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CHAPTER EIGHT

JACK

J on nods at me, and I stand from the bench, ready to switch out for the line change in the third period of my NHL debut.

The second my blades hit the ice, I’m traveling down the right wing to support Tyler, who’s getting into it with one of Boston’s defensemen. He’s played like shit all game, and I can feel his frustration simmering, especially since Jon started him tonight.

The puck spills just as I approach them, and I pick it up, using my momentum to carry me away and behind the net.

As another defenseman comes crashing toward me, I scan the ice for an option to pass it off since I’m absolutely hitting the boards in the next two seconds.

Matt Rice, our assistant captain, is the closest, but still too far for me to make a pass and not risk a turnover.

Fuck.

Knowing I have speed on my side, I pull the puck back between my skates and spin away from the defender right at the last second, heading back in the opposite direction. I’ve evaded him, but he’s still hot on my heels.

While I feel like I’m buying time with the puck rather than doing anything positive with it, Tyler pulls himself away from the goal and drags his defender with him. Their goalie is too busy tracking his movements rather than what I’m about to do.

It’s the cheekiest goal in NHL history when I slot the puck past the inside pipe and send us two to zero up in the last few seconds of the game.

A fucking goal, on my debut.

I barely have the time to process the thought when Sawyer comes crashing into me.

“Morgan, that was fucking wild!” he screams above the noise inside our home arena.

“Rook’s got skills and sass.” Matt holds his fist out to bump with mine.

I shrug as we turn and skate by the bench, high-fiving the team. “Saw the opportunity and took it.”

I’m heading back to center ice when Tyler rushes past me, narrowly missing a shoulder barge.

“Yeah, well, I was wide fucking open, but you’re welcome.”

Sawyer spins around to face me, one eyebrow raised in question.

I shrug again and look over at Tyler, who’s back in position with a face like we just leaked a goal and aren’t two ahead.

The remaining ten seconds plays out when the final buzzer goes, and the first game of the season ends in a W for the Blades.

Exchanging words with a couple of the Boston players on the way over to the benches, Jon stops me by the arm just as I’m about to step off the ice and head down the tunnel.

“Got a second?” he asks.

As the ice clears and the benches begin to empty, Jon turns to me. “Nice intuition out there, Morgan.”

I set my stick against the boards. I know there’s something else to this as I begin pulling off my gloves. “But? ”

He looks off toward the locker room, where all the players are disappearing. “How are things with you and Bennett?”

My first thought should definitely be about his shitty comment when I put us two up deep in the third, but instead, my mind travels to Kendra. It’s been three days since I offered her my place, but so far, I’ve heard nothing.

This is the issue with your coach knowing you so damn well—he can read you like a book.

I look at him and portray a casual stance. “I think things are better. On the ice for sure.”

He runs a hand through his dark hair. “And off it?”

“No different. We just don’t match up, and it’s as simple as that.”

As the last of the crowd filters out of the arena, Jon takes a seat on the bench. “Make an effort with him. Be the bigger man.”

Pulling off my helmet next, I nod and move to walk past him toward the locker rooms. “Sure,” I reply.

He grabs my arm again. “Why do I get the feeling you’re holding back on telling me something?”

I smirk at him, knowing this is absolutely not the right time to tell him about the offer I made Kendra. He’s my stepdad, and I trust him, but he’s also my coach, who just asked me to try and rub along with Tyler.

I tip my chin at his dark hair and blow out a mock sigh. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Coach.”

“Tell me what?” Jon’s face turns serious.

I reach out and ruffle a hand through his hair, pealing away and making for the tunnel. “You’re turning into a silver fox.”

I’m halfway to the locker room and fighting back laughter when I hear him grumble, “Cocky bastard.”

“I think you’ve just gotta give her space, man,” one of our defensemen says to Tyler as I push through the doors.

Tyler drops to the bench and starts pulling at his pads, throwing them onto the floor in the process. “I don’t like the fact that she’s ghosting me. I got, like, a one-worded answer last night when I asked if I could collect my stuff from hers.”

As I unlace my skates, I casually zone in on Tyler’s response, trying to make out their conversation above the noise. I can’t help but wonder if Kendra has told Tyler about her apartment.

“She said she’d get it back to me ASAP,” I catch Tyler say.

“That was it?” one of our defensemen replies.

“Yep. I just don’t like being ignored.” Tyler pulls his phone out of his bag, checks it for a second, and then throws it back inside. “I think she’s seeing someone else.”

The moment the words leave his mouth, his eyes flick to mine, and we hold contact for a beat before I’m looking back at my laces.

