, I keep seeing scenes from the hockey game. I gripped the arms of my seat in the front row of the box, oblivious to everything around me, staring at Ty’s face as he sped across the ice. The way he took control of the puck and the team around him reminded me of how he took charge that night in the bathroom. How he wouldn’t stop until I was putty in his hands. Remembering, I can’t help but slide my hand down my panties to feel the pulsing heat still thrumming there. I squirm, telling myself I shouldn’t do this, but I can’t escape my longing to feel him again. It doesn’t take much--just a few flicks and I’m falling over the edge at the mere memory of Ty Stag and his magical body.
Monday morning I’m consulting with some other attorneys, divvying up some of the baseball contracts, when I hear a commotion in the hallway. I hear my boss scolding someone and then, there it is. The unmistakable voice of my notorious client, his brother. “Why is Ty here today?” I ask the room at large. They all shrug, but gather up their things as Tim opens the door in a huff.
“Juniper,” he growls, “Can you come into my office?” Shit. He doesn't know. This is about something else. Everything is fine.
I walk in the hall and wait for the Stags to go ahead, but Ty pulls off to the side of the hall. “After you, Ms. Jones.” He exaggerates his eye movements, dragging his gaze up and down my body, and I work very hard to maintain my composure.
"Mr. Stag," I say through gritted teeth, "Is there something I can help you with?"
His grandmother smacks him in the head, and I don’t hold back the laugh that escapes my throat. “Tyrion, don’t be a pig. Apologize right now.”
Tim shoves his brother against the wall. “At least have the grace to look smug about getting called out. I told you to behave yourself here.”
/>
Ty shoves him back, saying, “You’re just crabby because I flirted with your muffin chef.”
“I told you to leave her the hell alone, too!”
I leave the Stag brothers to squabble in the hall and take a seat in Tim’s office. Eventually they all come in, and Tim sits down.
“Juniper, ordinarily you wouldn’t have to be here for Ty to sign his playoff bonus contract, but I wanted to discuss a situation that has come up here with Stag Law.”
Ty grabs the contract, scribbles a signature, and gets up as if to leave, but Tim asks him to stick around. “As you know we manage all aspects of our clients’ legal needs, and--”
“Tim, spare us the boring part. Gram and I have lunch plans.”
Tim frowns. “You’ll hear later, I’m sure, that Jason Murdo was caught in a...situation.”
Ty’s eyebrows shoot up. “The baseball pitcher? What did he do?”
We all sigh, but Tim continues. “I’m going to be spearheading the situation with Murdo until we can resolve everything, and so that means I’m naming Juniper as our point person for all our NHL contracts.”
I feel my jaw drop. “Wow, Tim, that’s a huge gesture of trust from you.”
“I don’t anticipate this taking too long, but until it blows over, you’ll be traveling with the teams for their away games. Donna can set you up with all the details for the travel account.”
“Tim, I negotiated Friday flexibility as part of my salary with Stag Law. I have a regatta coming up and--”
“Juniper, you’ve got clients in the Stanley Cup finals and your company has another client facing prison. This is an extenuating circumstance, and you’ll be awarded comp time, obviously.”
Tim keeps talking and eventually shoos us out of his office so he can head down to the courthouse. I’m feeling stunned and disoriented again as I start walking with Ty and Mrs. Stag toward the elevators, not quite conscious of my actions, until Ty winks at me and says, “Don’t worry, Junebug. I’ll make sure we win each series in 4 games so this won’t take very long.”
