“Lewis. How are you doing?” he asked, waving me in. His eyes raked over me, likely noting the shadows under my eyes that make-up hadn’t been able to hide.
“I’m . . .” I took a seat, sighing. “I need to speak with you.”
He set down the pen in his hand, leaning back in his chair. “I’m listening.”
“I would like you to schedule a transfer,” I said. “To another team.”
His brow pinched together, that vein in his forehead threatening to throb. “Did one of my guys do something?” he asked, a growl in his tone.
“No,” I said quickly. “The Sharks is the best team I’ve ever worked with.” The honest truth, even without Bentley, these guys . . . they were good men.
“Then why would you want to leave us?” He tilted his head. “You’ve done incredible work with Gentry, and even Rogers accredits his improvement to your extra training.”
I couldn’t control the blush that crept up my neck. I had showed him a few moves on the ice, but it was our moves between the sheets, in secret, that made my heart race.
“I’m happy I could help them. But there is more,” I said, wringing my hands. “Last night . . . that fight Bentley and Archer got into . . .” I sighed, forcing myself to look Coach in the eye. “It was my fault.”
He blinked, slowly.
“Archer and I had a relationship in Canada. All on the level with HR. But it went bad. I left in part because of him, in another because my mom needed me here,” I explained. “And Bentley . . . we met in kindergarten.”
Coach’s eyebrows raised.
I bit my lip, hoping I wasn’t about to damn Bentley in the process. “I’ve loved him my entire life. He had no idea I was transferring to the Sharks. No idea I’d be back in his life. And I had no intention of causing any trouble, sir, I promise. I love my job. Love this team and the players like they were my own family.” A knot formed in my throat, but I spoke around it. “Which is why I want the transfer. I would never stay knowing I’m causing a rift. And Bentley . . . his instincts will always be to protect me.”
Coach was silent for so many breaths before he shifted in his seat, his elbows on his desk as he looked me over.
“Are you two an item?”
Such a dangerous question.
Luckily, one I could answer with absolute honesty.
“No. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love him. Because I do. And there was a time I thought I could be with him and do my job.” A dark chuckle left my lips. “But you can’t really have your cake and eat it, too.”
“This is what you really want? To leave?” He tilted his head. “You know you’ll lose your bonus for not completing the entire season.”
“I know.” I nodded. “I want what is best for Bent—” I stopped myself. Tried again. “For this team.”
He pursed his lips, shaking his head. “We’ll hate to lose you, Lewis,” he said. “But I’ll make some calls.”
I stood, as did he, and I shook his hand. “Thank you, sir. For the incredible opportunity.”
“I’ll have news to you by the end of the day,” he said, and I smiled, holding back the tears, and spun to leave.
Pausing at the locker room exit, I glanced behind me, a sense of longing and loss swirling inside me. I’d be back to pack my things—once I was certain Coach had made the transfer—but right now, staring at the empty quiet of the room . . . it felt so final.
And it stripped me raw.
I had no second thoughts when I’d left Ontario. Sure, I’d enjoyed working for the team, but Archer had made me miserable enough that I celebrated leaving—breaking free.
This . . . this was another form of heartbreak.
Because the Sharks—Rory and Gage and Warren.
Paige and Bailey and Jeannine.
Bentley.
I’d thought I found my home here.
But in reality, I’d been an intruder.
A stranger dropping in only to muck up their routine.
I needed to leave just as quickly.
So maybe, Bentley could find his place again.
And forget about the trouble I’d brought to his world.
Chapter 21
Bentley
“Okay.” Gage had his cell pressed to his ear where he sat across from me at the diner. Warren next to him, Rory on my right. “I understand,” he said, his voice soft, the tone he used only with Bailey.
I tried not to be jealous.
Of them all.
But it was hard as hell not to want what they had. The simplicity of being with the person you love—it shouldn’t be so fucking hard, right?
Chloe and I had loved each other for most our lives.
And yet the world was determined to throw every obstacle in our path.
Timing never right.
Circumstances never lining up.
“Yeah,” he said, glancing at me as I picked at my eggs. “I’ll tell him.”
Warren had his eyes glued to his cell, fingers flying as he texted someone.
Everybody had business to attend to this morning.
Everyone but me.
I’d pulled out my phone to call Chloe a dozen times last night, but I’d never made the call. After everything that had happened, I knew if she wanted to confide in me, she would. And since we’d agreed, somewhat silently, to stop seeing each other in secret, I didn’t want to be the one to make her cross that line again.
Even if all I wanted was answers.
That’s not true.
No, I wanted so much more than that. Things I knew I couldn’t have.
Wanted to hold her in the open, go on visits with her to see her mom.
Wanted to listen to her unload the darkness of her past, wanted to kiss it away until she glowed bright again.
But I couldn’t.
“Bentley,” Gage said, snapping me out of my fucking pity party.
“What’s up?” I asked, eyeing the way his brow furrowed.
“It’s—”
“Rogers,” Coach suddenly called out.
Rory and I jumped at the sight of him at our table.
