Faceoff (Northbrook Hockey Elite Book 1)

by Rebecca Connolly

  Frowning, he excused himself from Levi and Axel and moved closer to a window, one hand covering his free ear as he held the phone up.

  “Marcus? I can barely hear you.”

  “This’ll only take a second, buddy. Are you sitting down?”

  Clint snorted softly. “Are you kidding? I’m with the Six Pack.”

  There was a laugh from the other end of the line that seemed too entertained by that. “That’s perfect. Absolutely perfect, I couldn’t have scripted this better. Tell Grizz to return my calls.”

  “Marcus . . . ”

  “You settled in Lansing?”

  Clint heaved a sigh and shifted his weight with some reluctance. “It’s been two years; I should hope so.”

  “Time to unsettle. This is your call, my friend.”

  Something tight suddenly clenched the center of Clint’s chest, and his vision seemed to freeze and cloud over without actually losing any clarity.

  “My . . . my what?”

  Marcus cackled almost maniacally from his end of the call. “I told you we could get you there, Clint! You’re in St. Louis next week, you join the Hawks while early in the season, and we have got you up with the big dogs, man! I’m emailing you details right now, so you finish up the Six Pack party and get ready for your own stardom!”

  There were other things his agent said—Clint could hear him saying them—but the words themselves were lost on him.

  This was his call.

  He was going to the pros. He was joining the Hawks. Everything he had ever wanted for his professional life was happening now.

  Right now.

  He lowered his phone, thumb automatically ending the call, quite possibly hanging up on his insane agent. Eyes wide, he turned around, automatically preparing to search for his brother among the rest.

  He didn’t have to look hard.

  Every eye in the room was on him, and there was no other conversation.

  Grizz’s eyes seemed as round as his own felt, and through his brother’s ever-impressive beard, a mouth formed the word, “Well?”

  Clint could only swallow. “I just got called up.”

  For the space of exactly one and a half heartbeats, nothing happened.

  Then there was an explosion of sound, emotion, and feeling as the entire Six Pack rushed in on him, whooping and hollering as though they’d just won some national championship thanks to Clint. Grizz outdid them all by throwing his arms around Clint and actually heaving him off of the ground as he chanted something unintelligible, crushing Clint’s ribs with every syllable. Hands thumped and slapped Clint’s arms, shoulders, and back, before the entire mob of them started jumping up and down in the traditional way every team seemed to in celebration of something huge.

  An earsplitting whistle rent the air, and, delirious with twenty thousand emotions, Clint turned to face the sound with the rest.

  Cole Hunter stood there on a table, of course, a full glass extended out in one hand. “A toast, men!”

  They all scrambled for the nearest drink, full or not, and raised their glasses in the air.

  “To Baby Brother McCarthy,” Cole intoned with mock solemnity. “May he rank higher than Grizz ever did in Sports Monthly’s Hottie Issue, but not as high as me.”

  Someone whistled while Clint’s hair was ruffled as if he were nine years old.

  “And to the Hawks for getting the best friggin’ center the ice has ever seen!”

  Cheers went up again.

  “And!” Cole hollered over the sound. “And to us. All of us. For getting our butts on my jet to watch Fido freaking McCarthy play his very first home game in the great city of St. Louis!”

  Thunder couldn’t have sounded louder than their cheers and celebrations on that note, and Clint, barely conscious of anything but elation and exhilaration, faintly reminded himself to call his mother when all this was over.

  Provided Grizz didn’t beat him to it.

  The process by which interest rates accrued had to be the most boring subject on the entire planet.

  Or, at least, Dr. Glass made it seem that way. His voice just droned on and on and on . . .

  She had been a finance minor in her undergraduate years, but Bree Stone could not, for the life of her, see why anyone would take more courses than absolutely necessary from this instructor. He seemed as bored by the subject material as she was.

  Glancing around the room, she amended her statement: as bored as the entire class was.

  Three of them in the back were asleep, and the only reason Dr. Glass hadn’t done something about it was because the fool had turned the lights down for his presentation. There were maybe twenty people in the class, and he treated it like a massive undergraduate lecture.

  Amateur mistake for the dinosaur professor.

  Bree checked her phone quickly before sliding it back to its usual place in her back pocket, sighing with relief that there were only two minutes left in this lecture.

  And this was a graduate-level class? Lectures weren’t supposed to be given anymore. Not in the same way, and not at this level of tedium. All of her other classes up to this point, third semester in, had been fairly hands-on and more of a discussion. Some with PowerPoint presentations, sure, but there was a certain level of engagement with these graduate students, who had already proven themselves competent adults, if not professionals, in the topic of discussion.

  If only they would be treated as such.

  “That is all for today,” Dr. Glass intoned without any level of inflection different from his entire lecture. For the inattentive, his words would have been completely lost, and they might continue sleeping right into the next class, which, if she recalled correctly, was Accounting 101.

  Brutal for those who couldn’t tolerate revisiting basics.

  Whistling under her breath, Bree slid her hardly touched notebook into her bag and headed for the door of the classroom.

  As if her schedule dictated her social contact, her phone vibrated the moment she passed through the doors.

