Page 20

CHAPTER 20

North

T he café is small and tucked into the corner of a bustling street a few blocks from the arena. Sunlight filters through large windows, highlighting the polished wood tables and scattering golden patterns across the floor. The faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the scent of toasted bread, and the quiet hum of conversation creates a relaxed atmosphere. I eat here at least once a week, usually after a workout, such as is the case now.

Atlas and I grabbed a table near the window, the view giving us a glimpse of people bundled up against the Pittsburgh winter. We shed our coats and ignored the menus, both knowing what we want to eat. We come here enough that the waitress knew too and merely asked, “The usual?”

After a solid post-flu workout, my muscles ache in the best way, and my appetite has finally made a roaring comeback. A turkey club sandwich piled high with crisp lettuce, ripe tomato and thick bacon sits before me, accompanied by a creamy protein shake and a side of fresh fruit. Across from me, Atlas demolishes a double cheeseburger like it’s a personal vendetta.

“Thought you were on some kind of nutrition plan,” I tease, nodding at the grease dripping from his burger onto the wax paper wrapper.

He grins around a mouthful, completely unapologetic. “Cheat day. Besides, you’re one to talk.” He gestures with a fry toward my plate. “That thing’s packed with bacon. Hypocrite.”

I laugh, picking up my sandwich. “Fair enough, but bacon doesn’t count as cheating. It’s basically its own food group.”

Atlas snorts, shaking his head as he reaches for his drink. “You keep telling yourself that.”

Our waitress, Amy, stops by to check on us. She’s pretty and I usually flirt with her. “Everything okay over here? Need anything else?” she asks, her eyes lingering on me and perhaps waiting on some playful banter.

“I’m good,” I reply, stabbing a strawberry with my fork. “Thanks.”

She frowns and glances at Atlas who gives her an easy grin. “I think we’re all set.”

“All right,” she says hesitantly, tucking her pen behind her ear. “Just holler if you need anything.”

As Amy moves to the next table, Atlas glances at me, his eyes crinkled with mischief. “You just totally ruined her day.”

I roll my eyes, taking a bite of my sandwich. “You’re delusional. She’s just doing her job.”

“Yeah, but you’re not. It’s your job to flirt with her every time we come in and you didn’t, and now she’s probably having an existential crisis.”

I snort, reaching for my protein shake. “I highly doubt that.”

I catch movement out of the corner of my eye as I take a sip through the straw. A boy, maybe ten or eleven, approaches hesitantly with his dad a few feet away. The kid’s wearing a Titans hat, his cheeks flushed like he’s been working up the courage to come over.

Atlas notices too and chuckles. “Incoming.”

I wave them over as I wipe my mouth, and the boy beams, pulling his dad along.

“Hey, buddy,” I say, angling in my chair to face him. “You have the distinctive look of a hockey fan.”

The boy nods vigorously. “Yeah! I watch every Titans game with my dad. You’re North Paquette, right?”

“That’s me.”

“Cool!” His voice cracks with excitement, and I can’t help but grin. “You’re my favorite player.”

“Appreciate that,” I say, glancing at his dad, who looks just as excited. “You get to any games?”

“Partial season ticket holders,” the dad says with a proud smile. “The Titans are going to go all the way this year.”

“I definitely think we’re on that path,” I agree, not willing to say more for fear of jinxing us.

“Want a picture?” Atlas offers, wiping his hands on a napkin and gesturing to me and the boy.

“Can we?” the dad asks, pulling out his phone and handing it to Atlas.

The boy tilts his head to look at his dad. “Can Atlas get in the photo with us?”

“Ha!” Atlas exclaims with a wide smile. “I thought you’d never ask. Hold on just a second.”

He turns and grabs Amy at the next table, tapping her on the shoulder. “Do you mind snapping a photo for us?”

“Sure thing,” she chirps brightly.

