The Devil You Know: Devington Devils Hockey Romance

by Daphne Slade

  However reserved and sophisticated Grace is in all other areas of life, she certainly knows how to go wild when it comes to cheering for me.

  And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Noah

  I know better than to tell a woman to calm down, but Grace seriously needs to do just that.

  We arrived in Boston late in the morning on the day of Thanksgiving. Perhaps we shouldn’t have spent those first few hours at a coffee shop. Grace has been jittery and tense all day.

  Now, we’re in an Uber headed to her parents’ place.

  “You’re making it seem like we’re headed to the gulag,” I joke.

  “That might actually be preferable,” she says, then turns to give me a tight smile.

  “They’ll get over the news about medical school eventually. If it’s that big a deal, maybe it is better that you waited to tell them in person.”

  She hiccups a laugh. “That’s a nice thought, but we both know I’m just a scaredy-cat who decided to procrastinate. Besides,” she says, grabbing my arm and snuggling in closer. “It’s not me I’m worried about. I feel like I’m putting you through the gauntlet and we’ve only been dating for less than three months.”

  “Do you regret introducing me to them so early?” I ask, stiffening slightly.

  Me? I have no doubts whatsoever.

  “Noah,” she says, reaching one hand to my cheek and turning me to face her even more. “Not even a little. I love you.”

  Those words came surprisingly early on in the relationship. But each time she utters it, it feels like the first time.

  “Well then, no need to worry about me. I’d face far worse than this for you, Grace,” I say, touching her forehead with mine, “because I love you too.”

  That gorgeous mouth of hers spreads into a smile with enough carats to make the Hope Diamond jealous. I have no choice but to kiss it.

  Grace must instinctively sense when we are nearing her parents’ townhouse since she suddenly goes stiff against me and pulls away. She cranes her neck, looking out the window.

  I smile and shake my head, turning to look out my window. It’s an impressive neighborhood, the kind you see in Instagram photos just because of how picturesque they are. Most people have already started putting up Christmas decorations, but it’s a far cry from what I’m used to back home. No inflatable Santas and colorfully lit reindeer here. But the green wreaths with red bows and simple tiny white lights perfectly lining the windows and edges of the roofs are nice in their own way.

  “It’s the third one right ahead,” Grace instructs. I can hear the tension in her voice.

  The car stops in front of a four-story building with a large bay window on the second floor. In front, along the brick sidewalk is a small little yard surrounded by a short iron fence. It’s one of the few homes that isn’t yet decorated.

  “Welcome to Back Bay,” Grace breathes out, turning to me with a smile that almost seems genuine.

  I grin and exit first, coming around to open her door as usual before she can. This time, her smile truly is legitimate. She takes my hand as the driver pulls our bags. They’re just big enough to house two days’ worth of clothes. Grace insisted we would be returning to Devington first thing Saturday morning, and not just because I have a game this weekend.

  One thing I can say for her parents is that they aren’t the traditional sort who insisted we sleep in separate bedrooms while I’m here. Should make for an interesting holiday.

  That keeps the grin on my face as we walk up the steps.

  I can see through the open bay window on the second floor that we are one of the late arrivals. They celebrate dinner later than my family, who gets the festivities going by early afternoon, mostly because we all like to prep and cook as a family. Grace’s family gets theirs catered, she told me.

  As we walk up the steps, I see a young woman peeking out the bay window above to check us out. This must be one of Grace’s sisters, I can see the similarities. Her eyes land on me with curiosity and her brow rises, I suppose in approval.

  Grace’s eyes roll up to see her, and she breathes out a laugh when the woman gives her a thumbs up. “My younger sister, Eliza,” she says, giving a short wave. “The most normal of the bunch.”

  It takes a while for someone to head downstairs to answer the door after she presses the doorbell. The man who answers can only be her father. He has every bit of that professor persona down pat, even when dressed for the holiday. Studious glasses. V-neck sweater over a button-up shirt, top button undone. Pressed jeans. Loafers.

