Baden, page 24
Given Stone’s brother was on that plane, if anyone has the right to have fucked-up feelings, it’s him.
“What’s the deal with Stone?” I ask as we watch him disappear into the elevator.
“Completely dissociating from the team. He goes out on the ice, does his job, and then he’s done. To my knowledge, he’s not developed any personal relationships, although lord knows, I’ve tried.”
“It’s got to be tough. Losing his brother in the crash and then being called up to join the team.”
Gage leans toward me and lowers his voice. “I don’t know this personally, but word is that he really didn’t have a relationship with his brother. I think there was some bad blood between them when Stone got sent down to the minors.”
“That was just bad luck, though.” His trajectory got sidetracked by an injury that landed him bouncing between the minors and the professional league while Brooks’s star continued to rise higher and higher.
Stone has been playing to near perfection since being called up. Maybe he’s trying to prove something to his brother’s ghost.
Maybe he can’t handle that Brooks is dead if there were hard feelings between them.
Going back to my experience with Riggs, there’s probably a bunch of shit brewing with him, and he’s got no outlet for it. He’s on a new team with people he doesn’t know.
“Maybe I should reach out to him.”
“I would suggest something small,” Gage says with a stoic expression. “Maybe a gathering of just a few players for dinner or something.”
“That’s a good idea. You up to help play Papa Bear with me?” I ask.
“Sure thing,” he says.
I stand from the chair, picking up my peppermint tea, which is still too hot to sip. “I’ll get with Sophie and we’ll figure out a good night soon. But for now, I need to take these meds and go to bed so this crud will go away.”
Gage stands too, and we walk to the elevator. “How’s it going with Sophie?”
It’s no secret to the team who Sophie is. I’ve mentioned her enough to other players, especially after we stayed behind in Phoenix to give our victim impact statements. They knew I flew with her, and I’m sure conclusions have been drawn.
But this is the first time one of the players has asked me point-blank the status of my relationship with her, and I find myself happy to tell someone the truth.
“She’s amazing,” I say as Gage presses the elevator button. “I still can’t understand how something so awful happened, and yet it led me to one of the best things that has ever happened to me.”
Gage’s smile curves deep. “So it’s that way between you two, huh?”
“Yeah,” I reply as we step in. “It’s that way and more.”
“I’m happy for you, man.” Gage reaches forward and hits the button for the third floor. Same floor as me.
“What about you? Anyone special?”
Gage shakes his head. “Nah. Right one hasn’t come along, I guess.”
“It will happen when you least expect it,” I assure him. “Trust me on that.”
♦
After Gage and I part ways, I go about trying to cure myself of this crud. I can feel it settling into my chest, so I drink some of the peppermint tea while I run a hot shower. Before stepping in, I down some Tylenol and Mucinex without bothering to see if they can be taken together, but I’m too tired to bother looking.
The shower makes me feel better, and I’m exhausted by the time I crawl into bed. The last thing I do before sleep is send Sophie a message.
I know you’re asleep, but I can’t wait to see you in a few days.
I want to add the words I love you, but that’s not something you should say for the first time via text message. It has to be done in person, preferably in a romantic setting. Maybe after we make love? Or over morning coffee—in a spontaneous declaration she won’t see coming.
Yeah, something like that.
Catch her off guard, although I trust Sophie enough… I’m confident she’ll say it back no matter when I decide to tell her.
CHAPTER 26
Baden
My phone alarm brings me out of a dead sleep, and I slap at it with extreme precision, managing to shut it off without pressing snooze.
I’m not a snooze kind of guy. When it’s time to get up, it’s time to get up.
Of course, I hesitantly open one eye and take stock of how I feel.
Last night, I was pretty crummy when I went to sleep, and I allowed myself the luxury of sleeping in this morning until eight thirty as the team has nothing on the practice agenda except a light skate this afternoon.
Overall, I don’t feel like death warmed over anymore. My sinuses are a little stuffed, but I’m well rested. Maybe the Mucinex was the miracle drug.
I snag my phone, intending to call Sophie, when someone knocks on my door.
With a regrettable sigh, I toss the phone onto the bed and swing my legs out. I always sleep in shorts, but I have no clue who’s standing there, so I grab a T-shirt from my suitcase. I have it over my head and pulled down before I look through the peephole.
I open the door. Gage stands there looking distressed.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“You feeling okay?”
I frown, because I know damn well he didn’t come down here to ask me that. He could’ve easily texted. “Yeah… why?”
Gage scrubs his hand through his hair and grimaces. “Coen’s in jail.”
“What?” I exclaim.
Nodding, distaste written all over his face, he explains, “He just called me. Charged with drunk and disorderly, apparently. Wants me to bail him out. I figured I better come tell you first, given what we talked about last night.”
And the fact that there’s no telling how Keller will handle this.
“Christ,” I grumble, thinking hard what to do. Finally, I say, “Give me fifteen minutes to shower, and I’ll go with you. That will at least let me assess the situation, and then we can decide how to break it to Keller.”
“We’re going to tell Keller?” Gage asks dubiously.
