Faceoff (Northbrook Hockey Elite Book 1)

by Rebecca Connolly

  “Are you serious?” she whispered, her hands flying to her mouth.

  “Yep.” He threw an arm around her shoulder and pulled her in, giving her head a quick kiss. “Welcome to the family, sis. If I know my brother, he’s not letting you go. And I’d have to kill him if he did.”

  Bree giggled and peered up at this giant of a baseball player, this icon in his sport, who had only ever been Grizz to her. “If he lets me go, he better take me with him.”

  Grizz barked a laugh and steered Bree away from her safe table, wandering with her through the crowded, noisy, beautiful event. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s see what you’ve done, and what kind of damage we can do.”

  She slipped her arm around his waist and let him stroll with her, her chest tightening and releasing in an almost steady pattern as she looked, really looked, at the place.

  It had come together. It had really turned into everything she had hoped for. If nothing else came from all of this, at least tonight had panned out.

  She caught sight of Clint across the room, chatting and laughing with her family, with his family, and with Declan and Rocco, who now had a grinning Hope between them, her hands in theirs. Clint saw Bree and gave her a warm and tender smile, even from that distance causing her to silently sigh.

  She put her hand over her heart and patted twice, then pointed at him, mouthing the words, “I love you.”

  Clint’s smile grew, and his hand came to his heart and thumped twice, then blew a kiss to her.

  They stared at each other, smiling, for as long as Bree could see him, not bothering to redirect Grizz in that direction.

  There would be time for telling Clint just how much he meant to her; how much his actions had meant to her. How she couldn’t have done any of this without him.

  How she wouldn’t want to.

  “Hey, Grizz,” Bree said through the lump forming in her throat, “how would you feel about a beard showdown between you and Jax tonight?”

  “Oh ho ho,” Grizz rumbled with a laughable superiority. “Bring it on.”

  “And we just want to thank whoever put on the event for giving my daughters the opportunity to meet such great hockey players who encouraged them to follow their dreams and become great hockey players themselves. What a classy night. We will support Northbrook forever!”

  Bree smiled and snuggled herself further into the corner of Clint’s couch, the warmth of hearing such a post centering in her chest and spreading out to the tips of each finger.

  She’d read all of them already, but hearing Clint read them out loud made them seem more real.

  Not even a week out from the gala, and their momentum hadn’t slowed at all. The internet had exploded with coverage and posts, volunteers had cleaned up the landscaping of the Northbrook facility and planned on planting several things in the spring, and the interview video of Clint and The Pit had been replayed so many times they were all sick of it.

  Sort of.

  Clint’s social media campaign had become even more popular than Grizz had predicted; dozens of videos popped up every day from different teams of all levels. Even non-athletic groups were joining in. Only this morning she had seen a video of a police department having a water fight with the fire department, both groups pledging money to Northbrook. Rachel McCarthy’s dance company had changed the game by challenging other dance companies to do improv dance in Halloween costumes, which was trending now among dance companies across the country. One of the New York football teams had challenged their basketball team to a synchronized swimming competition, which already had over a million views, and a new round of more ridiculous challenges were popping up in response.

  All of them used the Northbrook hashtag, and each one produced a donation of some size to their project.

  What was even better than all of this, if that was possible, was that the numbers had come in, and they had raised enough money to get Northbrook out of its current trouble and start in on a better financial foundation. It was a long way from saving the club indefinitely, everyone knew, but it gave them time to get things right.

  It was a start. It was a really good start.

  Clint chuckled, his arm draped comfortably around her bent knees, and he patted her leg, shaking his head. “Bree, these posts go on and on. Forget saving Northbrook; you changed people’s lives.”

  “Stop that,” she murmured, smiling with embarrassment, burying her face into the couch.

  “Nope, you’re just going to have to listen to all of this praise like a good philanthropist,” he insisted without concern, his fingers tracing absent patterns on her jeans. “Modesty is all well and good, babe, but when you are exceptional . . . ”

  “Clint,” Bree begged, her voice muffled through the cushions.