  “Grace,” he greets with a smile that’s half-warm, half-frank. His eyes slide to me, and the instant critique is written all over his face, as though I’m a specimen he’s studying. “And this must be Noah Donahue. The hockey player.”

  I note how that last bit comes out—as though he’s announcing that I’m an ex-convict; reformed, but still not quite acceptable—and interestingly enough, it only amuses me.

  “A bona fide Devil,” I say.

  His brow wrinkles with bewildered disapproval.

  Grace chuckles and secretly elbows my side. His gaze remains firmly glued to me, still filled with suspicion, as he does nothing more than reach out both hands to pat her on the shoulders. Some warm greeting there.

  He’s quick to shoot his hand out to me, just in case I get the absurd idea to hug him or something. A firm shake, just as Dad taught me, and that wrinkle in his brow softens ever so slightly.

  “So, what is it you’re involved in besides hockey, Noah?”

  “Mostly getting out of the cold, Dad,” Grace hints.

  “Yes, yes, of course,” he says, stepping aside to let us in.

  “We’re going to drop our bags off,” Grace continues before he begins the interrogation all over again once we’re inside.

  I grin as I pass him, and it stays on my face as we head up the stairs. The crowd on the second floor is already staring with curious anticipation as she quickly guides me further up with nothing more than a “we’ll be back in a second.”

  Once in her room, she lets out an audible sigh and drops to the bed.

  I take a moment to look around. It’s very nicely decorated, but a lot less homey than I would have expected from her. Her bedroom back at her Devington apartment is filled with white, lacy bedspreads and pillows, tiny lights strung overhead, and overstuffed bookshelves.

  “No, this isn’t how it was growing up,” Grace says, as though reading my mind. “Mom and Dad have done their best to make it clear I won’t be coming back to live with them after graduation. This is the ‘in case we have company’ room now.”

  I nod, giving her a half-smile of sympathy. “Should we go face the wolves? I’m happy to play the bait. So far it hasn’t been that bad.”

  She laughs and sits up. “I guess there’s no sense in dillydallying.”

  I reach out a hand and she leaps off the bed to take it. Before she can open the door, I pull her in close to me.

  “Hey, we’re a team now. Whatever you face, I’m there with you, got it?”

  Her eyes grow bigger, the way I love, and I’m almost certain she’s going to cry. Instead, she smiles. “You, Noah Donahue, are one amazing guy. I don’t care what any of them have to say about it. Let’s do this.”

  I can feel her verve come back as she opens the door and happily jogs me downstairs again.

  Her family is already facing our way expectantly. I am, after all, the new face here.

  “Everyone, this is my boyfriend, Noah Donahue,” Grace begins, her voice noticeably an octave higher than normal. She continues, introducing me to everyone: her parents, her sisters, her older sister’s boyfriend, Greg.

  “I was just inquiring about Noah’s other interests before Grace dragged him away,” her father says, turning to Grace’s mother. He turns back to me with a studious air. “Grace has already told us you’re on the hockey team.”

  He leaves the question hanging in
the air.

  I get it, hockey is off the table. Tough crowd indeed. However, I’m still amused by all of this.

  “Speaking of which, what exactly happened to Matt?” Grace and I both turn to Vanessa, her older sister, who looks on with a slight twist of amusement on her lips.

  That’s definitely one for Grace to answer.

  “I broke up with him,” Grace says in a matter-of-fact voice.

  “Why? I mean, he seemed so perfect, going to med school and all.” Her eyes slide to me and sparkle with mischief. “Isn’t it awkward dating another member of the hockey team?”

  Grace exhales heavily. “Matt is no longer on the team. In fact, he’s no longer at the school. He’s been expelled.”

  That causes an outburst of surprise, all of them inquiring as to the details.

  “It doesn’t matter!” Grace says in exasperation, a tight smile on her face. “Matt is out of the picture. I’m dating Noah now.”