“Going to have to. There’s no way this isn’t making the news.”
“Shit,” Gage growls. “I hadn’t thought about that.”
“I’ll meet you in the lobby,” I say, and Gage nods. I close the door as he walks away, and I head into the bathroom to start the shower. I’m not sure how life as a goalie coach got so complicated, but here I am.
And oddly, I don’t mind. If I can help the players in ways that might be a little outside my job description, then I’m going to do it. I won’t cross Keller, though. This is something I’d never think to keep from him. I just don’t want him being the one to bail Coen out. That could be a bomb ready to go off if he says the wrong thing to his player.
Not that he doesn’t need an ass-chewing. Coen completely does, but it needs to be done in a constructive manner. Otherwise, a very good player could be ruined. It’s one of the benefits of understanding athlete psyche as a goalie. I can relate to it so much.
The water warms up to my liking, and I just start to peel off my T-shirt when there’s another knock on the door. I pull my shirt back down and exit the bathroom.
Glancing through the peephole, I see it’s Gage again. This time, Matt Keller is with him.
Just great.
I open the door, and Coach Keller storms past me, Gage following. My eyes are questioning… did you tell him?
Gage gives a short shake of his head.
I look back as Keller grabs the remote from the nightstand and points it at the TV. “Can you believe this shit?” he growls as he waits for the TV to fire up.
Another questioning look at Gage, and he nods toward the TV.
I move beside Keller and he flips to ESPN, then tosses the remote on the bed.
On the screen is footage of Stone and Coen walking out of a police precinct. A scrolling banner underneath reads, “Titans captain arrested for drunk and disorderly. Bailed out by teammate.”
My gaze snaps to Gage, who still stands near the door. “What the hell?”
He shrugs. “Guess Coen called more than just me to come bail him out. Apparently, Stone is faster. But since it hit the news, seems the whole team is aware.”
I appreciate Gage not letting on that we’d both planned to go bail out Coen, as Keller would probably take that as a betrayal, even though I was going to tell him as soon as we got back.
“The whole fucking world knows about it!” Keller yells. “What was that asshole thinking?”
“There’s been a lot of pressure on—” I start.
Keller whirls on me, pointing an accusatory finger. “Don’t you dare defend those actions.”
“I wasn’t,” I snap. “If you’d give me a minute, I was going to suggest—that’s the best way to spin it to the press. Obviously, there has to be consequences for his behavior.”
That seems to settle Keller, but then I add, “However, I think a measured, calm approach with Coen is called for. Going in hot and angry will be counterproductive.”
“Don’t tell me how to handle my players,” Keller snarls, and then stomps past both me and Gage to exit. “I’m going to call Callum.”
“Jesus,” I mutter, rubbing my jaw.
“He’s getting ready to throw that match on gasoline,” Gage mutters.
“I’m glad he’s calling Callum,” I muse, switching off the TV. “He won’t let things get out of hand.”
“If it does, it could blow this whole team apart.” Gage moves toward the door. “I’m going to talk to the other players, try to level some perspective on this until we find out exactly what happened. I don’t want those guys guessing and making assumptions.”
“I’ll be down as soon as I shower.”
Gage leaves, closing the door behind him.
I pace back and forth a bit, trying to determine what exactly I should do. Should I go talk to Keller to calm him down or leave it up to Callum? Maybe I should call Brienne?
Maybe I should stay out of it. I’m a goalie coach, after all. However, that doesn’t seem like the right answer.
I should call Sophie and get her take, but the shower is running, and I said I’d come down and talk to the players with Gage. With a sigh, I move toward the bathroom.
Once again, someone knocks on my door.
Figuring it’s just Gage with something he forgot to tell me, I open the door without looking.
And I’m stunned to see Sophie standing there with a rolling suitcase.
Her eyes rove over me critically, paying special attention to my face. She steps over the threshold and doesn’t hug or kiss me but rather puts a palm to my forehead. “You’re not running a fever. That’s good.”
I’m speechless. She moves past without another word, and I take a moment before shutting the door to look out in the hall. Sophie is here in New York, and I can’t believe she’d come alone. There’s no one out there, so I suspect maybe Frankie’s down in the lobby.
Maybe her parents?
Sophie dumps the suitcase near the dresser and peruses the medicine on the bedside table, nodding in approval. “Would have totally suggested the same, but we need to get you some zinc. That will help knock the crud out of you.”
I finally shake out of my disbelief and ask, “What are you doing here?”
Sophie turns and smiles brightly as she removes her coat. “You didn’t think I’d let you be sick all alone, did you?”
I’m so confused. I glance back at the door, then to Sophie. “You came to New York because I told you yesterday I wasn’t feeling well?”
“You were feverish, chills, sore throat, and you had a cough. That could easily become something bad. Of course, I came.”
“It’s a cold, Sophie. That’s it.”
“But I didn’t know that then, did I?” she replies pertly.
“So you… got on a plane and flew here to check on me?” I’m agog with possibility. “Did Frankie come with you?”
