by Nana Malone
Holy fuck. He’d done far better than he’d ever imagined. He’d mostly hoped to keep from embarrassing himself in net. Maybe pull off enough blocked shots to help the team win. But a shutout… As he headed back off the ice to go down the tunnel to the locker room, he spotted his parents, grandparents, Echo, Cole, Dax, and Asha in a private box waving and cheering.
Flashes from cameras and shouts from fans followed him as he left the ice. Voices echoed through the concrete halls leading out from the locker room, and he heard his name tossing about in the mix. Coach Tremblay stopped him just inside the locker-room door to shake his hand.
“You did great out there, Coulter. Head office is already working on formalizing an offer for you for that second spot. Keep a watch out for a call from your agent. Oh, and uh, it might come up at the press conference. Shower quick. They’re going to want to talk to you.”
Standing in the stream of hot water, Fox’s mind returned once more to Sasha. He felt numb. He should be excited about the contract he was going to be offered and feeling more secure. He wasn’t going to be going back down to the farm system any time soon. And what’s more, he hadn’t just been decent in his first home game, he’d dominated the net. The only person he wanted to call was Sasha. She was the only person he could trust to be properly excited by the news. But the lingering disappointment in her left him feeling cold with a pit in his stomach. He failed at convincing himself it was just nerves for the press conference, instead, giving himself actual nerves. Would any of them ask questions about Sasha’s piece? It had been circulating for more than a full day now, and there was certainly evidence to point to him as the source of inspiration.
He turned off the water and shook his head to clear it, then ran his hands through his hair to squeeze out the extra water. Maybe he was being too harsh on her. She hadn’t mentioned him by name, and it would take some digging for someone to find their connection to one another if they didn’t know to look for it.
Throwing his clothes on, he winced. He was sore from some of those saves. The bruise on his thigh was blooming nicely, too. He was also exhausted. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. He didn’t want to keep forcing himself to be mad at Sasha for what she’d done. Or hadn’t done. It was still a disorganized mess. And she had apologized. He’d done something incredibly stupid himself, and she appeared to have forgiven him. Fuck, if those photos had made their way out into the public, it could have been a hundred times worse for her career than anyone finding out he’d inspired her story would be for his. She had only said some of the things she said because she was terrified, and with good reason.
She would never do anything to consciously hurt him…except she had done that story…but she’d apologized for not telling him. Didn’t that show she was concerned about how he felt? Or was she simply trying to make herself feel better after the fact?
The real question was, could he believe her?
“Hurry up, Coulter.” Someone he didn’t recognize was urging him toward the door to the pressroom. She wore a loose-fitting pantsuit and held a clipboard, so she was probably someone associated with the team’s PR group. She stopped him for a minute to give him a quick inspection and tucked in the tag at the back of his shirt. Then she nodded and nudged him out into the room where the press was seated with their cameras pointed at him, waiting.
Fox’s teammates were mostly gone by the time he finished up with the press conference, and the arena had emptied of fans. Only a few had been allowed by security to remain behind. When he emerged with his things, his parents and some of his siblings and their partners were waiting to congratulate him.
“Not bad, little bro.” Dax smacked him on the shoulder with more force than was necessary. “Had me worried there during some of those penalty kills. Don’t know how you stand the pressure when they come at you firing like that.”
“The pads help.” Fox joked as he hugged his mother and father.
“Really proud of you.” Echo beamed, as she launched herself at him. He caught his sister easily and squeezed her tight. Cole’s greeting was more subdued, but still happy as he clapped Fox on the back.
“Gage was impressed,” their mother told him. “Your father’s phone was going off every few seconds with text messages from him.”
“I put my phone off during the game,” Dax said. “Switched it back on and I had about twenty messages from Bryce.”
“You did well, son,” Brent Coulter said with a quiet steadiness and a light squeeze to Fox’s shoulder. Shit, it was good to see him.
“That was good today. Imagine what you could do with another sport,” said Gramps.
Fox didn’t take it personally. He just rolled his eyes.
Gramps had a knack for making everyone around him feel childish, if only because of how his own adolescent, provoking nature inspired them to react.
“I wonder where Sasha went,” His mother took his father’s arm and started leading the group slowly out of the private box. “She sat with us.”
Fox’s gaze darted to Dax who shook his head to convey that he’d said nothing.
“You know Sasha, she had to be here for Fox, but then she had to run to work,” Echo explained, even as she slid him some serious side-eye.
“She just had her first story air for the station she works with,” Dax spoke up, his gaze fixed on his younger brother. “Here…let me pull it up on my phone. Echo sent it to me.” Dax played the story for their parents while Fox fought the urge to smack his brother in the back of the head.
“It’s really well done,” Asha commented when the clip was over. “The narrative flows well, and she had someone who knew what they were doing helping with the camera angles and editing.”
“She must be so excited, Fox.” Julia said with a proud smile. “She did this for an internship? And it got picked to air? That’s impressive. I wonder why she didn't say anything.”
