Page 5

THREE

CHARLIE

Two Days Before The Season Starts

I look up at the second-story balcony that’s right over the front door and frown. Seems like a very fairy-tale detail to add to a house, very Romeo and Juliet and such.

I don’t like it.

“Oh, Charlie, this is gorgeous,” Mom says from beside me.

“It’s only a rental,” I grunt and pull out the two suitcases I traveled with.

“Still. You know it’s important to live in a place you like. And if you can’t, then you?—”

“Make it into one.” I finish the sentence she’s said to me about a million times throughout my thirty-three years of life.

“That’s right,” she says and turns to look at me with the stink-eye that always keeps me and my brothers in line. “When can we go in?” she asks, looking back at the front door of the too-big house I’m renting for a year. It was the only house I could find at a week’s notice and that met all my needs. It’s private... set back from the main road by a discreet driveway. It doesn’t have a fence or a gate, but you can’t even see the house from the street. The huge gym will help me in the coming weeks while I’m playing catch-up with my new teammates too. I need to get back to my usual start-of-the-season shape, and that won’t happen in less than a month if I only work out during practice and training.

“The realtor should be here any minute.”

I keep unloading the rental I got at the airport while I was waiting for Mom’s flight to land, and set everything up on the steps right up front.

“It’s a good thing you managed to change the destination of all your furniture.”

“Yeah, I know. Seems like fate actually, since I got the call the day before they came to pick it all up.” I speak without thinking and regret it the instant I close my mouth. Why did I have to use that word?

“I know you don’t believe that, Charlie.” Mom walks over and looks up at me with her indulgent smile.

“But you do.” I shrug and turn away. I can’t quite seem to look her in the eyes. “You believe in fate.” I try to sound cheerful as I shift the suitcases around for no reason.

“I know you’re just indulging me, but I do. I think everything happens for a reason, even the worst things in life.”

“Mom—” I start to object to this line of thinking. It never leads anywhere good between us.

“I know, I know,” she placates. “You know better than your brothers how happy your father was. He loved his home, he loved me, he loved you three devils, and he not only loved his job but he took pride in it. It took me a long time to see it, but he had a good life. Too short, but a good one. I have to believe it was his time, Charlie. I have to.”

“Why are we talking about this now?” I demand tiredly. I’m tired of not being able to see it like she does. I’m tired of trying to defend my anger at fate.

“Because you, Charlie Heart, are a planner. I think you’ve known you were going to retire at the end of last season for at least five years. You always plan everything, which I know is my fault because I’m so disorganized and that left a mark on you. But still, planning gives you peace of mind and you’re good at it. So it works. But when you called about this... well, you have to call it a scheme, don’t you?”

She chuckles lightly before going on. I finally turn to look at her again and she has her face tilted up, looking at the stupid balcony. It’s only a rental and only for a year , I remind myself.

“You wouldn’t have called me if you didn’t want to do this. If you didn’t want to play for one more year. For some reason you wanted this enough to deviate from your plan .” She says that last word with mock reverence and now it’s me giving her the stink-eye.

“I want a Stanley Cup win.” My words are simple and true. I do want to hold that trophy, more than is sane or healthy probably, but in my experience that’s the only way to get it. If you and the people around you want it so damn much that you’re willing to do damn near anything to get it.

“You do. But you also wanted to see if you could be as good in another environment.” She knows me too well. “I know you would’ve left Atlanta ages ago if you could’ve. If they hadn’t basically trapped you ten years ago with pretty words and a prettier contract.”

“I didn’t?—”

“Do it for the money,” she finishes for me. “Yes I know that’s not why you signed back then, but it didn’t hurt. Just like it doesn’t hurt now.” I concede her point with a nod. “All I’m trying to say, honey, is that you have dreams, and you have high hopes for this year. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that you have all of your hopes pinned on this. So be careful.”

She steps up and puts a hand on my arm while her bright caramel eyes lock onto mine earnestly. I open my mouth but don’t really know what to say. It turns out I don’t need to because a sleek silver Range Rover turns into the driveway at that moment. It’s the realtor.

