Page 20 of Defensive Zone (Chicago Thunder #3)
Chapter Nineteen
Zach
It’s official, I’m back. I’ve finally been given the OK to return to the ice by both my doctor and the team’s physician, and tonight’s game in Pittsburgh will mark my return.
I’ve been itching to get back. It felt a lot longer than seven weeks, but the second I was given the thumbs-up to return to practice, I’ve been doing every practice session and spending some time with the defensive coach doing some one-on-one drills. I put one hundred and ten percent into my physiotherapy sessions once my cast was removed, and made sure to do everything that was advised to ensure there weren’t any holdups.
Of course, it wasn’t my wrist that held me up—it was my damn head.
My migraines haven’t gone away. They’re still frequent, and I’m not sure they will ever go away at this point, but I’ve been managing to push through most of the time. Carter has been supportive too, spending his free time researching alternative methods to try and help ease the throbbing ache that seems to be a regular occurrence now.
But if I thought I could get away with hiding it, I would be wrong. I’ve caught Ethan watching me like a hawk, calling me out over the slightest wince during practice.
I’d like to say I’m pissed off about it, but I’m not. How can I be when I’ve got someone looking out for me? I only wish he wouldn’t look so closely because if I admitted to every headache, I’d never get back out here.
Luckily, Ethan’s on the other side of the ice while I’m going through my groin and glute stretches when Jackson drops down beside me and begins to stretch out his hamstrings.
“Have you heard anything from your brother?”
I found out that my brother, Brody, had been traded from New Jersey to Toronto as soon as we landed in Pittsburgh. He’s been unhappy in New Jersey for quite some time, and I knew he had been pushing for a trade, but we’re not as close as people expect us to be.
Growing up, I was constantly compared to Brody. Even our dad would pit us against each other—who could score the most goals, who had more time on ice per game, who had the highest shooting percentage. Brody reveled in the fact he was drafted and I wasn’t because I decided against entering the draft as I wanted to graduate college with Carter. My dad said I was a disappointment to the Reid family name for not following tradition and didn’t speak to me for weeks because of it. Still, I held my head high and worked my ass off in the AHL to make sure I was valuable enough for the Thunder when they called me up that they wouldn’t send me back down.
The hard work paid off, too, because they ended up offering me a full contract, and I’ve been here since.
Turning to Jackson, I shake my head. “No, but we’re playing Toronto when we’re home, so I’ll probably catch him then.”
Jackson’s brows furrow in confusion behind his visor.
I’ve come to accept that while we aren’t that close, Brody loves me in his own weird way. He only checked in on me twice while I was recovering, but I didn’t let it get to me. I just put it down to the fact it’s Brody, and he’s got bigger things to worry about. It’s always bothered Carter more than me. But now isn’t the time to be thinking about my big brother.
The first period goes scoreless and is pretty uneventful. Pittsburgh is on a four-game losing streak, so they’re hungry for a win, but they’re not being very aggressive about it. Elliot slapped every shot on goal away like a bored cat playing with a mouse.
“This game needs to spice up a bit. I’m almost taking a nap out there, boys,” he complains during the intermission while flossing in the middle of the locker room. As in the dance move, not his teeth. “Can you guys get a penalty or something? Make it exciting, like five on three or something, because I’m bored ?—”
“No,” Ethan quickly interrupts, throwing a glare at everyone around the room. “No penalties.”
When we go back out for the second period, Blaine manages to slip one in the top left corner with me getting a point for the assist and putting us up by one. I skate back to the bench, a wide grin on my face as I sit down and squirt some water in my mouth.
“Doing good, Reid?” Peyton asks, knocking my helmet with his.
“Yeah, I’m good.” I nod truthfully.
I’m not sure if I’m just having a good day or if it’s the adrenaline of being back on the ice keeping the headache at bay and I’ll have a migraine when we get back. Either way, I’m taking it as a win.
The game ends with a win of 1-0. Since Elliot had a shutout, he’s been granted control of the post-W playlist. As Kylie Minogue’s “The Loco-Motion” blasts through the speakers in the locker room, a few of the guys dance in their hockey pants and skates, having tossed their jerseys in the laundry hamper. Elliot’s in the middle of the pack, goalie pads still on as he mimics a train with Peyton.
“How did I end up here?” Ethan grumbles under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.
I grin. “You love it.”
The dance-off continues as I hit the showers then change into my suit. There’s no rush to catch a flight as we’re only leaving for New York in the morning, from where we’ll fly back to Chicago after the game. We all pile on the waiting bus that takes us to our hotel before deciding to eat our weight in food and have a beer while running through tonight’s game.
“I think I’m gonna head up,” I say, pushing my chair back and standing up.
“Already?” Elliot frowns. “But we haven’t played darts yet.”
I tap my head with my finger. “I’m tired, and I don’t wanna overdo it by not resting.”
I’m also dying to talk to Carter, but I don’t want to admit that and open myself up to the ribbing we give Blaine over Alex.
