Dylan: So far, so good. Got my head back in the game. I felt good out there last night. Hopefully, that carries over into tomorrow night's game.
JC: I’m sure it will. Do your best to block out the outside noise that will distract you and keep you from playing to your full potential; we all know you’re able to play at.
Dylan: You sound like my girlfriend. Are you sure she hasn’t been texting you?
JC: Nope, but she sounds like a good one.
Dylan: The absolute best. She’s been my rock for so many years. She is always encouraging and pushing me to be the best that I can be while she’s kicking ass herself.
JC: I can tell you that having a good woman in your corner makes a world of difference. And that’s something that I’m just now learning, so for you to have that and know it at such a young age is light years ahead of where I was at when your age.
Dylan: I don’t plan to ever let her go.
I slip my phone back into my pocket, joining the rest of my team in a private banquet room set up with lunch for all of us. We had today off between road games. After our win against Pittsburgh last night, we traveled across the state this morning, so we’re ready to play Philadelphia tomorrow. We move on to a few other East Coast teams before returning home to Indianapolis.
“How’s it going?” I ask Beckett as I take a seat next to him at one of the round tables set up around the room. They’re spaced out, giving us plenty of room to pull chairs out and walk around without tripping over each other.
“Good, and yourself?” he asks, setting his glass of ice water back on the table. I dig into my lunch, seeing as how I’m all of a sudden starving.
“Can’t complain. Redeemed myself with last night's game; now I just need to continue to have games like that one,” I tell him honestly. The worst thing that can happen right now is me not pulling my weight for the team.
“You’re doing good, Soupy. We can’t all have perfect games every night, so don’t let one bad game overshadow the rest.”
“I swear y’all must talk to my girlfriend.” I laugh. “JC basically said the same thing when I was texting with him earlier, and my girlfriend, Hailey, said that, as well.”
“It's easy for everyone on the outside looking in to say things like that since they aren’t actually living it. It doesn’t negate the advice, though. Sometimes that’s exactly what you need to get a new perspective, and it will completely change how to do something. And those changes are usually for the better,” Beckett tells me.
A few other guys fill in the table, and we shoot the shit as we eat our lunch. Being one of the new guys on a team can sometimes be weird. You have to figure out where the bromances are already formed, find chemistry with others on the ice with those that will be your usual linemates, but also work well with everyone else on the team because you can be switched up at any time if Coach feels like things aren’t working, or god forbid someone gets hurt, and lines have to be shifted around to accommodate the hole in the lineup.
Thankfully, I’ve fit right into this team. While they like to give me shit for being a rookie in the NHL, the guys have been pretty great. I might be young—by years—compared to most of them, but they don’t rub it in too much.
“What are you up to this afternoon?” Beckett asks as he finishes off his lunch.
“No plans. Do you have something going on?” I ask.
“I was going to go over to the mall. I need to pick up something for Julia. We could hit up the movie theater. See if anything good is playing.”
“Sure, I’ve got nothing better to do. Maybe I’ll find something for Hailey for Christmas,” I tell him.
“You’ve been with her a long time, yeah?” he asks.
“Since we were both fifteen,” I tell him.
“Damn, that’s a long time, especially at your age.”
“She’s a keeper, that’s for sure. Has always supported me and my dreams.”
“I understand the feeling of finding the right one. Julia snuck her way into my life, and I couldn’t imagine it without her, at this point.”
“How was it when you guys first started dating? Didn’t I hear correctly that her dad is Soaps?” I ask, referring to the goalie coach, of all people.
“Yep. Total cliché, dating my coach’s daughter, well, now I’m marrying her.” He chuckles.
“Matt, all cool with that, then?”
“He’s been pretty damn cool with it all since early on. I’d made it a much bigger issue in my mind than it ended up being. He’s pretty chill; I couldn’t ask for better soon-to-be in-laws. Her brothers are also pretty cool. They both play, as well, both on college scholarships right now.”
“Cool. Good for you, man; Hailey’s family has been friends with my family for as long as I can remember. I think our moms always secretly hoped we’d end up dating. High school rolled around, and we couldn’t fight our attraction to each other anymore, and well, the rest is history.”
“What is she studying?”
“She’s currently working on her bachelor’s in sports medicine, but she wants to continue on to med school once she's done with her undergraduate, eventually becoming a doctor.”
“Sounds like she’s got just as big of dreams as you do,” he comments.
“She does, and I’m so fucking proud of her. She’s on a full-ride academic scholarship. She works her ass off to keep up her grades, taking the largest load of classes the school will allow one person to take, which I think is around eighteen, maybe twenty credit hours this semester.”
“Wow,” Beckett says. “Sounds like a determined woman.”
“Determined is one way I’d describe her.” I chuckle.
“You ready to go?” Beckett asks, pushing his chair back and standing from the table. He picks up his dirty plate and other trash, taking it over to the collection bin for dirty dishes, along with trash cans. I follow his lead, standing and clearing my own trash from the table.
“I need to swing by my room, first, if you don’t mind,” I tell him. “I need my wallet before we go.”
“No problem,” he replies. “I’ll just meet you in the lobby, then.”