  I note the glasses and bottles in everyone’s hands and use it as the perfect interjection. “How about a drink, Grace?”

  She turns to me and smiles in appreciation.

  “Yes, but you still haven’t explained—“

  I give Vanessa a smile and a hard look, shutting her up. “We’ll be right back.”

  In the kitchen, Grace closes her eyes and leans against the counter as I look over the options. “Wine or beer?”

  “Actually, I think I’ll have some of the brandy from the bar.”

  I laugh softly and turn my attention to the bar instead, deciding I’ll get a whiskey for myself as well.

  When we return, after Grace has had a few self-medicating sips, I decide to take over.

  “Mr. Arlington, you were asking about my hobbies. Well, hockey takes up most of my time which doesn’t leave room for much else. Though I do enjoy the occasional horror flick,” I say, turning to give Grace a conspiratorial smile.

  “When I say interests, I meant something more…intellectual perhaps?” He hints, raising one eyebrow.

  “Well,” I say, pausing to take a sip as though considering that. “Back home, that’s Milwaukee—“

  An instant crease of disapproval comes to both her parents’ brows

  “—my dad and I were into fixing cars—“

  Now, they’re noticeably frowning.

  “I own a ’67 Mustang, fully restored.”

  “Wow,” Eliza exclaims, looking at me with admiration.

  “Sweet,” Greg says, much to Vanessa’s displeasure. “Did you drive it up here?”

  “No, but maybe next year?” I turn to Grace with a grin. She’s buried herself into her glass but I see her lips smile around the rim.

  “It’s quite obvious that you’re dancing around the subject, young man,” her mother says with pursed lips. “Perhaps you could tell us your major? Your plans for a career? Something that's relevant?”

  “I’m an Econ major, but I kind of fell into that because it’s an interesting subject.”

  They seem slightly relieved at that.

  “And what do you plan on doing with an economics degree?” her father asks. “Investment banking perhaps? It’s not the most savory profession but at least—“

  “He’s going to play professional hockey,” Grace blurts out.

  That stuns both of them into silence, looks of confusion and horror on their faces as they stare at her, then me.

  “Yes, for the NHL. A professional hockey player,” she says adamantly, with a broad, unwavering, thousand-carat smile on her face. She turns to me and it grows larger than life. “Because he’s just that good, amazing in fact. I’ve never seen someone so brilliant on the ice.”

  As if I could love her any more.

  My ego is firmly at ease, but I know it took a lot for her to speak on my behalf.

  “Awesome,” Eliza says with a laugh. I’m not sure if she’s impressed with my future profession or the nuclear bomb Grace just dropped.

  “Seriously, dude? That’s fantastic. Which team?” Greg asks with that same fascination I typically get from fans. Vanessa doesn’t seem amused by either of us.

  “Well, I’m hoping—“

  “Now just one second,” her mother says, coughing to interrupt. “Hockey? Professionally? Have you seen the sorts of people involved with hockey?”

  “You seem awfully certain of your prospects, young man. What happens if you don’t make it to the NHL? You’ll open up a garage in Milwaukee to fix cars or something?” Her father asks, looking grim.

  “The bigger question is why you would waste a degree from someplace like Devington?” Her mother asks. “Granted it isn’t Harvard, but you’re flushing a quality education down the toilet.”

  “Furthermore why would a medically trained doctor—a Harvard-educated doctor—want to be married to a hockey player?” Her father continues.

  “Hopefully Harvard educated,” Vanessa chimes in with a smirk.

  I have no idea which question to begin with. Grace certainly had a point about her family. I do feel like I’ve been run through a gauntlet. I get being protective of their daughter but this just seems like they’re making a series of low punches.

  I’m just about to open my mouth to address their concerns in the most civil way possible when Grace beats me to the punch, having finished her brandy.

