The Game Changer : Indianapolis Eagles Series Book 8

by Samantha Lind

  “Eh, things are going. I was hoping to pick your brain on some things, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course, what can I help with?” she asks.

  “It can wait until you’re done, I don’t mind,” I tell her, knowing that she’ll probably need to attend to the baby in her arms soon.

  “You sure? She’s almost done, and then I can get her down for a nap, as well.”

  “Of course, take your time. Kids are more important than my issues at the present.”

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Richard asks as he reappears from down the hall.

  “Water is fine,” I tell him before he disappears into their kitchen.

  “Do you need anything, babe?” he calls out to Madison.

  “Can you bring me something to eat please, some cheese and crackers are fine,” she calls back to him. “Nursing two babies has me starving all the time,” she tells me.

  “I can only imagine,” I tell her, not really having any experience in that arena. I was around my sister so little when my nephew was a baby due to my schedule and living in different cities.

  “Here ya go,” Richard captures my attention a moment later as he hands over a bottle of water to me before handing his wife a plate with the food she requested. He takes a seat on the armrest of the couch, just a few feet from his wife and daughter's side. “Need me to burp her?” he asks as Madison adjusts the baby in her arms.

  “Sure,” she tells him, as Richard picks the baby up, cradling her to his chest as he starts to pat on her back. It only takes a few seconds before she lets out a burp that could almost rival one of the guys on the team.

  “Damn,” I chuckle. “What are you feeding that kid?”

  “Only the best.” Madison beams.

  “These girls have got some wicked gas power. I’ve been amazed at some of the noises and smells that they can produce,” Richard tells me as he starts to wrap up this baby the same way he did the other. I’ve already forgotten what one was which. I’m sure they can tell them apart, but I’m lost when it comes to that.

  “Okay, I’m ready for you to dish,” Madison says as Richard heads down the hall with the already sleeping baby in his arms.

  “I had another appointment with my neurologist, and it didn’t go well. He wants me to retire,” I tell her, and go on to give her and Richard, once he returns to the living room, all the details from my appointment. I also tell them about the episodes I’ve been having, including the one when I left the office yesterday and how Jill helped me.

  “I know it isn’t what you want, but I have to agree with the doctor,” Richard tells me. “I had some minor injuries a few years before I retired that had me really considering retiring then, so I know somewhat what you’re going through with the should-I-shouldn’t-I debate. Obviously, mine wasn’t as serious, and I was able to go on and play for another few seasons, but with your brain at stake, I think you need to listen to the doc.”

  “I know, and I’m starting to come to terms with it. I wanted to get any info or insight from you,” I say, motioning to Madison, “as an agent before I call mine back up and tell him what I want to do and to start talks with management over ending my contract.”

  “I’m sure that he’ll do everything he can to benefit you. You’ve got what, one year left on your contract?” she asks.

  “Yep,” I confirm.

  “They may choose to just pay you out upfront, but they might also decide to pay you out over the course of the remaining months. No matter what way they go about it, it’s still a hit to the cap.”

  “I figured as much, and I guess I don’t really care what way they choose to go. I guess if they pay it all out this year, that might create a tax nightmare for me.”

  “It definitely will create a tax liability, so it would be a good idea to talk to your financial advisor and get their take on things when you’re in negotiations with the team. Your agent should also be looking at those kinds of things, as well,” she tells me.

  “Thanks, I know I need to just make the call, but it pains me to think that everything I worked so damn hard for over the last thirty-plus years is just done and gone.”

  “It’s a tough pill to swallow, that’s for sure, and even more of one since it isn’t on your own terms. But look at all the positives—you’ve had a great career, won the cup multiple times, won multiple awards, played on the Olympic team, and won Gold. Not too many people can claim even half of those things.” Madison reiterates my accomplishments.

  “I know, and I’m not trying to diminish what I’ve accomplished, just sucks ass to end on such a bad note. Almost casts a shadow over everything, in a way.”

  “Only if you let it. But think of what you can turn around and do with your platform to help keep future players from dealing with the exact same outcome you are dealing with. You could use your position to educate young players on why safety measures and protocols have come so far in the sport and how they still need to get better as we progress on. I really think that you can turn this around and use it for the betterment of the sport,” Richard tells me.

  “I hadn’t thought of that angle,” I tell him honestly. “It isn’t like people don’t know that I was taken out with a concussion in the playoffs, so it would be an easy transition.” I mull over his suggestion, knowing that it is definitely something that would be an important cause to me, and that brings back Jill’s idea of finding a significant cause for me to focus my time and energy on. I’ll have to remember to bring it up to her tonight over dinner.

  We continue our visit while the babies take their naps, waking up about ninety minutes later. Observing my friends as they take care of their girls, I realize just how well they’ve adjusted to being parents to twin girls. Having a few months under their belts now, things appear to come pretty naturally to them as I observe both of them take care of the girls. I’ve never really wanted for a family of my own, always focusing on playing and being as game-ready as I could be, but now that I know hockey will no longer be my life, I can see the appeal to having someone to come home to every night and maybe a kid or two of my own.

