Page 5

Chapter 5

Garrett

W ith the meeting over and practice about to begin, I try to gather my thoughts.

I’m in absolute shock over seeing Cyn at the meeting. What are the odds, for Christ’s sake?

"You alright there, Hughes?" Coach Martinez claps me on the shoulder.

I blink, trying to regain my composure. No way I’m talking to him about this. Not yet, at least. "Yeah, just...taking everything in."

"Quite a team we've assembled, huh?" Martinez asks proudly.

I nod, distracted. "Impressive for sure. I’m looking forward to meeting everyone individually." I’m particularly interested in talking to one very sexy Blades employee.

My mind continues to race. Out of all the NHL teams, we both end up working with the Blades. It’s so funny to me now that we talked extensively about hockey in Vegas but neither of us revealed how deeply entrenched in hockey we actually are.

What role does she play on the team? Is she a doctor? A trainer? Or maybe she works as a scout?

I've thought about her constantly since Vegas, kicking myself for not getting her number.

I can still see her long, wavy blonde hair cascading down her back, framing her radiant face and sparkling emerald eyes. Her form-fitting dress hugged her curves in all the right places, showing off her athletic and toned body.

The way her soft, silky skin felt against mine. Her eager hands had explored every inch of me, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

"Hughes? You with me?" Coach looks at me, obviously wondering what has me so distracted.

"Sorry, Coach. It's been a whirlwind few days."

He chuckles. "Well, buckle up, buttercup. It only gets crazier from here. Let's introduce you to some of the team."

I follow him into the locker room where quite a few of the guys are there suiting up for afternoon practice.

One player in particular, Nate Barnes, also known as Barnesy, is a good-looking kid but seems unusually cocky and full of himself. I make a mental note to take him down a peg or two as soon as I get a chance.

Barnesy enthusiastically takes me aside and informs me that he’s the best player on the team but is underappreciated. He wants to be acknowledged more for his skills and leadership abilities.

As he finishes his self-praising monologue, I can't help but raise an eyebrow at his arrogance. "Interesting, Barnesy. I look forward to seeing those skills in action during practice," I reply with a hint of skepticism.

Barnesy smirks, clearly unfazed by my response. "Oh, you'll see, Coach Hughes. Just watch and learn."

Coach Martinez steps in, sensing the tension building between us. "Alright, enough ego-boosting for one day, Barnesy. Let's focus on getting ready for practice."

With a dismissive nod, he heads back to his locker, leaving me and Coach Martinez exchanging knowing looks.

"He's a talented player, no doubt about it," Coach comments quietly as we watch him walk away. "But sometimes he lets his ego get the best of him."

I nod in agreement, understanding the delicate balance between confidence and humility in team dynamics. I was known to have quite the ego as well back in the day. I’m sure that also contributed to my nickname.

As we continue to make our rounds in the locker room, I meet the rest of the players—each with their own unique personalities and quirks. From the veteran goalie, Evan Daniels, who definitely earns his nickname of Ice Man to the rookie defenseman, Cole Sloane, nervously adjusting his gear, it's clear that this team is a diverse mix of characters.

After the introductions are done, Coach Martinez gathers everyone for a quick pep talk before practice begins. He emphasizes the importance of teamwork and communication on and off the ice, setting the tone for a productive session ahead.

As they hit the ice, I can feel the energy and camaraderie buzzing among the players. The sound of skates slicing through ice, pucks clacking against sticks, and teammates calling out plays fills the air.

I’ve missed this so much. Life without hockey just isn’t the same.

I focus on the opening drills, determined to prove myself and earn my place on this coaching team.

There are a few non-players watching on the sidelines and I glance over to see if Cyn is one of them. I’m disappointed when I don’t see her gorgeous face.

I wonder again what she does for the team and when I’ll find out.

Practice finishes up eventually and Coach and I leave the locker room, continuing down a hallway, discussing how my first practice went.

My curiosity eventually gets the better of me. "So, uh, that staff meeting earlier...quite a diverse group you've got," I say, aiming for casual. I’m hoping he might give me more info about what everyone’s roles are.

Martinez nods. "Best in the league. Speaking of which, next stop's the PT area. It’s where a lot of the magic happens. If these boys’ injuries aren’t addressed, we’ve got serious problems."

We round a corner, and there she is. Cyn. In a navy blue polo and chinos, her blonde hair pulled back. Professional. Poised. Gorgeous.

I watch as Cyn's hands move with practiced precision over a player's shoulder. Her brow furrows in concentration as she applies pressure, testing the joint's mobility. The player winces slightly, but Cyn's reassuring voice soothes him.

"Alright, Jack. We're almost done," she says, her tone professional yet warm.

I can't take my eyes off her. The navy polo hugs her lithe frame, accentuating her toned arms as she works. Her ponytail swings gently with each movement, revealing the graceful curve of her neck. Even in this clinical setting, she's breathtaking.

Cyn glances up, catching my gaze. Her green eyes widen in surprise. She quickly composes herself, turning back to the player she’s working on.