“Sasha is all about Fox when he plays. Every superstitious thing you can think of, she does. Everything she’s ever done for any of his games that has worked. She wasn’t going to break tradition and start bragging during his big game,” Echo said. “She wouldn’t want the attention on her.”
Fox got the message, loud and clear. Sasha had been there for him, wearing his jersey, his hat, and no doubt eating a banana during each quarter. It was something she’d done in one high school game where he’d killed it. From that point on, she did it every game.
But outside of the mentions of how proud everyone was about Sasha’s accomplishment, no one else had anything to say about the content beyond the depth of research Sasha must have put into crafting it, and how well she negotiated such tricky and sensitive interviews. Asha was particularly vocal about her admiration for Sasha’s talent, and she pressed Fox with questions about her prospects after graduation. She proved enough of a distraction to their parents for Fox and Dax to have a few minutes of quiet conversation between them.
“Why did you bring up that video?” Fox whispered.
“Do you think they wouldn’t have come across it on their own? I’m surprised Gramps hadn’t sent it to Dad already. You know Sasha’s grandfather must’ve sent it to him.”
“And you’re trying to make sure they know she did that story about me?”
“Quit being an asshole,” Dax hissed. “I said nothing about you when I was showing it to them, and obviously they didn’t think it was about you because it really isn’t. Just look at how she did it. There’s absolutely no reference to you personally. And even if you were her inspiration as far as subject matter, you haven’t fallen into the patterns she describes. Today’s game proves that.”
“Today’s game proves nothing,” Fox said. “I’ve had two starts—that’s hardly—”
“You’ve started with two wins, and one of them was a particularly impressive one,” Dax interrupted. “From the look on your coach’s face, he was pleased with how you did. There’s no way that Henri guy can take a long string of consecutive starts. Not the way yo
ur old goalie could. So they’re not going to be sending you back down any time soon.” He leaned closer to Fox and whispered loudly, “And if what Asha overheard when she was chatting with her contacts in the PR group is true, you’re going to be offered a decent contract pretty soon.”
Fox rolled his eyes at the smirk on Dax’s face. “That doesn’t change—”
“Oh, get over yourself already and make up with Sasha. Or is she still pissed at you for that—” he looked around and spoke even quieter than he already was “—photo mix-up? I told Echo to tell her that I didn’t even look at them, but if you want me to tell her that myself, just let me know. You two seemed to have a good thing going. Don’t screw it up.”
“There was nothing to screw up. And if there was, I already did it. She said when she broke up with her last boyfriend and kicked him out that she didn’t want a relationship. They’re distracting, and time consuming, and just… She was right. I need to focus on my playing—I’ve done well, and I need to keep going if—”
“If what? You’re where you want to be, and a big part of that is because you’ve had Sasha supporting you.”
“They’re offering me that contract because I had some good games. What if I fuck up?”
“They’ve had their eyes on you for this position for a while,” Dax reminded him. “You’ve had some good games, but you’ve also had good practices and good numbers for the team you were on. You’re improving because you’ve been able to think beyond the ice for a while. Trust me, Fox—Sasha has been helping you. You’re more relaxed when you get to see her and spend time with her.” He held up his hands. “Whatever capacity that may be, I don’t need the juicy details or any more photos. You’re more sure of yourself. Don’t blow that because you’re too stupid to apologize and tell her how you feel.”
“She… she said…” But Fox couldn’t bring himself to voice it aloud to his brother.
“What do you say, Fox?” their father said, breaking into their conversation.
“What do I say to what?”
“We want to take you out to dinner to celebrate,” their mother reiterated while Asha eyed Dax for not having paid attention.
“Actually, Mom,” Dax said before Fox could open his mouth, “Fox was talking about how he’s running late to meet up with Sasha. She’s got some work thing she invited him to, I believe.” Dax ignored Fox’s glare.
“Oh, well, tell her we saw the video, and that we’re thrilled for her. She’s incredibly talented,” his mother said. “We’ll simply pick another day to treat you to dinner. Maybe some time when we can get everyone home.”
“I’d like that,” Fox agreed. “And thanks again for coming. It means a lot.”
“Don’t argue,” Dax whispered in Fox’s ear as they briefly embraced before parting. “Just go and talk to her.”
Maybe Dax was right. He headed toward the player’s exit, when someone called out to him.
“Hey, Fox.”
Fox stopped short at the sight of the bleached blonde in front of him. She had big tits and a smooth, flat belly. She wore a short skirt that barely covered her ass, if it did at all. This was his usual type. Not that he preferred this type, but it was what was usually available. And given he wasn’t usually much into having deep conversations, it had worked. But not anymore. Someone had to work hard to impress him now. This kind of girl had zero appeal.
“Oh, hey.”
She smiled up at him, putting a hand on his chest.
He sidestepped, attempting to make it down the gangway. He wanted to get to his car so he could go find Sasha. “Sorry, I have to get going.”
She followed behind, her heels clicking on the cement. “You remember me, don’t you?”
Damn. Had he fucked her? It was entirely possible. How many times after a game had he and the team celebrated? There were plenty of girls around all the time, just dying to latch themselves onto some future professional hockey player. “I'm sorry. I don’t. What's your name again?”