  “About that doctor thing,” she begins, no longer nervous or tense. “I’m not going to medical school. Let’s eat!”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Grace

  We’re finally at the table eating, mostly because I’ve led the family here like the Pied Piper, all of them dancing after me with their questions.

  Noah sits next to me holding back a smile. I should have known this wouldn’t faze him. Matt was practically a puddle by this time during his first Thanksgiving with the Arlingtons.

  At the very least, I’ve served to take the heat away from him.

  “What is it you plan on doing with your degree? The one your father and I spent years saving up for, I might add.”

  “And I shall be eternally grateful for that, mother,” I say, flashing her a smile as I pile garlic mashed potatoes onto my plate.

  “Don’t get smart young lady,” Dad admonishes. “Your mother asked a question.”

  “Teaching,” I say, reaching for the cranberry sauce.

  “A professor? With a literature degree? Do you have any idea how difficult it is to enter academia, let alone at any college or university worth teaching at?”

  “And don’t think your father and I are going to pay for graduate school. At least with medicine or law, there’s a hopeful career in the future, but literature—“

  “I was thinking more along the lines of high school, maybe middle school? I’ve already talked with career services to see what the qualifications are. Can you pass the green bean casserole?”

  “What?” both my parents exclaim in horror.

  Vanessa snickers. Eliza, as usual, is just sitting back eating it up.

  “The utter waste,” My mother moans, shaking her head.

  “Teaching is a very laudable career for some, Grace. Obviously, your mother and I aren’t denigrating the profession.”

  “Is that so?” I say, giving him a skeptical look.

  “But you are an Arlington. You’ve been given more advantages in life than most. As such, you should be aiming at least a little bit higher than some public school in God knows where.”

  “Hmm,” I say, cutting into my turkey.

  “Don’t dismiss your father, Grace. This is your future, we’re talking about. If you think we’re going to be there as a safety net when you realize you aren’t cut out for teaching, you can think again.”

  “Duly noted.”

  “Don’t get smart with your mother,” Dad says.

  “Sorry, Mom.”

  “I’m well aware of sarcasm when I hear it, young lady.”

  “Sorry, Mom,” I repeat.

  “Grace, this isn’t productive. You come back home a
nd drop this bomb, and expect us to sit idly by and accept it. And, not to be critical Noah, but a professional hockey player? It isn’t ideal.”

  I rest my fork down and close my eyes, taking a deep breath. When I release it, I open my eyes, rounding the table to eye each of them. I settle on Mom, then Dad each at the head of the table.

  “Mom? Dad? I love you both. And yes, I am very grateful that you have kept me from being burdened with student loan debt. That said, I’m an adult and this is my life. I love Noah and he’s my boyfriend. I expect you to respect that.” I turn to him with a grateful smile at how well he’s handling this. “I don’t know where it’s going but I’d be proud to end up next to his side when he becomes a professional hockey player.” I turn to face Dad. “Or if he ends up working in a garage.”

  “Grace, really—“

  “No, no, I’m not done,” I say, holding up a hand. “As for my career, I’m doing something that I want, something that….nourishes me.”

  Their reactions say it all. I might as well have told them I’m relying on magic crystals or tarot cards to determine my future.

  I soldier on.

  “And the idea of teaching does just that, it nourishes me. I hated science. I hated medicine. I hated interning at the hospital.” Mom gasps aloud. “Sorry, Mom, but I did.”

  I turn to Noah, who stares at me, encouraging me with a grin.

  I turn back to my family. “As for where I’ll end up, it may be Chicago or Minneapolis so, there’s that. I have a pretty good feeling about it.”

  Noah reaches a hand out to me under the table and squeezes, making me smile.

  Dinner is finally over, Mom and Dad still irate and disappointed with my choices in life. Vanessa is smugly appeased that she’s still the golden child. I haven’t been excommunicated from the family, which I honestly half-expected. I’m sure they are already planning their arguments to wear me down over the next few days. Hence my insistence on leaving Saturday.