We all line up, dad and the boy in the center, flanked by me and Atlas. Amy snaps photos and then orders dad out of the photo who gladly obliges. Atlas and I bend down so we’re on the same level as the kid, who beams as he vibrates with excitement.

“Keep cheering us on, all right?” I say as Amy hands the phone back to the father and moves off to another table.

“Always!” the boy exclaims. “Thanks, Mr. Paquette!”

When they’re gone, we sit back down. Atlas smirks at me across the table. “Mr. Paquette. You’re old, man.”

“Old and still faster than you on the ice,” I shoot back, reclaiming my sandwich.

“Debatable,” he says, biting into his burger again.

We fall into a comfortable silence, the sound of silverware clinking and low chatter filling the space around us. Outside, a group of kids runs by, their laughter carrying through the glass. It’s one of those rare moments where everything feels right—until Atlas decides to stir the pot.

“So, you and Farren.” He looks at me expectantly.

I glance up, already anticipating his smug expression. “What about us?”

“You tell me.”

I shrug, playing it off. “It’s good.”

“Good, huh?” He raises an eyebrow. “You’re not exactly the casual type, North. Is it just good, or is it… you know, something more? Because dating a teammate’s sister is a big deal.”

I sip my shake, considering how much to share. Atlas has become one of my closest friends since we both joined the Titans, and I know I can trust him. Still, putting this into words feels vulnerable.

“It’s more,” I admit finally, setting the glass down. “But it’s complicated.”

Atlas leans forward, his expression curious. “Why her? I mean, don’t get me wrong, Farren’s great. Smoking hot.” I glare at him, and he laughs. “But what is it about her that’s got you all twisted up? ”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “She’s different. I know that sounds cliché, but it’s true. It’s just something I feel inside.”

“That doesn’t tell me shit,” he says.

Fair point. “She’s not like anyone else I’ve ever met. She’s smart. Like, scary smart. You can see the wheels turning in her head all the time, and when she finally speaks, it’s like, damn, why didn’t I think of that? And she’s funny as hell, but not in an obvious way. It’s more… sharp, quick. She’ll say something that seems normal at first, and then a second later, it hits you, and you’re dying laughing. She keeps me on my toes.”

I cross my arms on the table and realize I’m rambling but can’t seem to care. “She’s the kind of woman who makes you work for it, you know? Like, she doesn’t hand anything over on a silver platter. You’ve got to earn it with her, every smile, every laugh, every moment she lets you in. And that… that’s addictive. She doesn’t let me get away with shit either. Calls me out when I’m wrong, doesn’t hesitate to challenge me. I like that about her. Hell, I love that about her. Makes me want to be better, not because she asks me to, but because she deserves it. She makes me think about things differently. About myself, about what I want. She just gets to me, man. In ways I didn’t even know someone could.”

“But?” Atlas prompts. “Because while that was quite the mouthful and she should practically be elevated to sainthood in your eyes, I sense a but .”

“But,” I say with a nod. “She’s holding back. Despite all that stuff I just told you that she gives me, she’s got walls up, and I don’t know why. Something happened in her past, something that makes it hard for her to trust people.”

“Let me say, I still find it absolutely weird that Rafferty is championing your cause with his little sister, but what insight does he provide?”

“He has no clue why she’s like that either.”

Atlas nods slowly, digesting. “Do you think you like her because she’s a challenge?”

The question hits like a slap, and I don’t have an immediate answer.

Atlas notices my hesitation and raises his hands. “I’m not saying that’s all it is. I’m just saying sometimes we go after things that feel unattainable because it feeds the ego. You’re also a professional athlete and we’re programmed to win. To climb mountains. To reach goals. You think that might be part of it?”

I sit back, rubbing a hand over my jaw. “Maybe it started that way,” I admit. “But it’s not about that now. I’ve seen too much of her. I’ve seen glimpses of what’s behind those walls, and I want all of it. Not just the parts she’s willing to give me.”

