Page 18

EIGHTEEN

carter

I adjust my tie and walk into the Phoenix Hotel in Oakland for the Play It Forward donor event, actively ignoring the voices in my head that keep screaming for me to find jack in the crowd and beat the fucking shit out of him for what he did to me in Minnesota.

Again.

Because tonight is not about unleashing anger or spewing hateful rhetoric.

It’s about helping kids deal with challenging circumstances, ones that I want to help change.

So screw Jack Larson and his goddamn inflated ego.

There are people who legitimately need help and that’s why I’m here.

The only reason I’m here.

Looking around, I can see that Jase Maxwell and Lucas Bentley definitely leveraged their networks to get the top names in professional basketball, hockey, and football here in one room to show support for their organization.

I exchange smiles and handshakes with some of the guys I know from the league, as well as others whose careers I’ve followed over the years.

I’m trying to distract myself from the unfortunate way my pulse rockets when someone mentions Jack’s name and asks how it is playing with him.

Jesus, they have no idea how loaded that question actually is.

The hotel corridor leading to the ballroom is draped in a soft glow, crystal chandeliers illuminating the bright and airy space.

The décor is modern and sleek, accented by gold and marble.

Pretty glitzy digs. I really hope these donors open their wallets wide tonight to help.

I was lucky enough to have everything I needed to learn the mechanics of hockey and jump on the path toward playing professionally, but I remember a few guys I came across in my early hockey days who had nothing but heart and focus.

Sadly, it wasn’t enough to break them away from their circumstances.

So much wasted talent because they just couldn’t get the opportunities that kids with money could take advantage of.

Hockey was always known as the rich man’s sport, so talent alone doesn’t get a kid very far.

Hopefully, this charity can help reverse the tides for some and get them visibility with the right audiences.

“Carter Van Kleef, it’s great to see you here.” A tall man with a wide smile and dark eyes approaches me, holding out a hand.

“Rex Ashton, Excelsior Sports Management.”

I nod.

“I’ve heard of your company. It’s nice to meet you.”

That’s it.

Play it cool. Pretend like you haven’t been stalking his agency for months since you signed with Oakland.

“Sam mentioned you’d be here tonight. I’m a big fan. I followed you from your days back at Notre Dame. You’ve had quite a career so far.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that. ”

“You really made a name for yourself playing for the Irish. Washington was lucky to get you. I’m really looking forward to watching you guys play this season. I think with you and Jack Larson joining the Raptors, the Stanley Cup is definitely in reach.” He leans forward conspiratorially.

“And I’m hoping he’s not the only one I’ll be getting endorsement deals for.”

“I’ve seen your client roster. Pretty impressive.”

“I’m always happy to take on more talent.” Rex winks and pulls a business card from the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

“If you’re looking for a change in representation, give me a call.”

I try hard not to let my jaw hit the floor.

I take the card and stick it in my pocket, swallowing the urge to let out a loud whoot.

“I’ll definitely be in touch. Really good to meet you, Rex.”

Dammit, I hate that I’m still riddled with imposter syndrome, even after all these years.

I’m here, aren’t I? I was paid to come to Oakland.

Maybe not as much as Jack, but Enver wanted me and I belong here.

I allow myself a self-satisfied smile.

Rex obviously knows it, too.

Fuck yes, I’ll get that championship ring, no matter what I have to do.

My eyes sweep over the faces around me as I walk deeper into the room.

They land squarely on Jake O’Callahan from the New York Renegades.

I bite back a smirk.

Jack is gonna love seeing him.

I ball my hands into tight fists, my heart doing a little jump in my chest.

Shit.

I was doing so well not thinking about him.

A server passes with a tray of highball glasses and I grab one, shooting it back with the hope that it’ll take the edge off the inevitable because there’s no way for me to avoid him tonight.

And truth be told, I’d welcome the chance to pummel his ass into the shiny tile floor.

Yeah, that might be the perfect antidote for the rage plaguing me.

The amber-colored liquid burns the sides of my throat and resets my mind for a fleeting second.

Until my eyes land on Jack.

And then it all comes rushing back to swallow me whole and spit me right back out.

My heart pumps hard, rattling my chest.

Fury knots in my gut as I stare at him, my spine stiffening as if I’m bracing for the impact of another blatant rejection.