I head for my room, grabbing my wallet from the nightstand before I go back out and down to the lobby so I can meet up with Beckett a few minutes later.
“Oh-My-God, Oh-My-God, Oh-My-God!” I hear a chick’s screechy voice start screaming as soon as I exit the elevator. I look around for Beckett and for where the noise is coming from. My guess is someone recognized one or more of my teammates. Puck bunnies are a real thing. I shudder at the thought of them. I dealt with a few last seasons, playing in the AHL, trying to get my attention, but they quickly learned I wasn’t available.
I round the corner, seeing a small group of girls surrounding Beckett, our captain, Mark Lee, and Chris, another new guy to the team, just not new to the league. He was an offseason trade the team made.
I slowly approach the group, trying to stay to the outskirts so I don’t end up amongst the group of women trying to get a rise from any of us. I know Mark is obviously taken, since he’s married to the team owner, and Beckett is engaged to a coach’s daughter, so that leaves Chris. I haven’t really talked to him much in my short time with the team, so I’m not sure about his relationship status.
“Sorry, ladies, we’re not able to accompany you on your request. As much as we like to appease fan requests, your propositions wouldn’t be ones our significant others would be okay with, so out of respect to the women in our lives, I’m going to kindly ask all of you to leave,” Mark says, his commanding tone tells anyone within earshot he isn’t fucking around. I can only imagine what the proposition was from this group of women.
“Hey, handsome.” One of the chicks turns her attention my way, her fingertips landing on my chest as she attempts to run them down my torso. I grab her by the wrist before she’s even made it two inches, moving her hand from my body.
“Don’t touch me,” I grit out. “I’m not available,” I tell
her as sternly as I possibly can.
“Leave the kid alone,” Mark bellows from beside me. “If you don’t exit the hotel in the next thirty seconds, I’ll call security and have you escorted off the property,” he tells the group of women.
They must hear the seriousness in his voice as they all tuck tail and hurry out of the lobby. “Sorry about that, kid,” Mark says. “She was pretty bold touching you like that. Just be careful with how you remove them. Some are looking for any reason to turn you into a paycheck.”
“Thanks for the advice.”
“Hotel security is usually better about keeping out the groupies, so sorry about that.”
“Not your fault.”
“Now that the excitement is over, are we ready to head for the mall?” Beckett asks.
“I’m ready,” I answer.
“Let’s go,” Mark adds. I follow Beckett out of the lobby and pull my jacket's collar up to help fight off the bite of cold the wind creates. We quickly close the distance to the corner where we have a crosswalk to walk across that takes us to the big mall. The proximity makes it super easy to pop over with an off day like today.
We walk around, hitting up a handful of stores as Beckett searches for the perfect gift for Julia. I keep my eyes open for something for Hailey, but nothing jumps out at me by the time we’re done.
We find a movie that sounds good and grab tickets for the next showing. The movie doesn’t start until seven, so we grab some dinner at a restaurant to pass the time until then.
Chapter Four
Hailey
I turn my phone on as soon as the airplane’s wheels touch the ground. The excitement coursing through my blood had me practically bouncing in my seat the entire flight from LAX to Indianapolis. It has been fourteen weeks since I last touched Dylan. Fourteen long-ass weeks, not that I’ve been counting or anything.
Hales: Landed!! Can’t wait to jump into your arms in just a few more minutes.
Dylan: Can’t wait, babe. I’m already here and ready for you.
I took my last final of the semester this morning. As soon as I was done, I ran back to my dorm, tossed the last-minute items into my suitcase, and Ubered my way to the airport. Most people would have waited until tomorrow to fly out, but I couldn’t stand the thought of one extra day separating Dylan and me.
Once the plane is parked at the gate, I collect my items and slowly—thanks to everyone in front of me moving at the speed of molasses—make my way off the plane and into the terminal. I skirt around the slow walkers, stopping for a quick pit stop in the first women’s bathroom I come across—that damn large coffee and bottle of water I grabbed at the LA airport has gone right through me. After taking care of business and washing my hands, I pull the hair tie from my long blonde locks, letting my hair fall down my back. I finger comb it a few times, attempting to make it look like it hasn’t been kept up in a messy bun for the last week straight while I crammed for all my finals.
I give up making it look any better, not really wanting to waste any more time on it. Dylan has seen me looking so much worse, and he’s never cared, so I grab my carry-on bag and take off for the security checkpoint where I know he’ll be waiting for me.
I round the corner and can see the exit from here. My excitement ramps up, knowing that in just a matter of a minute or so, our wait will be over. I’ll be back in the love of my life’s arms, and everything will be right once again in my world.
I power walk the distance away, not wanting to take any extra time getting to Dylan. As soon as I clear the secured area, my eyes scan the crowd until they land on him. My smile about cracks my face; it's so large. He pushes off the pillar he’s leaning against as I head his way. I drink him in as I close the distance. Once we’re only a few inches apart, I let go of my carry-on bag and launch myself into his arms. He quickly catches me, his hands going to my ass as he lifts me up. My legs instantly wrap around his waist as our lips find one another. I run my hands through his hair, holding on tight as we deepen the kiss. I want him anchored to me, without any space between us anytime soon. The feel of his hands squeezing my ass has my body strumming to life. I can’t wait to get back to his place and drop the clothes. I need my man naked and making me scream his name ASAP.