  One glance told her all she needed to know, and she raised the phone to her ear.

  “Hello, brother mine,” she said in a flat tone that belied the smile on her face.

  “Sister dear.”

  “It’s a bit creepy to get a call the moment I step out of class. It’s like you know my schedule.”

  “I do know your schedule. I have to know when my best chance of reaching you might be.”

  Bree snorted softly, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder. “I’m not in class constantly. I haven’t started any internships yet . . . ”

  “What are you going to do for that, by the way?” Ryker interrupted without missing a beat. “It’s about time to get that set, isn’t it? Your final semester?”

  “Okay, now I am definitely creeped out. I know we’ve never talked about my educational timelines, deadlines, or any other kind of lines.” She glanced over her shoulder as she left the building, only seeing other students before returning to the campus and overcast skies ahead of her. “You’re not following me, are you? Lying about your fabulous baseball career and really just following me around for a living?”

  Ryker’s laugh was as warm and familiar as home. “I can’t see how that would be profitable, and Trista might object to my being a stalker for a living. And I have an alibi presently. I’m sitting in my hotel room with Benj Miller. He says hi.”

  Bree laughed and lifted her fingers in a half wave to an acquaintance she passed on campus. “Well, hello, Benj Miller. I bet he looks hot in Houston. That is where you are, isn’t it?”

  “First of all, no. Second of all, Bree, yes, we are in Houston for the kids camp and charity game. Seriously, Bree?”

  “Ryker, I’m twenty-two and red-blooded, and I have twenty-twenty vision. Benj Miller is gorgeous, and if Trista hasn’t told you that by now, then your wife’s eyesight is horrible.”

  Her brother groaned from the other end of the line. “No, Bree. He’s my teammate and a
puppy, and it would be all kinds of wrong. And he can hear me saying this right now! Just no. No, Benj. Shut up. Teammate rule. Have boundaries. No. Moving on.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “How’s life?”

  Bree sighed with a smile and turned to sit on a bench near a tree whose leaves were just beginning to turn for the fall. “Life. Life is going on.”

  Ryker gave a very unsatisfying grunt at that. “That’s not a great answer.”

  “Grad school is not a great experience,” she admitted. “I’m enjoying it, don’t get me wrong, but it’s kinda like conditioning. Hate every minute, but you know it’s good for you, so a part of you enjoys it?”

  “Okay . . . with you so far.”

  Bree wrinkled up her nose. “I do like what I’m doing, or I think I will once I’m out of here, but it’s just . . . school . . . ”

  “Fair enough. You seeing anyone?”

  “Benj Miller.”

  She could hear Ryker coughing over the line, and she grinned at the sound. “Very funny,” Ryker remarked dryly. “I might be sick at the suggestion.”

  “For my part or for his?”

  “Are you really seeing anyone?”

  “Of course not.” Bree scoffed and leaned back against the bench, stretching her legs out. “You know me, nobody’s interested and I’m not that social.”

  “Hey now,” her brother scolded in an entirely brotherly manner. “There is no of course in this situation, Bree. You are a beautiful young woman, smarter than anyone your age should be and funnier than any of my teammates. Clearly something is wrong with that school you’re at, or at least the men on that campus.”

  Bree hummed a laugh. “Right, should I go around putting up signs that say Ryker Stone cordially invites you to date his sister? That’ll start a great line of your fanboys, or the ones in love with my sister-in-law, but how does that help me?”

  “Come on . . . ”

  “Why do I have to have a romantic life anyway? What’s that got to do with anything?” She folded her arms, shaking her head even though her brother wouldn’t be able to see or hear it. “I have a business degree and a finance minor to my name, and a master of public administration coming. Once school is done, I’ll be way too busy to worry about a guy, of all things.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line, then Ryker laughed, and laughed hard.

  “It’s not funny!” Bree insisted, though she was laughing too.

  “No, it’s not, but I’m just so proud of you. You’re just going to tackle the world, aren’t you? You don’t need me looking after you or worrying about you. You’re too strong. Heaven help anybody, man or woman, who gets in your way.”

  Bree looked at her phone in amusement, then replaced it at her ear. “You okay, Ryker? That sounded like a signing-off speech. You’re not going to resign from your position as overprotective brother now just because I talk a big game, are you?”

  “I’ll never resign, sis. I’m Team Bree for life.”

  “Sorry not sorry. Good luck tonight. If my roommates aren’t hogging the TV, I’ll be watching. Thanks for the link, by the way. Livestream is great.”

  “No worries. Season’s over, and Cole’s jet works great if you want to come out any time. Hey, quick question. Do you like hockey?”

  Bree smirked to herself. “That’s the one on the ice, right?”

  “Correct. Good memory.”

  “It’s all right. Not a huge fan, but I can’t say my exposure’s all that great. I’ve got a brother who plays baseball, so that pretty much ruled all our lives.”

  “Ha ha. Well, Grizz’s brother Clint got called up, so he’ll be coming out there. We all want to come to a game, so I thought it would be great to have you come along, since you’re out there too.”

  Bree sobered and sat up, her smirk turning into a smile. “Yeah, that’d be great! Clint’s going to be out here? Another Six Pack Sib in the vicinity?”