The tips of my fingers turn white from clenching the glass so tightly.

How the fuck could I have been so stupid as to think there was a way to break through his self-centered, dickheaded shell?

I tried so hard to hide behind the belief that my feelings for Jack were a one and done kind of thing.

As a young and na?ve teenager who was panicked about his future, it was understandable that I’d be confused about my feelings for a guy I pretty much worshipped.

Or so I told myself when Jack stripped me of any shred of confidence I may have had after being left in the dust by him.

Did he even understand how hard it was for me to do that stuff with him?

To open up and be vulnerable in a way I never have before with anyone?

To reject every lie I’ve told myself since that first time he kissed me, to finally accept the truth about how I feel…

about who I really am and what I want?

What a fucking jerkoff.

He used my emotions against me as retaliation for something I did as a freaking kid .

I was scared and he shattered my heart years ago.

And the other night, he did the same fucking thing.

He used me to get what he wanted, and then cast me aside like I was any other faceless cock.

As usual, all the attention shines on him where he stands in a group with Sam, Jase, Lucas, and Bryce Maxwell, who’s Jase’s brother and Sam’s teammate.

I stare hard at the back of his head, imagining flame-tipped daggers stabbing into his skull.

It makes me feel a tiny bit better.

But I’d be much happier if he choked on the olive he just popped into his mouth.

I grit my teeth but my eyes refuse to stray.

God, he’s sexy as fuck in that BOSS black suit.

No tie, though. Just a starched white button down open at the collar like he’s rebelling against the establishment.

Jack Larson does what he wants and plays by his own rules.

Yep, that’s about accurate.

His dark hair hangs over his eyes in that just fucked way, his clear green eyes popping against his tan skin.

I place my glass on a passing tray and grab another, a frustrated sigh hissing from my lips.

“Carter Van Kleef,” a smooth voice says from behind me.

I turn, jerked from thoughts of Jack’s fictional demise, to find my old junior hockey coach smiling at me.

“Coach Dalton,” I say, holding out my hand.

“It’s great to see you.”

But my old junior hockey coach just slaps my hand away.

“Cut that handshake shit out and get in here.” He brings me in for a quick bro hug.

“Been a long time, huh?”

“Yeah, how’s everything?” I furrow my brow.

“I didn’t expect to see you tonight. Congratulations on landing that head coach job with the New Jersey Titans. That must be exciting. ”

He smiles and drops his eyes to his drink.

“Yeah, it’s been a ride. And for you, too, yeah? Oakland is lucky to have you. Imagine you and Larson playing for the same team, huh?”

I laugh thinly.

What a choice of words.

“Yeah, I guess we really came full circle. And now here we all are together to help underprivileged kids.”

Coach Dalton clears his throat and casts a quick look in Jack’s direction before flashing a quick grin at me.

“Yep, anything to give back, right?” A tight smile appears on his face and he brings a hand to the back of his neck.

I narrow my eyes slightly.

Is it just me or does he suddenly look…

nervous?

“So are any of the Titans planning to play in the first charity hockey game?” I ask, pulling his attention from Jack.

Maybe he thinks I missed that second glance, but I definitely caught it.

“Yeah, they’re not here tonight because we’ve got a game tomorrow but they’ll, ah, they’ll definitely make it for the exhibition.”

Coach’s eyes keep darting back to Jack, but he hasn’t noticed us yet.

He and Sam have their heads bent together, and a tiny flicker of jealousy flares deep in my chest.

It’s stupid, I know.

Sam is madly in love with Brixton.

But they still share a past. There’s an intimacy between them that?—

Goosebumps assault my skin when Jack suddenly twists around, his gaze icing over when he sees me and Coach standing together.

Out of the corner of my eye, Coach Dalton stiffens, his lips twisting as he pins Jack with a threatening glare.

Coach doesn’t look nervous anymore.

Something else infiltrates his hardened expression, and the air around us becomes heavy with foreboding to the point where I can choke on it.

And judging from the look on Jack’s face, he feels it, too.

His words from the other night bounce between my ears like pinballs.

“…I did shit I can’t undo … it was wrong, and I knew it. But I had to…I needed ? —”

I thought he was talking about the kiss.

As I look between Jack and Coach, realization bitch slaps me.

I was wrong.

And Coach Dalton seems to know exactly what I don’t.