Sophie’s expression clouds over and then her eyes flare as if she’s surprised. “You know… I didn’t even think once about asking her to come. Or one of my parents. You were sick, I was afraid it would get worse and you wouldn’t take care of yourself, so I packed a bag and hit the airport. They had a flight out at five a.m.”
It sinks in, and I feel like I’ve been bowled over with the realization.
Sophie just traveled by herself to New York City to check on me.
“I have a cold,” I repeat dully, trying to comprehend why she would do that. And then a wave of euphoria and pride and wonderment crashes through me. My voice is a little too loud. “Holy fuck, Sophie, you came to New York and I have nothing but a cold!”
She put aside all her fears… for me.
And all I have is a cold.
I start for her, intent on picking her up and swinging her around in glee, but a distressed frown pinches her face.
“Oh my God,” she whispers apologetically. “Am I being overbearing? Too clingy? Was this stupid? Did I embarrass you?”
Fuck, she’s cute.
I lunge at her, wrapping my arms around her tight. I swing her around once, twice, three times before twisting to bring both of us down on the bed. She shrieks and then laughs as I land halfway on top of her. Before she can protest, I’m kissing her with every bit of passion I can muster.
She’s simply amazing.
When I lift my head, Sophie beams up at me. “So it’s okay that I’m here?”
“It’s monumental, Sophie. Just the other day, you couldn’t walk out of a grocery store, and now you’re braving the mean streets of New York to get to me. I’m fucking in awe.”
“Well”—she sniffs, a prim tone to her voice—“you are far more important than shepherd’s pie.”
I laugh before kissing her hard. “I hate you came all this way for nothing. I’m feeling much better.”
Sophie shrugs. “No biggie. I can head back on the next flight.”
I kiss her again, harder yet, because she’s unbelievable. “You’re not flying anywhere. You’re going to stay and come to the game tomorrow.”
Her arms encircle my neck. “Are you sure that’s okay?”
I snort. “Sophie… do you realize what you’ve done?”
Once again, her eyes cloud with confusion. “No… what?”
“You got on a plane. By yourself. Which means you drove to the airport and parked, or you Ubered, both of which cause you distress. You navigated New York City by yourself to get to this hotel. You braved the world to come check on me, and all I have is a stupid cold. You crazy girl, what possessed you to do such a thing?”
Sophie’s eyes soften, her head tipped slightly downward in what might be considered a bit of shyness. “I came because I love you, and that’s more important than anything. No fear could ever hold me back from getting to you.”
The breath is knocked clean out of me. This is something so shattering to my world, I can’t take it lying down. I push up off the bed, hauling Sophie with me.
My hands go to her face. “You love me?”
“I do,” she replies breathlessly. “Although you’re more than I could ever deserve, my heart belongs to you.”
“Why would you say such a thing?” I reprimand before kissing her. “You totally deserve me.”
Sophie giggles, and I kiss her one more time. When I pull back, I keep my face close to hers. “I love you, Sophie. Somehow you’re my destiny, and I’m right where I’m supposed to be. Knowing that you would be my end prize, I’d step in and save you a thousand times out of a thousand. I’d go through pain over and over if it meant I got you in the end.”
Okay… too much.
Sophie starts crying, and while I know they’re tears of happiness, I also know my declaration brings up heavy memories that have caused her guilt and pain in the past.
“You’re mine, Sophie. You always have been, just as I’ve always been yours. We are meant to be.”
She nods as I wipe tears from her cheeks. “I hate what you went through. I hate what you lost. But I can’t help but be glad how it all turned out.”
This time it’s Sophie who leans into me, placing her mouth on mine for a soft kiss full of tenderness, hope, and promise.
When she pulls away, I’m slightly dazed. Maybe it’s still partly the head cold or maybe it’s because knowing that Sophie loves me feels like getting hit by a ton of bricks—in the best possible way—but I’m dizzy with emotion and what this all means.
It means… I’ve found the one.
She’s my forever.
Dropping my hands from her face, I wrap my arms around her and draw her in. I hold her, smelling her hair and committing this all to memory.
The first day of my new life.
“You have to meet my parents,” Sophie says.
“And you have to meet mine,” I say, thinking of all the things we have ahead of us. “Should we get a bigger place, or do you want to stay in your house?” Before she can answer, I exclaim, “I’ll buy us an old Victorian, and you can remodel it.”
Sophie laughs. “So much to decide, but we have all the time in the world.” She glances back at the bed, and then turns her eyes to me with a seductive rasp to her voice. “We could celebrate these new declarations in bed.”
Fuck yeah. Head cold be damned. I start to walk her back to the mattress, but then immediately stop. “Shit,” I growl. “We can’t. I’ve got to go handle some shit. Coen Highsmith got arrested, and it’s on the news.”
“Oh, wow,” she murmurs. “Well, um… are you sure I should stay?”
“You must stay,” I reply, brushing my lips over her knuckles. “One simply doesn’t exchange I love you’s and then fly back to Pittsburgh.”
“Okay… I’ll wait—”
I pivot toward the bathroom and tug her along. “You’ll take a shower with me.”