Warren was the only one who didn’t seem surprised as he flashed me an apologetic look.
“Coach?” I asked as he tugged a chair up to the edge of the table before sitting in it.
“Don’t be pissed,” he said. “I asked Kinley if he knew where you were. You weren’t answering your cell.”
I fished out my cell, noticing it was dead. Fuck, I hadn’t charged it at Gage’s last night. Too much shit on my mind.
I swallowed hard, bracing myself for whatever bomb Coach was about to drop on me. It couldn’t be good, not if he sought me out at fucking lunch.
“Sir?” I asked, wanting him to get it over with.
At least if you’re fired you can be with Chloe.
The relief that sighed within me was both shocking and not.
I loved my team. Loved my job. But Chloe . . .
“I need to talk to you about Lewis.”
Fuck. My. Life.
“What about her, sir?”
He flashed me a knowing look.
I locked my jaw, giving nothing away. I would not put her at risk.
“She requested a transfer,” he said.
I instantly shook my head. “No she didn’t.”
“She did,” he said. “Not thirty minutes ago.”
My eyes flashed to the guys, stopping on Gage.
“It’s true,” Gage said. “I was about to tell you. Bailey called and . . .” He didn’t need to finish the end of that sentence. I saw it in his eyes.
“Why?”
“Apparently, she feels responsible for last night’s events,” Coach said and arched a brow at me. “She told me about her history with Archer . . . and her history with you.”
My heart thudded hard against my chest.
If she requested a transfer, that meant no bonus. She’d lose her mom’s place within the month.
“Went on to say you two wer
en’t an item, but it didn’t matter. She’d always be a trigger for you. A distraction,” Coach said. “Said she loved the Sharks like family, which is why she wouldn’t dare stick around since she was causing the team so many problems.”
My lips parted, shock and denial swarming me.
Chloe—again—sacrificing her own happiness in order to keep me with my dream.
How could she not see?
“Where are you transferring her?” I asked, hating that I needed to know how far she’d be from me now.
“I haven’t decided yet,” Coach said. “I’ve plenty in mind who would take her.” He shrugged. “But I like her. I don’t want to give her up that easy.”
That made two of us.
“So, here I am.” He eyed me.
“I’m not following, sir.”
He huffed. “I want to know if you’ll get your head out of your ass and be on the level with me.”
I gaped at him, then looked to the guys for help.
Rory just nodded at me like it was time.
A deep, decades-long sigh released from my lips. “The truth, Coach . . . is that I’ve loved her my whole life. I’ll always love her. And I want to be with her.”
He narrowed his gaze. “Enough to leave this team?”
The crack in my chest fissured, deep and vast.
I pushed past it.
“The Sharks are my life, sir. All I’ve ever wanted to do was be on this team. To play professionally. To one day be a starter.” I flashed an apologetic look to Gage, which he waved off. “I don’t want to choose, Coach,” I said, sighing. “But if I had to, then yes. I would choose her. Every time.”
Warren’s eyebrows went up. Being the one closest to Coach, I think he feared Coach would come across the table and slug me for such blasphemy.
But he’d wanted the truth. And I’d never been more sure of anything.
I loved my family. But I loved her more.
And I was tired of living without her.
“I thought as much,” Coach said, nodding.
Warren’s shoulders dropped at the easiness in Coach’s tone.
“Well,” Coach continued, “lucky for you, you don’t have to choose.”
“Sir?”
He shook his head. “I’m taking my responsibility in this. When we hired her . . . I said she was off-limits because I wanted to protect her professional time here. Wanted her to be comfortable. Didn’t want to deal with any heartbreak.” He looked at me pointedly. “I told her the same thing. That you all were off-limits, too. Didn’t want her crushing one of you either. But I didn’t know your history,” he said with a sigh. “Didn’t know it would hurt you, make you hide from me.”
When he didn’t continue, I asked, “Wait . . . so are you transferring her?”
He pushed out a slow breath. “I have to make the calls and start the paperwork because she filed it with me personally.”
Before my brain had time to register his words and turn them into pain, he was pointing at me.
“I need you to swear to me, Rogers,” he demanded. “Swear to me having her here won’t be an issue. No more fights. You won’t lose your shit if she has to examine a player with a groin tear, you feel me?”
I swallowed around the hope in my throat, not allowing myself to believe as I nodded rapidly.
“I need to hear you say it, son.”
“I swear,” I said. “It won’t affect my game.”
“Oh, it’s already affected your game . . . for the better.” Coach chuckled. “Ever since she came along, you’ve played harder, better. And I know it doesn’t all have to do with her lessons.”
The guys laughed.
Coach leaned back in his seat and nodded. “I’m giving you this approval. You have twenty-four hours to see if you can change her mind—to get her to withdraw the request. Give her a reason to stay.”
I sat there, stunned.
Waiting for the axe to drop. Waiting for Coach to laugh and say he was kidding. That I was fired and Chloe was fired and that I’d cost her everything.
Gage kicked me under the table.