  He laughed softly. “Fine, I’ll stop. Come out.”

  She exhaled and turned her face to give him a suspicious look. “You’ll stop?”

  “Yes,” he told her with a serious look, though there was mischief lingering in his expression.

  She narrowed her eyes but sat up and leaned closer to him, resting her arm on top of his. “You’re going to have to take some credit too, you know.”

  He quirked his brows at her, not at all concerned by that. “Am I? Whatever for?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” She made a face, gesturing helplessly. “Maybe a viral social media campaign that is still picking up momentum. Something that actually crossed the boundaries of sport and community and has elementary school kids taking up donations for Northbrook.”

  Clint’s pleased smile was intense but brief as he sobered. “Technically, the campaign is all Penny’s work. She’s the one who got it all set up.”

  Bree shook her head from side to side. “Huh-uh. Penny is a genius, and she knows social media and advertising like nobody else, but this is you, babe. You are the one who made the calls and got the involvement from athletes who make an impact. You’ll never know how much it means to me.”

  “You are the one saving my old hockey club, Bree.” He smiled at her and rubbed her leg gently. “The score is always going to have you ahead here.”

  They’d been over this again and again since the gala, and they had never made any progress. He insisted all the credit was hers, she insisted he deserved more, and their extremes were only going to get more and more ridiculous.

  Bree leaned her head on their arms, smiling at Clint in adoration, saying nothing.

  He returned her smile with one of his own. “What?”

  She shrugged, lacing their fingers together. “I’m just happy. That’s all.”

  “Good.” His smile crinkled his eyes briefly. “You should be. It was incredible, Bree. You should hear what the guys have been saying, not to mention the Six Pack, and my team is so mad they couldn’t all come . . . ”

  Bree giggled softly and brought his hand to her lips. “I didn’t mean the gala. Yes, I’m happy the gala went well, and yes, I’m happy that we have enough money now to really get going with saving the club, but none of that is what I meant.”

  “No?”

  She shook her head. “I’m happy with you. Happier than I thought I could be, happier than I’ve ever been.” She smiled further, holding his hand close to her. “This is it, isn’t it? What everyone writes songs and poems and stories about?”

  Clint nodded slowly, reaching out with his free hand to push a lock of hair behind her ear and stroke her cheek. “Yeah, it is. I don’t write songs or poems or stories; I’m just a dumb hockey player . . . ”

  “Stop.” She rolled her eyes and heaved a mock irritated sigh.

  “But,” he went on, “if that doesn’t bother you too much, I’ll happily rub your feet every night just to show you how much I love you.”

  Bree snickered at the image. “I’ll take you up on that, but I won’t need it every night.”

  “Good,” Clint said with a heaving breath of relief. “My hands are not strong enough to do every night, but it was the only noble thing I could think of.”
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  “My hero,” she replied dryly. She bit her lip and looked down at their joined hands, reluctance and hesitation seeping into her happy moment.

  She had to tell him; arrangements had to be made soon, and before they knew it, the semester would be over.

  What would he say? How would they do this?

  How could she do this?

  “You’re thinking a million miles a minute, and I can smell the smoke from the gears.”

  Bree looked up at him with another smile, her fingers stroking against his. “I have to tell you something.”

  “I thought you might.”

  She exhaled slowly, keeping her eyes trained on his. “I heard from my advisor today. The graduate committee made their decision on my internship.”

  Clint’s eyes widened. “And?”

  Bree swallowed, hesitating. “They’ve accepted my proposal. I can start my own nonprofit for my internship, provided they get regular reports on my progress. There will be no claims to the business itself from their end, no liability to them, no ownership by the school.”

  “Bree!” Clint exclaimed, his free hand flying to cup her cheek once more. “Baby, that’s fantastic! Congratulations, you deserve this!”

  “Thank you, I’m so relieved.” She let her smile widen, then fade. “There is one more stipulation they had, though.”