“Oh, yeah, for sure.” Elliot nods a few times. “Breakfast at eight, yeah? I hear they have pancakes.”
“You got it, bud.” I hold my fist out and he bumps it, then I say goodnight to the rest of the guys.
I slide my phone out of my pocket as I weave through the tables toward the lobby, quickly typing out a text to Carter.
Zach
I’m about to head up to my room. Are you still awake?
Carter
Yeah I am. I’ve been rocking a boner ever since I saw your gorgeous face on the TV.
I might send those camera people a bottle of nice scotch for the close-up. When you were squirting that water in your mouth, I imagined it was me shooting come down your throat.
Zach
*eye roll emoji* You’re such a horndog.
Carter
Get back to your room, Reid. It’s time to get naked. *devil emoji* *eggplant emoji*
Grinning, I make my way toward the elevator bank, only to end up stopping short when I see Jackson sitting in one of the plush armchairs tapping away on his phone. There’s a deep crease between his brows, and his mouth is tipped downward.
“Hey, you good?” I ask quietly as I approach.
He lifts his head and plasters on a tired smile. “Hey. Yeah, I just checked in with my mom. I missed bedtime, and Isabela wasn’t happy about it.” He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Sometimes she’s fine when I go on the road, but then she can also give my mom such a hard time. I feel like such a shit dad at times.”
I take the seat next to him. The hotel lobby is quiet, despite the noise filtering in from the guys at the bar. “You’re not a shit dad. It’s hard to explain it to them when they’re young.”
Isabela is almost four years old, whereas Ryan is seven and understands Jackson’s job better. Staying with his parents while he’s on the road means they have more stability, but this life is tough. It’s not always glamorous. It’s spending a lot of time separated from the people you love most, and when they’re kids, it can be confusing for them. I know from experience, growing up with my dad in the NHL.
“Exactly.” Jackson drops his phone into his lap and runs a hand through his hair. “Enough about me. How’s your head? How’s Carter doing? Is he missing you yet?” He gives me a teasing smirk, and I can’t stop the wide smile from appearing on my face.
Jackson chuckles. “I take that as a good thing.”
“Yeah, he’s good. I just…” I huff a laugh, almost in disbelief. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel real, you know? It was a pipe dream for so long. I’d accepted that I was never going to be able to act on my feelings, and I was becoming okay with that, but now… Now he feels the same way, and sometimes I have to pinch myself to make sure it’s not a dream. It’s real.”
“I’m really happy it worked out for you both.” He smiles fondly. “Have you discussed what’s going to happen when he goes back to Denver? He’s got a year left on his contract, right?”
“Yeah, that’s right.” I let out a long sigh. “But we haven’t spoken about it, no. I know it’s only six months, seven at most if they make it through to the playoffs, and it’ll help that we’ll both be busy either training or on the road, but it’s still six months…”
He’s silent for a moment, his fingers mindlessly brushing the scruff on his chin. I can sense the wheels turning in his head, but instead of pushing, I wait for him to speak.
“Long distance relationships can be hard, especially when you both play professional sports. Communication is the most important thing, along with trust. You have to make sure you share when you’re uncertain about something, be vulnerable with each other, and be prepared to get creative when it comes to satisfying your needs, if you know what I mean.” He winks.
I chuckle. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
He shocks me when he says, “I am.”
“I thought you and your ex-wife lived together before the divorce?”
“I’m not talking about Laura. This happened over ten years ago. It was in my early days playing in Boston. We met in my rookie year. You know how it goes, puppy love. We thought we could make it work, but when I got traded to Los Angeles, it crumbled. We were on opposite ends of the country, and the distance broke us. We didn’t do any of the things I just advised you to do, and we ended up resenting each other. We fought all the time, and in the end, we called it quits.”
“Shit, I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
He waves it off. “It was a long time ago. Ancient history now. We both moved on—marriage, kids.” He wiggles his phone, and the screen lights up with a photo of Ryan and Isabela on his lock screen. “What I’m trying to say, probably not in the best way, is that you both need to know for certain how it’s going to be when he goes back to Denver and you’re in Chicago. Set your expectations. Nothing will break this down faster than shit communication.”
My phone buzzes in my hand, Carter’s name flashing on the screen with an incoming call.
“You better get that.” Jackson winks and gets up. “I’m gonna have a drink, then head to bed. Go speak to your guy, and I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Night,” I say, waiting until he’s walked away to bring the phone to my ear. “Hey, sorry. I got chatting with Jackson. Give me a minute and I’ll head up to my room.”
Carter doesn’t answer, but I can hear his labored breathing through the line.
Dropping my voice low, I ask, “You didn’t wait for me?”
“I don’t think you understand how horny seeing you on TV made me,” he rasps, and I hear the familiar sound of the lube cap being popped open.
“Fuck,” I groan under my breath, hitting the elevator call button a little harder than necessary. “I’m on my way to my room. Don’t touch yourself until I’m naked. It’s time we discovered just how good video sex can be.”