“Ow, dick,” I hissed, rubbing my shin.
“Get your head out of your ass.”
“Right,” I said, blinking as I scooted away from the table.
“Twenty-four hours,” Coach reminded me.
The day.
I had the day to change her mind.
Standing, I glanced at the guys.
“What do you need from us?” Warren asked.
A smirk shaped my lips as an idea took shape in my mind.
It was insanity, but I knew nothing less would be good enough.
Like the team we were, I relayed what I needed from them and we broke apart, springing into action.
I gripped Coach’s hand, resisting the urge to kiss him for the gift he’d given me—my freedom to ask Chloe to be mine.
“Thank you,” I said.
He grunted. “Don’t make me regret this.”
“I won’t.”
I hurried out the door, waving to the guys, trusting them with one of the most important parts of my plan.
Knowing they’d deliver.
Now, I just had to hope like hell I could.
Chapter 22
Chloe
Mom sat by her window, a fresh canvas before her as she stared at the flowers in the garden. The wheels turning behind her eyes as she mentally sketched where to start.
So lucid, so beautiful.
It broke my heart.
Coach had yet to text me any news, and I was starting to think no one would ever hire me after transferring from two teams. It’d only been a couple hours though, so I tried to hold on to hope.
Losing my bonus was astronomical.
But I was determined to keep Mom here.
Where she was happy and healthy.
Where she sometimes recognized me.
Maybe I could get a loan to cover me the next few months while I transitioned.
Then I could pay the loan back while maintaining payments here—I could get a smaller place. Cut back on costs. Maybe somehow set up a camp and make money on the side.
I’d make it work.
Do whatever it took to keep Mom here and to keep Bentley on the Sharks.
Solidified in my choices, I walked into her room, sitting quietly as to not interrupt her train of thought.
Five minutes passed before she saw me.
“Hello,” I said.
“Hi, Chloe,” she said, like she’d been expecting me. Like we saw each other all the time. “I’m thinking of using a more orangish-yellow for those daffodils, she said, pointing out the window. “What do you think?”
I thought my heart would burst at how easily she spoke to me . . . really me.
“I think that’s a perfect idea,” I said, trying not to let my voice crack.
Her lucidity only further assured my choices in doing whatever it took to keep her here. Even going into massive debt. It would be hard, but I would make it happen. Because this was beyond worth it.
We sat like that, in easy conversation for forty-five solid minutes as she painted. She knew me, missed me, loved me. Her brush on the canvas seemed to ground her in the present, in this reality she now clung to.
I hadn’t gotten this much time in so long.
And while it was so wonderful, it hurt ten times worse when I saw the shift.
I knew it was coming.
Had been expecting it every second we spoke.
But, as bittersweet as it was, hope filled my heart.
Because we’d been given this much time . . . who knew how much we’d get tomorrow?
“I must be going,” I said when I saw that flicker of confusion flash in her eyes, her brush pausing on the canvas. “Thank you so much for letting me watch you paint.”
“Of course. Thanks for sending that Shark to see me today,” she added when I’d made it to her door.
“What?” I asked.
“That handsom
e one,” she called over her shoulder. “Such a nice boy. We talked for an hour. He brought me these new paints.”
Tears pricked my eyes, right alongside the confusion. Unsure if it really happened or if she was remembering another time. She hadn’t mentioned Bentley when she was lucid.
“I’m so glad,” I said, but she was already engrossed in her painting again.
I stepped into the hallway, taking deep breaths to right my mind as I approached the front desk.
“Ms. Lewis.” The receptionist beamed at me, much more excited to talk bills than I was. “What can I do for you?”
“I wanted to see if I could get an estimated projection for the next three months’ payments.” I pinched my brow, the headache I’d kept at bay now fully formed behind my eyes. “I know I’m on autopay,” I continued, “but I’m having some career adjustments and need to double check every inch of my budget.”
“Oh,” she said, smiling up at me. “I was going to tell you before you left today . . .”
My heart froze, waiting for her to deliver some awful news—that my bill was rising again or that John would no longer be Mom’s nurse.
“Your mother’s accounts have been paid up for the next year.”
“What?” I gasped, shaking my head. “No, there’s been some sort of mistake. I didn’t approve that . . .”
Her eyes flashed over my shoulder, and I spun around.
“Bentley.” His name came out on a whimper as my eyes landed on him, standing there looking glorious in a black shirt and jeans, a sheepish smile on his lips.
For a moment, I didn’t connect the dots, so lost in the surprise of his presence.
Then my eyes widened.
“Wait,” I said, stepping toward him. “You did this?”
He nodded.
I gaped at him, unbelieving.
I’d known he was wealthy—sponsorships and everything—but I didn’t realize just how well off he was.
“I can’t accept this,” I said, realizing how big of a gift he was trying to give me. “I’m grateful for the gesture, Bent, but I can’t take it.”
“Sure you can,” he said, breeching the distance between us, his hand on my cheek. He sighed, glancing down from where he towered over me. “Chloe, why would you put in a transfer.”
Rookie Page 17
