Page 11

CHAPTER 11

YOU'RE LOOKING AT A NEW KAYDEN BOUCHARD

KAYDEN

"What is going on with you?" Brant asks. He and Sammy are standing in the corner of the dressing room, staring at me.

I shrug. "Just on a hot streak. You know how it is." We just closed out a six-one destruction of Ottawa, and I've gotten five points in the two games of this home stand. I'm doing everything I can to prove myself on the ice to the new owners. And even though our date earlier this week didn't end the way I wanted it to, Emory did agree to be my fake girlfriend, so I've got everything off the ice covered too. Things could not be better as I get ready to fly out for our road trip.

"You're in full beast mode," Sammy says. "But it's not that. You're singing. On the ice. During the game."

"And I'm starting to wonder if that dumb-ass smile is glued to your face," Brant adds.

I roll my shoulders in a slow circle to work away any tightness. "I smile. I sing. That's nothing unusual."

They stare at me like they don't believe my answer. "You didn't come out with us after the last game, and you already said you're skipping tonight too." Sammy says it like that's all the proof anyone needs that there's something wrong with me.

"Branny didn't go out after the last game either. "

"No, and you made me wish I did. You spent the whole night texting me stupid facts about foxes."

"That was a good documentary! You can't tell me that the fox in Berlin that stole people's shoes wasn't interesting."

"Oh, I was just riveted by the story. But don't change the subject. I don't go out when we're home because I'm engaged. And I'm the team's official quiet loner. You're not engaged, and you're… you. Something is going on. You always celebrate when you play like this."

I slap my hands on Brant's shoulders. "That's not me anymore, my dude. I don't do that stuff now."

Brant's right. In past seasons, I would have been the first one in the bar or club, flirting with random women, and seeing where things ended up from there. But now? I know my relationship with Emory is fake, but going out almost feels like I'm cheating on her. Even if I don't do anything. It doesn't make sense, but maybe it's just my way of committing to the act.

"Guess you're looking at a new Kayden Bouchard, boys."

"Mm-hmm. You realize none of us believe you, right?" Jonas says from behind. The other guys chuckle, and I clasp my hands to my chest.

"I'm hurt. Not one of you believes me?" I look around the dressing room and every single person is shaking their head no. "I always thought I could count on my own teammates, but I guess not." I turn back to my stall to change into my street clothes.

"Red?" Brant asks.

My heart stutters at the thought that Emory might be here. I turn around, ready to greet her and to warn Brant to never use that nickname again because she hates it. But all I find is Brant standing in front of me, looking at the boxer briefs I just pulled on. It's foolish, but a flicker of disappointment hits me.

"What's wrong with red? I got tired of wearing black all the time."

Before Brant can respond, Coach walks into the dressing room and calls out to him. "Morrison. Press room in five. You owe me, Bouchard. They wanted to interview you."

"I'll do it." I pull on my pants and button my shirt. "As long as I don't have to answer questions about my underwear habits." I flip Brant off.

"Is this underwear thing something I need to know about?" Coach asks. "The answer better be no because I ain't gonna listen either way. You sure you wanna do the presser after last time?"

"It's like falling off a horse," I tell him.

Sammy winces. "I did that once. Thought I broke my arm. It's not fun."

"What I'm saying is I have to do it again sometime. Might as well be now. What's the worst that can happen?"