  “You’re getting this dad thing down,” I tell Richard as he expertly changes one of the girls right in front of me.

  “Yep, amazing how quickly things changed around here.” He chuckles. “They might be little, but they sure do rule our lives these days, but I wouldn’t change it for anything,” he tells me, holding up the baby before blowing a raspberry against her cheek, causing her to giggle and blow some spit bubbles. I realize just how much the girls have already changed in the few short months since they were born.

  “How old are they now?” I ask.

  “Just turned four months old this week,” he tells me. “Some days, it feels like they’ve been here for a year, and some days it feels like just yesterday we were bringing them home from the hospital,” he says, blowing another raspberry on her cheek. “We’ve had many sleepless nights and zombie-filled days, but it’s been worth every single one.”

  “Ok, I gotta ask, but how in the hell do you tell them apart?” My question must be one they get a lot, but it still causes Richard to laugh.

  “Easy, they actually don’t look all that alike. They’re fraternal, not identical twins, so that’s helpful, but this, here, is Sophia. She’s got lighter blond hair and has her mother’s nose, while Courtney over there has slightly darker hair like her momma, and was blessed with my nose,” he tells me.

  “I’ll have to try and remember that,” I tell him.

  “You want to hold Sophia?” he asks, holding her out to me. I nervously take her from his arms, a little surprised at how strong her body is. I can’t really recall the last time I held a baby this small. I’m occasionally around some of my teammates’ kids, but I don’t usually ever hold them, and my nephew is a tad bit bigger than these little ones.

  “You need one of your own,” Madison says as she walks by, Courtney in her arms.

  “That would require a wife or girlfri
end first,” I deadpan.

  “Well, yes, that would make things a little easier,” she laughs. “So get on with that part,” she encourages.

  “Maybe,” I grunt, and the baby in my arms lets out a shriek that damn near pierces my eardrum. “Fuc…fudge,” I catch myself from cussing. “You are one loud little girl,” I say to Sophia.

  “What about Jill? From what you were saying earlier, it sounds like things could potentially become a thing,” Madison questions.

  “Maybe. It is new, might not be anything, or it might be something. I’d say we’re feeling each other out right now.”

  “Feeling each other out,” her eyebrows raise in question. “Is that what we’re calling it these days? I mean, I know I don’t really have much of a leg to stand on when it comes to how relationships start, just promise me that you won’t lead her on or feel things out too long. You’ll waste precious years,” she says, and I can tell there’s a little warning from her and Richard’s own story. They skirted around their true feelings for so damn long. Everyone else, me included, could see it before they both did and finally acted on those feelings.

  “I’m not one for dragging things out or dating just to date. It isn’t my personality,” I tell her. “Probably one of the reasons I’ve never really had a long-term relationship.”

  “Well, maybe now’s the time to change that,” she suggests.

  “I’ll take it under advisement,” I say to appease her. “Thanks, guys, for your advice today. I’ll let you know how everything shakes out with the team and contracts and such, but I need to get out of here. I’ve got to stop at the store yet today and get ready for my dinner date this evening.”

  “Anytime. Don’t be a stranger. Our door is always open for you,” Richard tells me as he walks me out.

  My stomach starts to growl as I drive toward the store. I realize I never had lunch, seeing as I was at Richard and Madison’s for a few hours. I grab a quick sandwich at the store before grabbing the items from my list and then making my way home.

  Once home, I pick up the few things lying around. I tend to keep a pretty tidy house, never one for much clutter, but still, I want my place to look nice for Jill tonight. I head into my bedroom and decide to strip my bed and put on fresh sheets. Not that I expect us to make it in here, but I realize I don’t remember the last time I changed them, so I toss them into the washer and put a clean set on the bed. Once my bed is remade, I pull out the vacuum, hitting up my bedroom, the hall, and the living room.

  Once my house is immaculate, because, apparently, I really want to impress Jill tonight with a sparkling clean house, I set out the items I need for tonight, verifying that I have everything and didn’t miss picking anything up. I put one of the wines I picked up in the fridge to chill and the other on the counter, pulling out the opener, so I have it handy for when Jill arrives.

  I kick back on the couch, turning on the TV while I wait for Jill to call or text me to let me know she’s off work and on her way over. Since she wasn’t one hundred percent certain on what time she’d get out of work, I figured I’d wait until she let me know she was done to start actually cooking.

  Jill: Just leaving work! Do you need me to pick up anything on my way?

  John: Nope, all good here. I’ll go ahead and start the food.

  Jill: Sounds good, I’m starving, didn’t really get much of a lunch today as we had an urgent add on.

  John: Well, you’re in luck because I have a full meal, including dessert here for you tonight.