Atlas studies me for a long moment, then nods. “All right. So, what’s your plan? ”

I sigh, shaking my head. “I’m trying to take it slow. Not scare her off. Give her space.”

“Maybe that’s your problem,” Atlas says, stabbing his index finger at me. “You’re holding back too much. Maybe you should just put it all out there. Tell her exactly what you want and let her decide. She’s either going to bolt, or she’s not. Wouldn’t you rather find out now?”

I mull that over, the truth of it settling over me. “Yeah,” I say finally. “Maybe you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” Atlas says, grinning. “I’m always right.”

“Don’t push it,” I warn, reaching across the table to grab a fry from his plate and pop it in my mouth. One little fry won’t hurt.

Atlas sits in his chair, swirling the last of his iced tea in the glass. “Have you been in a serious relationship before? You seem like the type who likes to be part of a couple.”

“Just because I don’t try to nail everything that smells good and looks pretty the way you do doesn’t mean I want to settle down.”

Atlas cocks an eyebrow at me. “You’re not getting off that easy. You’re investing way too much time and effort into someone who’s not on the same page as you. So spill.”

I lift a shoulder. “I mean… yeah. I like the stability. I li ke having someone to rely on, and I love providing that in return.”

“You’re a real romantic,” Atlas drawls sarcastically. “Ever been in love before?”

“There was someone. A few years ago.”

Atlas straightens, his interest piqued. “And?”

“And it didn’t end well,” I say simply, but Atlas isn’t having it.

“Details, man. What happened?”

I poke at the fruit on my plate, the memory flickering to life. “She cheated. Found out she was hooking up with one of my teammates.”

Atlas’s mouth falls open, and for a second, he just stares at me. “No way. One of your teammates? That’s the ultimate no-go zone. You don’t cross that line.” He grins mischievously. “Second only to hooking up with your teammate’s little sister.”

“Yeah, well,” I say with a humorless chuckle, “he didn’t get the memo.”

“What did you do?” Atlas asks in disbelief.

“I beat the crap out of him,” I admit. “Not my proudest moment, but he had it coming.”

“Fuck,” he mutters low. “How in the hell did you play with him after that?”

I grin at my friend. “Lucky for me, the asshole wasn’t that good of a player. He got sent down to the minors not long after, and as far as I know, that’s where he still is.”

Atlas shakes his head, his expression a mix of shock and approval. “Damn. That’s rough. But I gotta say, I’m impressed it didn’t turn you into a paranoid trust-issues guy like Farren. Most people would’ve sworn off relationships after something like that.”

I shrug, picking up my fork to finish my fruit. “I don’t know. I just don’t think you can lump all people into the same category. One person screws up, yeah, it sucks. But it doesn’t mean everyone’s like that.”

Although I’m pretty sure that’s the root problem of Farren’s trust issues. She’s taking one experience and applying it to all.

Atlas studies me, then nods. “Fair enough. Still, I’d have a hard time not letting that mess with my head.”

“It did for a while,” I admit. “But you move on. You learn from it. And you don’t let someone else’s bad choices dictate how you live your life.”

Atlas rests his arms on the table. “Sounds like Farren needs that lesson. You think she’s worth breaking through those walls?”

“Yeah,” I say without hesitation, meeting his gaze. “I think she is.”

Atlas smirks, shaking his head. “You’re a better man than me, North. I’d have bailed by now.”

I laugh, my tension easing a little. “Maybe. Or maybe you just haven’t met the right challenge yet. ”

Atlas chuckles, raising his glass in a mock toast. “Here’s to that.”

We clink glasses, but as we settle into the flow of conversation, the weight of Farren’s struggles and my own resolve to be patient with her linger in the back of my mind.

Maybe Atlas is right.

Maybe I need to push her to take the leap. She’s either in or she’s out.