  “Sure, understandable, since you need the credit for school.”

  Bree bit her lip. “Clint . . . ”

  He sobered at once, his thumb brushing over her cheek softly. “Tell me.”

  Her eyes began to burn. “Since Northbrook is my test client, so to speak, they insist that I need to be on-site, just as anyone else doing an internship would have to be. In Chicago.”

  Clint froze, his mouth forming an O shape as the thought settled on him and started processing.

  Bree waited without speaking, rubbing his hand over and over, not sure if she was soothing him or herself with the action.

  Maybe both of them.

  “Okay,” Clint said slowly, beginning to nod. “Okay. That makes sense. You’d have to go somewhere for an internship, right? Probably wouldn’t be lucky enough to find a local one.”

  “Probably not,” Bree agreed.

  He nodded again. “When would you need to be there?”

  “Shortly after next semester starts,” Bree murmured, a hitch in her voice. “If not before. I’ll be there until at least the beginning of May. Come back here maybe once a month if my committee wants to meet.”

  “Maybe once a month,” he repeated.

  Bree’s eyes watered now, the reality of the situation hitting her with a sharp pain. “Yeah.”

  “Okay.” Clint’s eyes narrowed as he stared at her, his thumb stroking her cheek once more. “I need to do something, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  He pulled out his phone, scrolled quickly, then hit a button and set the phone down on the table, the ringing audible on the speakerphone.

  “Hi, honey!” the voice of Clint’s mother called, cheery in tone and bright in aspect. “You would not believe how many calls I’ve been getting after that gala. I hope you and Bree have a plan for this—”

  “Mom, you’re on speaker,” Clint told her, cutting off whatever else she was going to say. “Bree’s here too.”

  “Oh! Hi, sweetie!”

  Bree smiled at the phone. “Hi, Mrs. McCarthy.”

  “Aubrey. I insist.”

  Bree’s cheeks flushed. “Hi, Aubrey.”

  “Mom, I have a question,” Clint said, stroking Bree’s leg soothingly.

  “I might have an answer.”

  Bree gave Clint a questioning look, but he only smiled.

  “Can Bree stay in the guest room at the house?” he asked, his eyes on Bree.

  “Clint!” Bree hissed, shaking her head.

  Aubrey hesitated on the phone. “Of course, why would you even need to ask?”

  Clint grinned broadly. “She’ll need it for about four months starting in January.”

  There was a beat, and then Aubrey squealed, the sound garbling slightly through the speaker. “Oh my gosh, yes! Yes, yes, of course! Bree, you’re moving to Chicago?”

  Bree bit back a snarky remark to her boyfriend and forced a smile. “Yeah, I am. My advisor approved my using Northbrook as my internship, and she wants me in Chicago to work on it.”

  “Oh, sweetie, you have to stay with us. Chicago can be so expensive. It would be so much cheaper to stay with us. No pressure, of course; you won’t offend me if you want an apartment. Our guest room is huge, and it has its own bathroom attached, so you would have all the privacy you’d want. It’s all in the basement with an open den, so you’d really have the entire floor to yourself. Private entrance, if you’d want it. You don’t have to answer now, but we would love it if you’d stay with us.”

  There was something very sweet about the obviously excited, if rushed, offer, and Bree warmed at the thought of living with a family while not feeling like a child. She could save money and have access to everything she would need to work on the Northbrook project. And to be with Clint’s family . . .

  She would still be connected to him even while they were apart.

  A lump formed in her throat as she stared at him. How had he known she would love the idea the moment she heard it? How had he known she would need this?

  “That sounds great, Aubrey,” Bree managed thickly, pulling Clint’s hand close to her again, as she couldn’t possibly kiss him senseless while on the phone with his mother. “I think I would love that.”

  “Yay!” Aubrey cheered. “Oh, that would be so fun. I promise not to smother you or be nosy or anything like that. You just come and go as you please and join us for dinner whenever you feel like it. Bree! I’ve never had a girl live in my house with me. You can’t imagine how happy this makes me! I’m already thinking of things we can do, and—”

  “Okay, Mom, we gotta go,” Clint said with a laugh. “You guys still okay to come down next weekend for the game?”