“Let’s get out of here,” Dylan says, breaking our kiss. I slide down his body, not missing the bulge in his joggers.
“If you insist,” I smirk, not entirely breaking contact with him. He grabs my bag and leads the way to the baggage claim area.
I slip my hand into his, always amazed at how large he feels when we’ve been away from one another for a while and then getting back together. It’s the little things like the feel of my hand in his that I start to forget as the weeks stretch out when we’re apart. We talk daily, usually at least once on FaceTime, so we get that visual connection. Still, we can’t ever replace the physical connection we get to have when we’re together, no matter how good technology gets.
“How many bags did you check?” he asks as we find the carousel for my flight.
“Just one suitcase,” I tell him as he finds a pillar to lean against while we wait for the bags to start coming out. He tugs me to stand facing him, his legs braced out to give me a pocket to stand in, allowing him to protect me from everyone around us.
“You packed light,” he teases, and I stick my tongue out at him.
“I think your bag is up,” he says, looking at the carousel over my shoulder. I turn to look, and sure enough, my bag is leading the pack of luggage. Dylan beats me to it, snagging the suitcase from the belt. I take my carry-on as he takes my main bag, and we head for the parking garage.
“Did you get a car here?” I ask, knowing he’s been reliant on his teammates for rides and such.
“Just a rental, for now. I got things set up to ship my car to me since I don’t have the time to get it myself. It should be here by the end of the week.”
“Oh, that’s good,” I tell him as we exit the airport. The chill in the air hits me, and I pull my jacket a little tighter. I’m not in California anymore, and it is evident by the fact I can see my breath in the air. “Fuck, it is cold here,” I comment as we come to a stop at a car. He pops the trunk, then places my bags inside.
“I’ll warm you right up, babe,” he says, crowding me against the passenger side door and dropping his lips to my neck. I tilt my head, giving him easier access. Between the chill in the air and his breath and nose against my skin, a shiver racks my body, but I’ve never been hotter than right now.
“Take me home, Dyl,” I say all breathily. “I need you.”
He backs up, then reaches around me to open the door for me. He stands there while I slide into the seat. He watches me while I buckle up, then leans in and kisses me before he shuts the door and rounds the car before settling himself into the driver’s seat.
He navigates the city quickly, thanks to the GPS on his phone. It takes us about fifteen minutes to make it to an apartment building, the one that Johnathan helped him get a unit in so he could move out of the hotel the team had put him up in.
“If you’re up to it, I’d like to go to Ikea later today or tomorrow. I desperately need some things for my apartment, but wanted your help picking stuff out,” he tells me as he pulls into an underground garage and then into a numbered spot.
“Fancy, fancy. Assigned garage spots and everything.”
“It’s a pretty nice building. Has a workout facility, not that I need access to it with having access to the team’s facilities, but it’s here if I want it or if you want to use it.”
“Good to know,” I muse as we both get out of the car. Dylan pops the trunk and grabs my bags out. He takes the larger one again while I take the smaller one. I follow him over to the elevator, which opens right away. Once on, he pushes the button for the fourth floor, and it whisks us away.
“This is home,” Dylan says, pushing the door open as we step inside. I look around at a mostly bare apartment. The door opens into the living room, whi
ch is open to the kitchen and dining room areas, all noticeable where they’re supposed to be based on each area's lighting. He’s got two bar stools pulled up to the island, a camping chair set in the middle of the empty room with a box next to it, and a TV hung on the wall, another box under it holding up his X-box and cable box.
“I see you’ve set up the important stuff,” I say, rolling my eyes at him.
“I told you I needed your help picking things out and getting it all set up.”
“I hope you’re not sleeping on the floor or an air mattress.” I cringe at the thought.
“Nope, I did buy a bed. I couldn’t handle not having a good night’s sleep with the battering my body takes at practice and games.”
“Okay, well,” I say, turning in a circle as I take some mental images of the space. “Let me have a few minutes to decompress after my flight today, and then we can take some measurements and maybe head out to the store. You’re not going to be able to fit much in your car, so we’ll be limited on what we can bring home today unless you know someone with a truck that would let you borrow it for a few hours.”
“I can text JC. I noticed his truck in the garage, so it looks like he’s home. He’d probably let me borrow his.”
“Perfect,” I say, taking my suitcase into what I assume is the bedroom since it's one of only two open doors off the living room.
Much like the rest of the place, his room only has the bare necessities—a bed with a box next to it acting as a nightstand. The attached bathroom has his toiletries on the counter, a towel hanging from the bar on the wall, and some shampoo and body wash in the shower. My mind is already racing at everything we need to pick up at the store for his place, but it makes me feel that much happier that he wanted me to help him set everything up. I love it when he wants my input. It makes me feel like we’re in this together. Even when we’re thousands of miles apart, he wants my touch to be around him.
Rookie Move (Indianapolis Eagles Series Book 9) Page 3