Page 29

Chapter 29

The Cup was in the building

Braydon

It was stupid to be this tense. Sure, three months ago I’d been playing in the AHL and now I was in the Stanley Cup Finals, but I wasn’t getting any meaningful ice time. Petey was the one with all the pressure on him, and he was relaxed and chill. I wanted to ask him how he did that, but I didn’t want to upset his mojo. And honestly, not sure I really wanted to know, considering it was Petey.

The first two games of the finals were in Minnesota. My parents were coming, and they were almost as excited as the Minnesota hockey fans. They’d be wearing Blaze colors, for me. I found it even more surreal because I’d grown up dreaming of playing for Minnesota, not against them.

I packed carefully, setting my things in my suitcase just so. Superstitious, yeah, but why risk it?

Jayna was at my desk, working on her laptop. “Okay, we’ve got a couple of towns that don’t have ice in the summer, so we’re working on tarmac. Some of the kids have rollerblades and want to practice with them. Do we split out for two groups, or do we want to see if we can locate more rollerblades to handle everyone?”

Where were my lucky socks? I had the black ones, but where were the blue? I lifted out my sweats and T-shirts and shoved a hand under my folded briefs. Not there. Closed my eyes, trying to remember. The last time I’d had them?—

“Braydon!”

I snapped my eyes open. “What?”

Her eyes widened and she leaned back. “I’ve been trying to ask you something. No need to yell at me.”

My leg jiggled. “Sorry, I need to get my bag packed and I’m missing something.”

“What are you missing?” Her voice was level and patient, like I was a kid freaking out over a spilled ice cream.

“My blue socks.”

“They have to be blue?”

I held in a sigh. “Yes, they’re my lucky socks.”

Her forehead creased. “I thought your black ones were your lucky ones.”

I shoved a hand through my hair. “Yes, they are. But we’ve got two games. I need two pairs.”

Jayna crossed to my dresser. She’d been here so often this past month that she knew where I kept everything. She pulled out the second drawer and started to sort through the socks there. It was a mess. My suitcase had to be just so, but not the rest. I couldn’t explain it, but it worked for me.

“Here they are.”

She threw them to me, but I tossed them back. “Those aren’t the ones.”

“They’re blue.”

“Yeah, but not the right blue.”

She sighed and mentally rolled her eyes—the sigh gave it away.

“They have more of a stripe pattern than those. I’m gonna check the laundry room.”

“Okay, but we have to talk about the rollerblades!”

I ran down the stairs to the back room where we had a washer and dryer. I checked the dryer—nothing but lint. The washing machine had a sock in it, but not one of my blue ones. I double-checked the dryer and then hunched down to look between them.

Yes! But also, when I finally pulled them out they still stunk, so they hadn’t been cleaned. I didn’t have time to wash them now, so I’d have to take them as they were.

Jayna turned to me when I entered the room again. She saw the blue in my hands and then put a hand up to her nose. “Those are filthy.”

Hockey players had stinky feet. She knew that, didn’t she? “Don’t your feet sweat?”

“I swear, not like that.”

Well, most of the guys had feet like mine. I rolled the socks, dirty as they were, into a ball and started to put them in their place.

“No!”

I jerked. She darted over and grabbed the socks. “You can’t put those in your bag. The whole suitcase will smell.”

I reached for them, but she ducked them behind her back.

“I need those, and I don’t have time to wash them.” I checked the time. “I have to leave in ten minutes.”

Jayna stalked over to the trash, and I leapt after her. If she threw those out?—

Instead, she pulled out a plastic bag. She shoved the socks inside and twisted it closed. She slapped the bundle into my hands. “There, lucky socks, and hopefully you won’t smell like dirty feet the whole time you’re in Minnesota.”

I reached my free arm to pull her close. “Thanks. Sorry, I’m a little freaked out.”

She pressed into my side, but away from the socks. “It’s okay, I get it. But could you please answer my questions?”

“Just let me get my suitcase zipped up.”

I put the socks in their proper place. The plastic bag wouldn’t mess with things, would it? I hoped not, because I didn’t want to smell like dirty feet, which the team would notice and tease me about. And I didn’t think Jayna would let me take the socks out of the bag. I double-checked that everything was in its proper place, then zipped it up.