She frowned and pouted those high-gloss pink lips. “I'm Jocelyn. We met about three months ago? I stayed over your place.”
He vaguely remembered a blonde who’d come back to Martin’s with him. Martin had gone home with the girl he’d picked up. And they’d been busy pounding the bed into the wall.
By contrast, the guest bedroom Fox had stayed in only had a mattress on the floor. Still, they had worked that mattress out. But he hadn’t meant to let her stay.
“I'm sorry. I am really shitty with faces.” Oh yeah, slick.
“It's okay. Really.”
Oh, thank God. He wasn’t prepared to remember her or her face, or exactly what they had been up to at Martin’s place. He shot her a polite smile, scooted around her, and kept walking.
She practically had to run to keep up with him. “I just wanted to say congratulations. I remember you, and the guys were talking about when you were going to make it big. And now you have. I was thinking maybe you and I could go celebrate the game. It was really good.”
He understood now. She’d watched the game, and thought, Hey, he let me stay over. I must have been important to him, so let me attach myself and leach onto him as much as possible.
He slowed his pace. “Look, Jocelyn. The thing is, I was a completely different guy then.”
She frowned, her brows furrowing as if she was trying to comprehend his words. But still, he pressed on. “I honestly don't remember you. Which I know is terrible, and I feel bad. And, you seem like a nice girl, so I’m going to give you the truth. I’m totally into someone else.” That was the truth. He needed to get to Sasha as soon as possible.
Jocelyn stopped walking and called after him. “So there’s no chance that you’d like to have a repeat? I’m very good, and I already know what you like.”
Fox had to laugh. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’ve got someone else in mind.”
She faltered a little when they reached the opening to the parking lot, but nodded. “Okay, I get it. Is there anyone on the team that you think might be interested?”
Fox sighed. This wasn't about him, at all. She was trying to work her way up. “No, but you know what, I don't think you need any of those guys. I’m sure you can figure out life on your own.”
She smiled up at him. “That might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
He certainly hoped not. But before Fox knew what was happening, she wrapped her arms around him, stood on tiptoe, and kissed him on the lips. He immediately stepped back, and she smiled at him. “Thank you. You really are very sweet.” Then all he could do was turn to watch her walk away, wobbling in her heels as she did so. He used the back of his hand to wipe the sticky, gooey lip gloss off his mouth.
He hated that stuff. He preferred whatever it was that Sasha used.
When he turned back to the parking lot, his heart stopped.
Sasha was waiting for him at the end of the gangway. She had a sign that said, Congratulations, let’s go fuck. Holy shit. He had missed her so much. But even now as she held up her sign, her face was stricken with sadness. Then she turned and walked away. Fox stood there, confused for a moment, but then realized what she’d seen.
Fuck. Jocelyn. “Sasha, wait. It’s not what it looks like.”
Sasha was surprisingly quick, and she wasn’t encumbered by hockey gear. So she climbed into her car and was gone before Fox could catch her.
Shit. Shit. How had he gotten all of this so screwed up?
Well, are you going to feel bad for yourself, or are you going to go get your girl?
That wasn’t even a question. He ran to his car and threw his stuff in the trunk. Now all he had to do was figure out where Sasha was going, because he wasn’t going to let her walk away.
Eighteen
When Sasha returned to the office, Ryan was waiting at her cubicle. He was hovering near her desk when she arrived, and immediately congratulated her on the success of her story and apologized for the way he’d handled their breakup.
; “We both said a lot of things we didn’t mean trying to hurt each other,” he said. “But now that we’ve had some time apart and now that you’re closer to getting your degree, I think we can do better. That we can make it work and get back to the way things were between us in the beginning.”
Seriously? She didn’t need this shit right now. “You might have said things you didn’t mean,” she quipped, “but I meant every word. Now, unless you want me repeating a few of them for your friends to hear, leave me alone.”
“Come on, Sasha,” he pleaded, following her as she sat at her desk and began sorting through the leftover paperwork from her story. She decided to hold on to the sources she cited directly and have a separate file for those that had proved interesting additional reading, tossing the remaining ones in a bin to be recycled.
“Is this about the apartment? I shouldn’t have bailed on it like that and left you to take care of the rent on your own, okay? Your name was the only one on the lease, but you and I did have an understanding. I should’ve just…taken the other bedroom or something—helped you find a new roommate. If you need help with it, I’d be happy to come home again, or at least help out with the bills while we figure this out.”
“There’s nothing to figure out,” Sasha said, continuing her attempts to ignore him. “It’s taken care of.”
His brows snapped down. “What the hell does that mean?”
She met his gaze directly. “It means I don’t need your help financially or otherwise, and I don’t want your company. I said what I needed to say when I threw you out. Now please, don’t make this any more embarrassing for yourself than it needs to be,” she said in a low voice. A quick glance at the clock showed the appointed hour for everyone to head out and celebrate was fast approaching. Sasha knew from previous gatherings, her colleagues would soon start congregating near her cubicle to chat and wait before heading out en masse.