We busy ourselves going in and getting the tour of the four-bedroom house. It’s more than I need but I have a lot of furniture I didn’t want to send to Crushville to clutter Mom’s garage. Since my house is still being built, it was going to stay in a container for a few months anyway, so I brought it all here instead.

The realtor leaves just as the moving truck gets here and so Mom and I get busy. I feel gratitude fill me as she helps direct the movers to where everything needs to go. I might be well on my way to my mid-thirties, but I’m never going to turn down my mom’s help when it comes to putting a house together.

It’s eight o’clock by the time the movers leave, and I want to groan at the thought that I need to go out now but I don’t let it out.

“I’m going to bed,” Mom tells me before she lets out a big yawn.

“So early?” I ask.

“It’s late for me,” she points out, since yeah, it is late in Crushville right now. “I got up way too early and worked way too much today. And tomorrow is bound to be just as full a day. So you go to your meeting and we’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay. I’m going to see if there’s a twenty-four hour store around so I can at least get the makings for a good breakfast.”

“Good idea, honey.” She goes to her tiptoes to kiss my cheek then climbs the stairs over to the guest bedroom we set up for her earlier.

I sigh, rub my eyes hard, and then decide to just get on with it .

I text Gab that I’m done and on my way like she asked that I do, then climb into the rental SUV—I can’t wait for my car to get here—and follow my phone’s commands to her place.

It’s not far, only a few miles down the highway, further from the city but inside a very impressive gated community. It’s full of huge houses you can only see the roof of from the road, and her iron gates open only a few seconds after I hit the buzzer.

There’s another car in the driveway and I suspect it’s Gab’s, but I’m wondering if I got everything about this meeting wrong when Jules Dupont opens the front door.

“Hello,” he says evenly. His eyes scan over my face like he’s looking for something. The way he studies me makes me feel uneasy, which is weird. Both him studying me and me feeling uneasy, I mean.

“Hey,” I reply, trepidation clear in my voice. I give him an up-nod, which he returns, and after another long moment he opens the door wider and steps aside.

“Come on in, Gab’s excited to meet you.”

“I’m not gonna lie, I’m excited too.” I don’t know why I confess it to him, I barely know Jules, but I think being honest is the best way to go with my new captain. Although maybe I won’t have a choice on the matter. I have no idea if he knows about Gab’s predicament . Maybe I’m going to have to lie to him. At best it’s omitting the truth.

Out of the corner of my eyes I see Jules smirk at my words, so I guess it’s a good thing I spoke my thoughts out loud in any case.

“Can’t blame you,” he says in a lazy drawl. We walk in silence the rest of the way and I focus on the house for the first time. It’s all modern white furniture and sharp edges, but the walls full of frames with what are clearly family pictures bring the space the warmth of a home. I don’t know why, but this isn’t what I was expecting.

We walk into a big room full of plush sofas and comfortable-looking chairs. A huge flat screen hangs above a lit fireplace and the woman herself is sitting on an ottoman and clearly focused on whatever it is she sees on the tablet in front of her.

She looks up at the sound of our feet coming down the small step and smiles widely at me.

“Took you long enough,” is her only greeting. She stands and walks over. It’s only when she’s standing right in front of me, looking up into my eyes that I realize how short she is. Only in stature, because I feel the weight of her presence and of her stare instantly. This woman knows exactly who she is, what she stands for, and the power she holds.

I like her immediately.

“Ma’am,” I tell her with a nod. “Nice to meet you.”

“Well, look at that, a boy with manners,” she drawls, and looks sideways at Jules who rolls his eyes at her. It seems wrong that he’d be so disrespectful to her but she ignores him. There must be a lot of familiarity between them .

There sure is more trust and simple care between them than there ever was with me and the owner of the Atlanta Revenge, which wouldn’t take much admittedly. I think I barely talked to the man for a combined hour in the fifteen years I worked for him.

And that’s another reason—one I didn’t tell my mother about—why I decided to piss off everyone in Atlanta and come out of retirement. For this woman right here. For Gab fucking Darnell. Yes, winning a Stanley Cup is the ultimate goal for this season, but getting the chance to be part of an organization that’s run well—or at least run better than the Revenge—was too good to pass up.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I tell her, figuring it’s the best way to start out.