“Okay, hit me.”

Jayna crossed and straddled my lap. “You’re going to be fine. You have everything in the right place, and you’re prepared. You’re nervous, but it will pass once you’re on the ice.”

“Promise?” I asked.

“Promise.” She kissed me, but I grasped her waist to bring her closer.

“Okay, quickie instead of questions for now, but on the plane you have to answer the questions about the towns that don’t have ice…”

* * *

Minnesota was determined. They fought hard, and the fans were loud and supportive. I wanted to play, of course. But seeing how they peppered Petey, I didn’t mind so much that I was stuck on the bench. Minnesota took both those games, and it was a quiet flight back to Toronto.

We fought back and won the two games in Toronto. Well, I didn’t play. But the team was reinvigorated for the return to Minnesota. Jayna flew out a day early to check out some stuff for the summer program and watched the game with my parents. Unfortunately, they got to see the Blaze lose again, and I didn’t move off the bench.

My parents flew to Toronto for the next game. Mom said it was more important that they support me than avoid Frank Devereaux, and that having Jayna around would help her through it.

* * *

The tension amped up, both for the team, and the whole city. A loss tonight meant Minnesota won everything. The Cup was in the building, and we desperately hoped we wouldn’t see it.

I met my parents for an early lunch before my pregame nap routine. Jayna joined us, and despite the fact that we were about to play game six of the finals, my parents happily discussed everything but that, preferring to talk about my project. They’d been supportive from the beginning, looking forward to having me and Jayna around for a couple of months.

“I’m kinda disappointed you don’t have horses and cattle. I mean, Montana,” Jayna teased.

My dad laughed. “With Bree working at the diner and me on the road so much, those animals would be seriously neglected. We’re not ranchers, just regular people.”

“The house isn’t very big.” My mom reached across the table to touch Jayna’s hand. “But we’re looking forward to having you and Braydon around.”

Jayna froze, and I had no idea why my mom’s touch would do that. Then I noticed she was looking at the doorway.

Frank Devereaux. My parents turned to see what we were staring at. Frank noticed us. I willed him to walk out, but instead he crossed directly to our table.

I looked at my mom, worried about how she’d respond. She reached for Dad’s hand and gripped it tightly, but sat up straight. She wasn’t shocked this time.

Frank stopped at the end of the table. “Hello, Jayna.” His gaze flickered between the three Mitchells. “Bree, Braydon and…?”

“Sam Mitchell,” Dad said.

“I don’t want to intrude. I just wanted to apologize to you, Bree, and to Braydon.” He met my mother’s gaze. “What I did was wrong. Your son is a reflection on how well you and your husband raised him.” He turned to me. “Good luck with the game, and your program for the summer. Let me know if I can do anything more. Just, we can keep this between us, right?”

I nodded. Then he turned and left. The table was silent.

“Are you okay, Mom?” She was still clinging tightly to Dad’s hand.

She nodded. “I appreciate the apology. I don’t want to spend time with him, but I wouldn’t stand in your way if you wanted to get to know him.”

I shrugged. “He’s supporting my program, so I appreciate that but…I don’t know. Not really feeling it. I’ve spent time with Faith.”

My mom blinked. “Oh, your…sister.”

I nodded. “She thinks I had a better home life, for what that’s worth. She has a daughter.”

My mom drew in a long, shuddering breath. “Your niece. Does Faith know…”

“Yeah, she does. Frank told her.” I didn’t plan to tell my mom the details of that awkward and unpleasant lunch. “I think we’re going to be friends.”

“I might need some time, Braydon, but once I’ve wrapped my mind around everything, maybe we could meet up, if she wished.”

I swallowed and blinked fast. Not used to the drama.

Jayna broke the tension. “Well, may I just say that Bree and Sam Mitchell win the award for best parents of everyone involved.”

* * *

I had a hard time getting my nap in after that. Jayna came home with me and asked if I wanted to talk. I didn’t. I just wanted to get into my hockey bubble and put all the rest of this aside.

“I get it. Hockey first.”

Was that sarcasm? She understood, right?