  “You guys have a name?”

  “It’s a support group. Very serious, and we have matching pins and everything. Now I won’t have to Skype into the monthly meetings alone. That’s fantastic.”

  “I’m hanging up now. Love you, kid.”

  “Love you, too, weirdo. Bye, Benj!”

  There was a loud call in response from the background, but Ryker ended the call before she could make it out.

  Still, she was laughing pretty hard about it.

  Her brother was a nut. Nice, but a nut. Even with his insane professional baseball schedule, he called her every week, sometimes multiple times. He hadn’t done that during her undergraduate years, but she’d only lived forty minutes from home then. Her parents had her home every weekend, and she’d grown almost sick of Baltimore over those four years.

  No one had quite expected her to head out to the Midwest for graduate school, let alone all the way out to St. Louis. There was no family out here, no old friends, and nothing but the program she would devote herself to.

  And she loved it. Absolutely loved it. Aside from the class she had just escaped from, that is.

  Being in a program that wasn’t directly related to mathematics proved to help a lot when it came to family intervention, as did the distance. Her father was a professor of math, and a nerd in the field in his own right. Her mother wasn’t a mathematician, but she had started a non-profit and volunteered in the community, and she loved nothing more than being involved with her kids.

  No math; not local.

  She spoke with her parents every Sunday, and her mom called randomly during the week, usually during class. Sometimes Bree called her back.

  Sometimes she “forgot.”

  The only one in her family to really give her a respectful distance was Trista, her sister-in-law. That might be because Trista was a movie star. Oscar nominated, even, and currently starring in one of the most popular television shows on the air. Trista was just as obsessed with math as Bree’s dad was, which would have bewildered anyone who knew, and she had gone back to school to get a master’s in the subject.

  Bree loved math herself, just not enough to devote her life to it. Yes, she still recited the numerals of pi when she needed to calm herself, and her doodles in her notebook might be algebraic equations at times, but she was a mix of both her parents, it seemed.

  Nonprofits intrigued her, but so did public management, and her business degree could only help her there.

  But what did she want to do?

  No idea.

  Ryker had learned not to ask that question, as she had given him so many sarcastic answers over the years. Complete deflection from actually considering it.

  Everyone thought she had it all together. Bree knows exactly what she’s doing. Bree’s got a plan. Bree’s so organized.

  Bree was almost clueless.

  Nobody knew that, of course, but that was the thing about being in school; reality was delayed while you were in it.

  She didn’t have to know yet.

  Did she?

  Making a face, Bree opened her email and found, to her complete lack of surprise, a message from her advisor.

  Only a few weeks to submit your request for internship. If you need reminding of the guidelines, let me know.

  Bree closed her email quickly and shoved her phone away.

  She didn’t need reminding; she knew exactly what the requirements were. They danced around her head when she was trying to sleep at night.

  That was the reality of life trying to sneak its way into her university life.

  Not cool.

  Rising from the bench, she shouldered her bag and made her way through campus, her apartment being on the exact opposite side from where her final class of the day had been. She’d opted to live with other girls in the same graduate school, though their programs were different. They’d met at a social over the summer during an introduction weekend, and since Bree had no local friends to speak of and no desire to pay the exorbitant price of quality off-campus housing alone, she’d agreed.

  A
my and Penny were great, for an almost-blind pairing of roommates. They weren’t crazy social, which suited Bree perfectly, but they were just social enough to give her some decent alone time in the apartment, which was even more perfect. Every now and then, they invited her along. Sometimes she agreed. Other times they all sat home together in sweats and watched a movie.

  That was her favorite kind of night.

  Bree’s more social nights hadn’t exactly gone according to plan.

  A telltale buzzing made Bree sigh, and she turned her bag to fumble within it for her phone. Her thumb was already sliding to the ignore button as she pulled the phone out to glance at the screen, but she paused when she saw who was calling.

  Hesitation ran a course along her arms, and she pursed her lips as the ringing continued.

  Sighing, she answered and put the phone to her ear. “Hi, Trista.”

  “Hey, you!”

  There was just something about the perky edge to Trista’s voice that made Bree both smile and cringe, but that was her sister-in-law to a T. Trista was bright like sunshine, which could be overwhelming, but she also held the same warmth as sunshine, and Bree heard that too.

  “How’s the shoot?” Bree asked as she continued on the path towards home.

  She could almost hear Trista shrug. “Eh. It’s a filler episode, and my character isn’t a major player in it.”

  “Spoiler alert!” Bree covered her free ear with a dramatic flair that wouldn’t be seen.

  “You don’t watch the show. You know it, and I know it.”

  Bree’s smile spread. “The trailers are always good.”

  “I’ll tell the team.” There was a beat, and then Trista gingerly asked, “How did the other night go?”

  She was the only one who could ask Bree that question; she was the only one who even knew about the other night.

  She was also the only one Bree would actually give an answer to that question.

  “Remember Paxton from high school?” Bree muttered, lowering her voice despite having no one close enough to overhear.

  “No . . . ” Trista moaned. “I mean, yes, I do, but no . . . Sweetie . . . ”