  Aubrey laughed herself. “Clint, are you telling me to shut up and leave Bree alone?”

  “More or less.”

  “I’m gonna have to hurt you, son . . . ”

  Bree snickered at the threat, though she could hear Aubrey’s warm smile in it.

  “I’ll trap you in a bear hug, Mama,” Clint shot back.

  They heard Aubrey sigh in resignation. “Yes, honey, we’re coming next weekend, and we’d love to take you and Bree out after the game. Plan on us, okay?”

  “Sure will. Love you.”

  “Love you too. Love you both. Bye now.”

  Bree was speechless as the call ended, staring at the phone on the coffee table in amazement.

  She’d just said . . .

  But how . . . ?

  Clint picked up the phone and dialed another number while Bree struggled through her emotions, entirely without words.

  “Hey, Clint,” Rachel’s voice said cheerily. “What’s up? You miss me already?”

  “Sure do,” he replied. “Bree’s here, and she’s got something to tell you.”

  Bree glared at Clint through her tear-filled eyes, but he only smiled and inclined his head towards the phone.

  Clearing her throat, Bree shook her head and said, “Hey, Rach . . . I’m, uh . . . I’m moving to Chicago next semester. You feel like being my guide around the city?”

  Rachel cheered loudly, making Clint and Bree laugh together. “Another Six Pack Sib in my neighborhood? Heck yeah! I got you, girl!”

  “You’re a Six Pack spouse, Rach,” Bree reminded her, not that the status negated the sibling role, but it was worth stating.

  “Sisters before misters, Bree.”

  Bree coughed a laugh. “Don’t tell Grizz.”

  “He’s right here. Glaring.”

  “Sounds like him,” Clint muttered good-naturedly.

  “Does this mean you’ll come visit us more, Clint?” Rachel demanded.

  Clint’
s gaze returned to Bree, his smile softening. “I’ll be visiting Bree every chance I can. You guys can tag along sometimes.”

  Grizz’s rumbling laughter could be heard, and Rachel snickered. “Fair enough. See you soon, okay?”

  “Bye,” Clint and Bree said together before Clint hung up.

  Silence filled the room as they stared at each other.

  “Why’d you do that?” Bree asked with genuine curiosity.

  Clint turned more towards her, bringing both arms around her knees and taking her hands, cupping them together and rubbing his thumbs over the tops. “I need you to be taken care of while you’re living in Chicago. You don’t need anyone watching out for you or protecting you or anything like that, but I want you to be surrounded by people who love you. If I can’t be there with you, at least now I can guarantee that.”

  “I’m a big girl, Clint,” Bree told him gently. “I can handle it.”

  “I know that. Believe me, I am well aware how independent, impressive, and incredible you are.” He pulled her hands over the tops of her knees, kissing them softly. “If I’ve overstepped, tell me. I just want you to know you’re not alone whether you’re here or there. You’ll always have someone.”

  Bree pulled her hands free of his and placed them on either side of his face, leaning close. “I love you, Clint McCarthy.”

  He exhaled in relief, his eyes searching hers. “So you’re okay with this?”

  “With you taking care of me?” She pressed her lips to his gently, but with insistence. “Yes,” she told him, breaking off. “I’m okay with that.”

  He grinned and pulled her forward until she was sitting in his lap. “Good. And you know, it’s a short train ride up to Chicago. Just a few hours. I can work around my playing schedule.”

  Bree ran her fingers through his hair, tender affection filling her chest. “You can’t go crazy, babe. You’re in season.”

  “Who said I would go crazy? I just said I’d come up when I could.”

  “Oh, is that what you said?”

  “That’s what I said,” he insisted, patting her back playfully. “And you can still go to plenty of hockey games to keep up your terminology and get your fix when you miss me. Jax can get you all the Flyers tickets you want.”