“I’ll see you after the game.” She kissed me, and for once I wasn’t tempted to prolong it. “You’ll be great. I’ll be with your parents, and we’ll catch you after.”

I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling. When I tried to focus on my routine, the carefully structured rituals that put me in the right mental place to play, my mind insisted on wandering. Frank. My mom. Faith. Mom meeting Faith and Hunter and Hailey. Jayna.

Thoughts of Jayna led to thinking about the camp, and what would happen next fall. Would I be on the Blaze, or the Inferno, or be traded elsewhere? If I was here, what was going to happen with Jayna? Would she get sick of me this summer? Would she decide being with a hockey player was too much?

I finally dozed off and slept through my alarm. I had to rush to the arena and barely got ready in time. My mind wasn’t focused the way it should be, so it was a relief that Petey was in net again. Some other season I’d want to be that guy, but not right now.

It was a close, difficult game. At the end of three periods, everyone—well, everyone but me—was hurting, but running on adrenaline and determination. The score was tied. Overtime, game six of the finals, make-or-break time.

In the locker room after the third period, Coach assured us we could do it. If we wanted it badly enough, it would happen. We marched out for the first overtime period with the crowd cheering us on.

It happened so fast. Two minutes in, a breakaway on Petey. He stopped the shot, but JJ, coming to get the rebound, tripped and fell into the net. On top of Petrov.

The game was delayed while the trainers went out to check on them. JJ was bleeding from a gash on his cheek. Petey stood up slowly, but one foot was off the ice. The trainers checked his knee.

Fuck . Was this like what happened to Jayna? Was Petey out? For good?

The time it took for Petey to come off the ice went in slow motion, the applause of the crowd muted in the background. Then time fast-forwarded as Coach tapped me to go in. I had just a few minutes to warm up. I ran my glove over the bars and scraped my stick over the goal line. My water bottle was on the net, but I wouldn’t risk putting anything in my stomach. My nerves were so wound up I was almost puking as it was.

We lined up for the face-off. The puck dropped, and someone took it down to the Minnesota net. I relaxed my pose but stayed prepared. I tried to focus my mind on nothing but the movement of the players in the other end, while checking to see if Coach thought I should come out of the net to get an extra skater on.

Then suddenly the crowd was roaring, and two Minnesota forwards rushed toward me. I should have known who they were and what to expect but everything was going too fast.

Cooper was skating flat-out behind them, but he wasn’t going to make it. This was all on me.

I watched them, and the guy on the right raised his stick—then, fuck it all, I dropped too soon. The puck lifted over my shoulder, my blocker not fast enough, and the red light lit up.

Time slowed again. Minnesota gathered by the net to celebrate, while I dragged myself to the bench. Cooper tapped my helmet, as did the other guys, but I knew. I’d blown it. Biggest save of my life, and I’d gone back to my worst habit.

Once they’d cleared the ice enough for the handshake line, we were able to leave the ecstatic Minnesota team to enjoy the Cup while we trudged back to the locker room. Cooper said something about it being a team loss, but I couldn’t look anyone in that room in the eye.

Coach came in. The room was already quiet, but he waited to speak.

“You’re feeling like shit right now. And you should. Losing sucks. But don’t avoid it. Don’t drown it out with alcohol. Feel that. Use it. Next year, it will fuel you. Because I never want to fucking go through that again, and you shouldn’t either.”

I would be lucky to get another chance to play at this level. I wouldn’t be here next year, or the year after. I texted my parents.

Sorry, I don’t want to see anyone right now. I’ll talk to you in the morning. Tell Jayna.

I especially didn’t want to talk to Jayna. She’d succeeded on every level, while I’d failed in my first major test. It wasn’t hard to figure out why. Too much drama, too much nonessential stuff in my life. Something had to change. Tonight, I didn’t care what Coach said. I was going to embrace alcohol and any oblivion I could find. But not at a bar—I’d learned that lesson. I was going home.

Too many hours and too many drinks later, I’d figured out what I needed to do. I couldn’t handle a relationship with all the drama and still focus the way I needed to on hockey. My parents needed my support, and I had my project. Something had to give. I sent Jayna a message with unfocused fingers.

Fix veal op mpp.