Page 9

Blinking slowly, I nod at the piece of information I hadn’t known before. “Huh. I wouldn’t have thought he was…”

Clarkson shrugs casually. “It’s not necessarily a secret to a lot of people, but it’s not spoken of either.

There are plenty of players in the league that are out, but there’s still a stigma surrounding certain sexual orientations in professional sports.

Especially hockey. Miller prefers not making a spectacle of his love life. ”

“No shit,” I murmur, shaking my head. Miller is on his way to being one of the best goalies in the league. This season alone, he’s had over 1,300 saves.

Clarkson pulls me back into the conversation with his serious face.

“Look, we have got a good team. Personal lives can get in the way, but when the season gets intense sometimes shit happens. Moskins has been married for over five years but has a girl he sees whenever we hit Seattle. Hell, he’s probably got a girl in a lot of cities.

He makes fucked up choices, but we’re still friends.

A lot of the guys will drink too much, do too many lines, or make too many headlines with affairs or God only knows what else.

But that doesn’t change the fact we’re a team. ”

The Penguin’s captain turns to me with a firm expression tightening his features, and the scar he got from his days with the Chicago Blackhawks that goes from his lower cheek up to the corner of his eyebrow twitches.

“The more you hang out with us, the more secrets you’ll learn.

And that’s what they’ll stay. Some of them are the worst kept ones known to man.

Even if we disagree with what the other guys are doing, we keep out of the business that isn’t ours. Got it?”

Clicking my tongue at his unspoken warning, I nod once. “Got it, Cap.”

“You’ve shut us out all season which is why we never really bothered trying harder to include you,” he tells me.

“But it seems like you could use some friends. Some guidance. That means,” he adds pointedly, brows going up slightly, “that whatever you decide to do with your life will be safe with us as long as it isn’t illegal.

And whatever secrets you don’t want the world to know will be under lock and key too. You have my word.”

His loyalty chips away at some of the protective barrier I built when I signed the contract with Pittsburgh.

You never know what you’re going to get when you join a new team—if people will give you a chance; if they’ll like you, or if they’ll turn their backs without giving a shit about anything you do.

Teammates can still be competitors, not all of them will want to be your friends. At least, that’s what I’m used to. One of my biggest rivals for the past three years was Sebastian Henderson. I used to look up to him until I realized he was one of the people in my way of getting this opportunity.

He knew it too.

But, deep down, it was more than that. Sure, he stood between me and the NHL.

He also stood between me and his little sister.

The second he told me to stay away from her, it was a challenge I personally accepted.

Maybe to be petty, to take something for myself since I didn’t know if I’d ever get this far in my career, or maybe because Olive could hold her own in a conversation.

I don’t know. The only thing I do know is that I had no intention of listening to his warnings.

My eyes go back to the stands and lock on the curvy girl in a Henderson jersey.

I saw her and Sebastian together earlier; felt her eyes on me when I was stretching.

And then I heard her telling one of our coaches that we had a better chance at winning if we switched out our right wing and tried a different formation that focused more on the center’s agility.

And she’s right. Our center is fucking fast, and our right wing has been losing his touch.

As if Henderson can sense who I’m staring at, he skates over and purposefully knocks into me with enough force that I nearly go down.

“Don’t even think about it, O’Conner. My little sister is off limits.”

His little sister . Damn. “I’m not the one staring. Not my fault she has taste.”

I swear he growls.

I grin. “I like a girl with substance.”

He gets in my face. “If you touch her, I will do everything in my power to fuck up your life. Do you understand me?”

All I do is laugh, because it’s comical. After all, he doesn’t know how fucked up my life already is. My eyes slowly find their way back to his sister when one of the guys breaks up our standoff. Even though it’s impossible to be sure from all the way down here, I know she’s staring directly at me.

The memory brings back a wave of nostalgia.

In our world, we don’t get many chances to prove ourselves—it’s eat or be eaten. Henderson made sure to put himself first so he could sign with the Rangers, and I’m sure he’s still doing the same for headlines and endorsements. He wanted it all and had no intention of sharing anybody’s attention.

So having Olive’s…shit, it felt like I had everything. When it stopped being about fucking with Sebastian, and turned into me liking her eyes on me, I knew I was in trouble. Because even the slightest shift of focus meant losing what I’ve worked so hard for. I couldn’t do that to Mom.

“I don’t have any secrets,” I tell the captain, forcing away the heaviness settling into my chest.