We talk about the games I missed while I was sick. Atlas gives me the rundown—who scored, who screwed up, and how the second line held up without me. I watched it all play out on TV, but it’s very different on the ice.

“By the way.” I set my fork down and lean forward again. “What was the reaction when Penn picked that fight?”

The easy atmosphere between us dissipates instantly, replaced by a heavy undercurrent of worry. Atlas blows out a breath, shaking his head. “Man, it was intense. Of course, Bain and King jumped in to prevent him from getting hurt, and Penn was pissed about it. Yelled at them to back off, which they weren’t going to do.”

“He’s too valuable to the team and that’s their jobs… to protect our scorers. What did he expect them to do?”

It’s a rhetorical question, because there was no other choice in that situation .

“At any rate,” Atlas continues in a low voice, “Coach busted his chops about it in the locker room, but Penn just ignored him. It felt like a powder keg ready to explode. I’m beginning to think the guy might be a little nuts.”

I take a slow sip of my shake, organizing my thoughts. I hadn’t planned on sharing this information since it really doesn’t mean anything but my worry about Penn is increasing. “Farren found some stuff about his past—nothing concrete, but it raises questions.”

Atlas’s brow furrows as he picks at a fry. “What kind of questions? Like, personal stuff?”

“Yeah,” I say, hesitating. “She came across an article about a hazing scandal on his junior team. A kid died, and some players were charged, but Penn’s name wasn’t mentioned at all.”

Atlas sits back, eyes wide. “I remember that. That was Penn’s team?”

“Yup.”

Atlas whistles in surprise. “That’s some heavy shit.”

“Yeah,” I agree, my voice low. “If he was involved—even tangentially—that kind of thing can stick with you. And if he wasn’t, just being on that team could’ve been a nightmare. I don’t want to speculate without more facts though.”

Atlas exhales, staring out the window as he processes this. “Do you think that’s what’s eating at him? ”

“I don’t know,” I admit, my shoulders slumping. “But something is. It’s like he’s carrying this weight around, and it’s getting heavier.”

“Damn,” Atlas says. “Do you think we should do something? Talk to him? Go to Coach?”

The question lingers between us, loaded with uncertainty. That seems to be the question everyone is asking. “King’s already tried talking to him, and it didn’t get anywhere. Penn just shut him down. And I get it—some things are hard to talk about, especially when you’re not ready. But…”

“But what?” Atlas prompts.

I sigh, frustration seeping into my voice. “But I also don’t want to sit back and do nothing if he’s struggling. What if this gets worse? What if he does something reckless and gets himself hurt, or worse, costs the team? It’s not just about hockey either. I’m worried about him as a person.”

Atlas nods slowly, his expression troubled. “Yeah, me too. He’s a hell of a player, but we don’t really know him, do we? Not in the way we know each other.”

“No,” I admit. “It’s clear he’s spiraling.”

Atlas picks up his burger but sets it back down without taking a bite. “Maybe we go to Coach? Or Callum?”

I hesitate, my mind racing through the possibilities. “If we go to Coach or Callum, it might feel like we’re going over his head. That could backfire. ”

Atlas taps his fingers on the table, his frustration evident. “So, what? We just wait for him to self-destruct?”

“I don’t know!” I snap, more at the situation than at him. “I don’t have a damn clue, Atlas. And it’s eating me up, because I know something’s wrong, but I don’t know how to fix it.”

Atlas falls silent, the weight of my words sinking in.

After a long pause, Atlas speaks, his voice quiet but firm. “Whatever happens, we’ve got to have his back. No matter what.”

I nod, meeting his gaze. “Always.”

Because we’re a family as much as we are a sports team.

The conversation shifts to the game as we both try to shake off the heaviness of the moment. My mind keeps drifting to Farren—and to Atlas’s words.

Maybe it’s time to stop holding back and lay it all on the line.

I’m unsure what to do about Penn, but I do have a course of action with Farren. It might just be time to act on that.