“Nice to meet you too, Charlie Heart. Do you want me to call you by your nickname?” she asks with a straight face. Something tells me she doesn’t want to do that but would agree if I say yes, so I put her at ease.

“Not necessary.” I turn to look Jules in the eyes. “From anyone. Charlie’s just fine.”

“It’s just that I call my babies sweetheart, so...” I smile as she trails off with a shrug.

“Yeah, I don’t know if I want to piss off Ster by calling you that,” Jules agrees.

I barely manage to keep my smile in place and my eyes open normally at the casual way Jules drops that bit of info. It’s not the fact that he’s referring to a man or that he’s married to a man, it’s the fact that that man is Sterling .

I’m a fan.

Of course I’m a fucking fan. Anyone with a brain should be a fan of him and his music, just like anyone who enjoys hockey—playing or watching—should be a fan of Jules “Picard” Dupont.

But Jules doesn’t have that effect on me for whatever reason. Maybe because I’m a hockey player too? Maybe because I’ve faced off against him more than a handful of times and some of those I’ve come away with the puck?

He’s still the best fucking player in the world, I’m well aware of that, but he’s not unreachable. And he seems so human right now, talking about his husband the way anyone married would.

I like that too.

“Right, so I have to go home or else there’ll be hell to pay,” he tells Gab with a nod and then claps me on the shoulder. “See you tomorrow.” That’s more directed at me than at Gab, so I nod back then turn back to Gab.

“You want anything to drink?” she asks way too casually. “Or eat?” she screws up her face in confusion. “What time is it?” Not waiting for an answer, she goes back to her tablet and checks the time. “Damn, it’s late. Let’s order something, shall we?”

“Sure,” I say low. I can’t believe this is how she is with her players. I don’t think there’s another team owner in the world who’s like this. I sure as hell haven’t met one.

“You have any preferences?” she asks without looking up from her phone .

“Not really. Although I’d like some carbs and protein.” My stomach grumbles just then and I realize I haven’t eaten as much as I need to today. It’s going to be tough getting back in shape. Although I’ve kept up some in the gym, it’s nowhere near what I need to do to be season-ready.

“I know just the thing.” Gab makes the call and I decide to sit on the couch next to her ottoman and wait for her to tell me what she needs from me—besides signing the final contract of course.

It’s only then it dawns on me that she told the team, or Jules at least, about me coming here. All before I signed on the dotted line.

“So you told the team already, huh?” I ask as soon as she puts her phone on the table.

“Yeah, I told them five days ago when everything was agreed on.” She looks straight at me with an expression that clearly expects trouble. She shouldn’t be worried, I’m not about to argue with her about anything. But I do have questions.

“Who knows about the favor?” I decide being vague is the best way to go but I get the least expected reaction.

She snorts as she sits back down.

“No one. Are you crazy?” She laughs loudly and looks at me like I’m a foolish little child. “I’m not happy about asking this of you. I’m not happy that I feel like it needs to be done. The last thing I would do is tell anyone who might mistake my motives. ”

I do wonder about those motives, but I hardly think I’m in any position to question them.

“So only you and I know the real reason why I’m here?” I ask just to make sure.

“I promise,” she says with a nod, and holds up her palm as if swearing on a Bible. “Only we know.”

“Right.” I take a deep breath then rest my forearms on my knees and lean forward. “Then let’s see that contract so we can make this official. Then I need to eat, and then I need you to tell me where I can go get some food for breakfast.”

She smiles at me almost indulgently, definitely leaning on maternal, and for whatever reason, I love it.

“I’ll put stuff together for you so you can take it home and get to sleep. You can stock up tomorrow.”

That simple offer, that careless way she offers me food from her pantry... it tells me everything I need to know about Gabrielle Darnell. She just welcomed me into the team with that offer, and I’m pretty sure she thinks of it as her family.

As someone who values family above everything, I feel the weight of it.

“Thank you,” I tell her, with emotion clear in my words.