  Jill: Dang, a girl could get used to that. {winky face}

  John: Anytime. {winky face}

  I head for the kitchen, setting my phone down on the cradle I have for it on the counter. I assemble the chicken, placing it in the hot skillet to sear it before adding the chicken stock for it to simmer in for the remainder of the time. Once that’s set up, I start the rice just about the time my buzzer rings. I answer the call, buzzing Jill up to my unit. I quickly wash my hands off, then head for the door. Opening it, I stand just outside the door in the hall and wait as Jill comes off the elevator and down the hall. She’s dressed in a pair of shorts and a tank top, yet looks gorgeous, like she could walk down a runway if she wanted.

  “Hi.” She smiles up at me as she stops just inches in front of me.

  “Hello yourself,” I say, pulling her against me. After our hot as hell kiss last night, all I want to do is taste her lips once again, so I drop my lips to hers and do just that. I pull her with me inside my condo, kicking the door shut with my foot, all the while my lips are still fused to hers. I feel as her fingers dig into my skin, first on my biceps and then as her hands makes their way up my arms and neck and then into my hair. I cup her face, angling her just right to deepen the kiss even more. I could devour her like this all night and be a happy man. Our impromptu make-out session is interrupted when the timer in my kitchen starts going off, signaling that it’s time to finish the sauce up for the chicken.

  “Guess that’s my signal to stop kissing you for now.”

  “For now,” she agrees as I step back and head for the kitchen. She follows closely behind, leaning against the counter as she watches me remove the chicken from the pan and add the heavy cream and cornstarch to thicken the sauce up. She presses her fingers against her kiss swollen lips, making me wish mine were still fused with them.

  “Can I get you something to drink? I picked up a couple bottles of wine, a white and red, I didn’t know what you prefer.”

  “I’m good with a Chardonnay,” Jill says as I stir the sauce. I step away from the stove long enough to grab two glasses from the cabinet and the bottle of wine from the fridge. I stir the sauce quick, then pop the cork and pour us both a glass.

  “Is there anything I can help with?” Jill asks as I hand over her glass of wine.

  I watch as she takes a sip. I watch the way her throat moves as she swallows it down, and fuck do I want to put my lips on that skin. My dick twitches in my shorts at the thought of stripping her out of her clothes right here, right now.

  “John, I think it’s going to boil over,” Jill says, pointing at the pan behind me.

  “Fuck!” I curse, turning quickly and removing the pan from the burner before I make a mess of our dinner. I transfer everything to serving dishes and carry it, with Jill’s help, to my small table. Once everything is on the table, I pull Jill’s chair out for her, then my own once she’s seated. We each quickly fill our plates.

  “This is amazing. Do you cook like this every night?” Jill asks as she cuts into her food.

  “No, while I enjoy cooking, I hate doing it for just myself. I usually just cook up a few days’ worth of meals one day a week and then just reheat things throughout the week. Makes it so I don’t have to do a bunch of dishes each night, and so I don’t have to eat the same meal over and over, finishing up leftovers. I’ll grill up chicken and then use it a bunch of different ways, or steaks and cut them up for different things. When I used to have teammates living with me, I’d cook more often since they’d be here to eat.”

  “How many of the guys have you lived with over the years?” she asks.

  “A lot.” I chuckle, thinking back, probably five or six of them—some longer than others. “I swear, some of them only put the address down as a legal address but hardly ever lived here because they were always staying over with a girlfriend. We were always pretty protective of this place, not really having women over since it’s sometimes hard to determine what ones are just after us because of our job and who’s in it for the person under that public persona.”

  “Is that hard to deal with?”

  “In my early years, it was every young twenty-something single guy’s dream to have all these women throwing themselves at us every way we turned, but it also got old really quick. It only took me a season or so to pick the puck bunnies out from across the room. I won’t lie and tell you I never took what some were offering, but I quickly learned to be more selective in those I kept company with.”<
br />
  “I can’t imagine throwing myself at a guy just because of his job,” Jill muses.

  “Most of them are out there doing it to either have ‘bragging’ rights amongst their friends, or some do it for the wrong reasons, and that is to try and trap a guy with a kid, thinking that it will be a big payout. I’ve known a handful of guys that that’s happened to and now they’ve got kids in cities they only make it to a handful of nights a year and baby mamas with more drama than a sorority house. It’s sad because it’s the kid that suffers the most.”

  “That is really shitty. Those poor kids.”

  “Yep.”

  “You aren’t one of those guys, are you? With a kid in another city?” she asks, stopping to take a sip of her wine.

  “Nope. No kids for me so far,” I tell her, taking a drink of my own glass.

  “Do you want kids?” she asks.

  “I’m not against having them, I’ve just never found someone I’d want to settle down with and start a family with. Hockey has always been my priority. Now with that coming to an end, I can see it possibly happening. Although, it will probably have to happen in the next couple of years or else, I’ll be the old dad.”

  “I think biological clocks only pertain to women,” she teases me.

  “In fertility, maybe, but I don’t want to be a new dad at fifty. As it is already, I’ll be closer to forty, most likely.”

  “Forty is the new thirty,” Jill retorts.

  “Maybe. But I also have to worry about what lasting effects my TBI will have on me. I wouldn’t want to subject my future wife and kids to a life filled with having to take care of me because things go badly.”