"That's it for today. Continue to ice it for fifteen minutes on the top of every hour until you go to sleep tonight, okay?" she instructs, helping the player sit up.

Jack nods, rolling his shoulder experimentally. "Thanks, Cyn. It’s already starting to feel better."

She smiles, the expression lighting up her entire face. "Just doing my job. Now scoot, I've got more victims waiting."

She looks in my direction and our eyes meet. For a split second, I see excitement in her gaze before it's replaced by polite neutrality. For whatever reason, it’s obvious Cyn isn’t comfortable admitting we know each other and I decide to follow her lead. I’m sure she’s got a good reason.

"Cynthia," Martinez calls out. "Meet Garrett Hughes, our new assistant coach."

She extends her hand, all business. "Welcome to the Blades, Coach Hughes."

I take her hand, fighting to keep my voice steady. "Pleasure to meet you, Cynthia."

Her handshake is firm and impersonal but I feel an almost imperceptible tremble.

"Cynthia's one of our top physical therapists," Martinez explains. “She’s new as well, just joined us within the last six months.”

She smiles and blushes slightly. "I look forward to working with you, Coach."

As Coach Martinez leads me away, I can't help but feel a mix of relief and disappointment. It's clear Cyn wants to keep things professional. I should do the same. I’ve found in the past that mixing business and pleasure always bites me in the ass. And, she’s so young…

But a small part of me wonders: what if?

I stand at the floor-to-ceiling windows of my new condo, gazing out at the glittering Chicago skyline.

I struck gold and stumbled upon this gem after I got my offer with the Blades. It's everything I had envisioned—an incredible view that stretches out for miles, with a modern and sleek design that exudes simplicity. The kitchen is a chef's paradise, equipped with state-of-the-art appliances and ample counter space. I love to cook so a top-notch kitchen was high on my list of necessities. And best of all, the condo is located just ten minutes away from the Blades facility.

The city lights blur as my mind drifts back to Vegas, to Cyn.

"I still can’t believe this," I mutter, running a hand through my hair.

I eventually turn away from the spectacular view, padding across the hardwood floor to my oversized sectional. The buttery leather creaks just a little as I sink into it, grabbing the remote.

"Game time, Shade," I call out.

My black cat materializes from the back bedroom, leaping onto the couch with feline grace. She quickly settles beside me, purring softly.

I always had dogs growing up and never liked cats much. In my mind they were inferior to dogs in every way. But Shade quickly changed my mind on that. She appeared on my doorstep one day shortly after I retired from the NHL and quickly weaseled her way into my heart.

I click on the TV, queuing up Blades footage from last season. The familiar sounds of skates on ice fill the room.

"See that defense, girl? We gotta tighten that up."

Shade blinks at me, unimpressed.

“You disagree, huh?"

The cat stretches out on her side, kneading my thigh with her paws.

"Yea, I’m a little distracted. It's Cyn," I confess. "Remember that girl I told you about? The one in Vegas?"

Shade’s eyes widen as if she’s listening. She is listening, I know it. She’s the best sounding board I’ve ever had.

"Turns out she works for the Blades. As a physical therapist."

I scratch under Shade's chin, mulling over the day's events.

"We need to talk, clear the air. But when? And where?" I groan. "Work romances are such a bad idea. I know that so why do I keep thinking about her?"

Shade meows softly.

"Yeah, you're right. Probably won't happen anyway. But man, that night in Vegas..." I trail off, lost in the memory.

Shade headbutts my hand, demanding attention.

I chuckle. "Sorry, girl. You're right. No point in dwelling on it."

I hit play again on the game footage, trying to focus. But my mind keeps circling back to Cyn's green eyes, her confident smile and that hot as fuck body.

"You’re lucky, girl," I murmur. "Your life's way less complicated than mine. If only I was a cat."

Later, I toss and turn in bed, the sheets tangling around my legs. Sleep eludes me. My mind races, replaying scenes from that night in Vegas.

Cyn's infectious laugh. Her electrifying touch. The way she moved against me, making me want her more than I’ve wanted anyone in a really long time.

"Fuck," I mutter, running a hand over my face.

I'm hard. And painfully so.

I reach down, wrapping my hand around my cock. Fuck, that feels good. Maybe I need a little help getting to sleep.

"This is stupid," I whisper to myself. But I don't stop.

Stroking myself, memories come flooding back. I can almost feel Cyn's soft, warm lips pressing against mine, the taste of her sweet pussy coming back to me. Her glorious soft breasts under my rough hands. I remember the soft, breathy sound she made as she came undone.

My pace quickens. I bite my lip, stifling a groan.

It doesn't take long at all. My body convulses with a shudder, and Cyn's name bursts from my lips in a desperate, fervent cry.

I head to the bathroom to clean up. Looking at my face in the mirror I chide myself. "Get it together, Garrett, You work with this girl. You know better than to shit where you eat.”

Climbing back into bed, I will sleep to come. But Cyn's green eyes follow me into my dreams.