If Tyler found out about my proposal to Kendra, there’s no doubt his fist would be in my face at any second. I knew when I put it to her that I was treading on dangerous ground. But even if I wasn’t attracted to her, I couldn’t leave her with the options she had when I have two unused bedrooms and bathrooms in my place.

“For someone who just scored in his NHL debut, you’re really fucking quiet.” Sawyer breaks me from my thoughts. He’s standing directly in front of me, a towel wrapped around his waist.

I rise to my feet and pull my jersey overhead. “Just processing it all, I guess.”

“Hmm …” He scratches his bare chest in thought. “Your pensive attitude has nothing to do with the conversation going on behind us then?”

“Nope.” I speak as quietly as he did, preventing eavesdroppers.

“But you’re sweet on her, aren’t you?”

I can’t put my finger on what it is when it comes to Sawyer Bryce. Despite what the media says, I like him. Granted, he’s the captain, and you’d expect him, at thirty-four, to be using his experience to make rookies feel welcome. But he was also the only guy who made any kind of effort with me back at the training center, and somehow, I know he’s got my back.

I nod my head and figure that’s enough to answer his question.

He crosses his arms over his chest, tipping his head toward the ceiling. “Fucking knew it. It was written all over your face that night at Lloyd’s.”

I pull off my Dri-FIT shirt and grab my wash bag before facing my captain. “Nothing is going on between us. You couldn’t even classify us as friends, to be honest.”

From behind Sawyer, I watch as Tyler and a couple of other guys head for the showers.

“I can trust you, right?” I ask. “Outside of hockey?”

Just like I did before, he nods once, and I take a deep breath.

“I’ve known Kendra for as long as I have Tyler, and let’s just say, I don’t blame her for ending it and ghosting him afterward. Plus …” I sigh. Here goes fucking nothing . “She’s kind of got a lot on her plate right now.”

Sawyer quirks an inquisitive brow, but doesn’t speak.

“She’s basically homeless. A few days ago, I ran into her in a café, and we got talking. I’ll spare you the details, but she’s in a tough spot, trying to find somewhere to live since her ceiling fell in and now her building is condemned.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah, fuck indeed,” I reply.

A laugh bursts out of him, catching me by surprise. “Let me guess where this is going.” He continues to laugh. “You offered her your spare room.”

It’s the first time I’ve heard Sawyer laugh properly, and my face breaks into a smile in response as I scratch at the back of my neck.

“Yep.”

He claps a hand on my shoulder, turning to walk away. “Secret’s safe with me, Jack. I’d just hold off on telling Tyler anytime soon. ”

When my phone buzzes in my bag, I reach behind and grab it before I look back at Sawyer. “It’s an arrangement to help her out while she gets back on her feet. She has about as many friends in this city as I do, and she can’t exactly move in with her ex.”

He nods in understanding. “I get it, and it’s the gentlemanly thing to do. I’d still probably hold off for a few weeks though.” His laugh begins to fade out. “For the record and from a captain’s point of view, this is a bad idea. But we’re all pros here, and I’m not about to stand in the way of my guys’ personal lives. Just approach this with caution, all right?”

“I got it. You don’t need to worry,” I reply confidently. “She might not even accept the offer anyway.”

I’m alone for the first time when I turn my phone over in my hand, and my pulse picks up.

Kendra

Hey, sorry it took me a few days. Life has been crazy, and we only just got back from an away game in Texas. Does your offer still stand? Nice goal, BTW.

I’d ask how her game went, but since I already know they won, I leave that part out. The fact that she watched my game though … well, that sends my pulse racing a little faster.

Me

Hey, yeah, course it does. When do you want to move your stuff in? I can help if you need.

Kendra

I have a grand total of one suitcase and two duffel bags, one being Tyler’s. So, thanks, but I’m good. I was thinking tomorrow morning if that works?

Fuck, tomorrow. I mentally walk through my apartment and think of all the prep I need to do and which room would be best for her. Thank fuck Mum insisted on me making up one spare room when I moved in. To say my place is a bachelor pad would be an understatement.

Me

Was literally everything destroyed?

Kendra

Pretty much, but my apartment came furnished anyway. I just can’t reenter while there’s asbestos exposure.

I head on an away series the day after next, but I’ll be home tomorrow morning.

Okay.

And thank you for this. Seriously, you are a lifesaver. I promise it will only be a few weeks until I can get a place. In the meantime, you can put me to use to make up for the favor. I can’t cook that well, but I’m not totally useless in the domestic department. *smiley face*

I close out of the message and squeeze my eyes shut, dropping my head between my shoulders.

Kendra around my place, probably dressed in sweats and T-shirts, with her hair in one of those messy buns girls casually throw up but know exactly what they’re doing when they wear them.

Jesus.

What the fuck have you gotten yourself into, Jack?