His head cocks as he studies me like he can see the lie lingering in the air between us before glancing back out the curtain. “We all have secrets, O’Conner. And today those reporters are going to ask you a lot of questions to try unveiling at least one of yours.”

My throat bobs as I swallow the anxiety trying to rise back up it when I think of my visit with my mother.

Clarkson gets called away by one of the PR girls working for the team, patting my shoulder before he disappears with her down the hall.

Fuck .

It’s only when I’m alone that I pull my phone out and listen to the phone ring after hitting the call button.

I almost don’t think she’s going to answer when I hear, “What do you want?”

It’s not a warm greeting, not that I thought I’d get one. “I need a pep talk.”

There’s a moment of silence before, “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Olive’s voice is loud enough for one of the team managers to raise an eyebrow. I walk to the furthest corner of the room and lower my voice to try being relatively quiet. “I know I don’t deserve one—”

“Damn straight,” Olive cuts me off.

“But I have a press conference in a matter of minutes,” I wince when the guy in the room with me holds up three fingers. “Three minutes, apparently. And I’m not sure if I want to barf or piss myself.”

“You could always do both,” she offers sweetly, and I can only imagine her batting those goddamn eyelashes that are always long, dark, and flirty while she says it.

Sighing, I tug at the collar of my shirt.

“Look, I know you don’t owe me anything.

We didn’t part on good terms, and that’s on me.

I was…I am dealing with a lot of shit that I don’t want anyone getting dragged into.

If there’s only one thing I’m allowed to ask of you, it’s this.

You were always good at calming me down. ”

You were good for me.

I choose not to say that, no matter how strong those words ring true.

I can hear her breathing as she contemplates what I’m asking of her. When the man across the room holds up two fingers, she finally sighs.

“You’re Alexander O’Conner,” she reminds me in that stern voice that offers no room for argument.

“You were one of the two hundred and twenty-four people drafted out of how many ? And let’s not forget that only forty-nine percent of players drafted even see time on the ice.

You’ve already played twenty-eight games.

Twenty-nine, if you count the one you were penalized for part of the last period. ”

My chest swells hearing her admit she knows how many times I’ve put my skates to good use.

I didn’t let myself wonder if she watched my games or not because I figured she would have erased me from her life completely.

And I wouldn’t have blamed her for one damn second if she decided I wasn’t worth even the smallest memory.

“I don’t think you need your ego stroked, but those statistics mean you’re obviously doing something right,” she adds, her tone a little softer than before.

“People want to see you out there because they know you can get results. In your world, that means something. Because there’s always somebody better who can replace you in a heartbeat.

You’re not a rookie anymore. You’re in it now. You’re exactly where you want to be.”

I’m not sure why that pierces my heart like that steak knife sliced my skin when I was younger. Maybe because her words don’t just apply to sports. Sure, another player who’s faster could take my place.

But somebody could easily walk into her life and take the spot I held in her heart for a long ass time. And it shouldn’t bother me that that’s true. Because I was the one who severed our connection. I was the one who let her walk away.

It was never going to be that deep for me. Not with you.

All lies, but she didn’t need to know that.

Just like she didn’t need to know that I’d gotten into my car and followed her at a snail’s pace to make sure she got back okay the night we parted ways. Or that I looked her up online a time or twenty to see what she was up to or if she’d started seeing anybody.

Every single time I saw one of the funny, dumb memes she shared or pictures she was tagged in by friends, I’d been relieved that there wasn’t a guy in any of them.

And that made me a real dick.

My attention is drawn to the man holding up one finger and telling me to wrap it up.

As if Olive senses our time is up, she hefts a sigh. “The only thing you need to focus on is being yourself. That’s what people want to see. I have no doubt you’ll win them over. It’s a trait I’ve always hated about you.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, hearing the hurt threaded around her words. “I’m—”

“Don’t,” she whispers, stopping the apology before it passes my lips. “I don’t want to hear it. It makes it easier to hate you.”

My throat bobs.

“And Alex?”

“Yeah?”

“Go fuck yourself” is her goodbye to me before ending the call.

I can’t help but smile a little, because there was no hostility in her tone when she said it.

“O’Conner,” the man says. “You’re up.”

I tuck the phone into my back pocket and roll my shoulders.

I’m Alexander O’Conner.

Not surprisingly, that does very little for me.

But hearing Olive say my name…

That carries me through.