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CHAPTER FIVE: HIGH SCHOOL REUNION

OWEN

ONE MONTH LATER

Strolling down the corridor toward the locker room, my heart pumps with excitement and relief. I’ve been looking forward to this day ever since I signed with the Night Hawks. It’s a chance for a fresh start with a new team in a new city. Here in Denver, I won’t have to face the same pressures that I did back home. I’ll be able to play the game I love and focus on what matters to me… and no one else.

No Gerald. No Weston name weighing me down. No forced engagements to deal with.

Still, I’m nervous. I’m escaping my suffocating future as a Weston, but I inadvertently stumbled back into my past. When I found out that Carson Monroe was on the Night Hawks, I hesitated to accept their offer for the trade. It’s not that I don’t want to see Carson… I do. We were really good friends in high school, and I’ve genuinely missed him. It’s all the baggage that comes with him that I’m nervous about. After everything that happened, and how I had to leave, a part of me didn't want to revisit the past and those memories… while another part, a much bigger part, has been pulling me back to those memories ever since I left.

Shaking my head, I push away the unwelcome thoughts dancing on the edge of my mind, trying to steal my focus. As I draw near the doors to the locker room, I hear voices inside and wince. I’d already missed morning conditioning because I had an appointment with my lawyer to make sure everything with my work visa is together. Even with dual citizenship, I have to jump through all these fucking hoops just to play the game I love. I hadn’t wanted to be late, but I underestimated how long my appointment would take. This is not the first impression I was hoping to make.

I walk inside and freeze as all eyes immediately turn to me.

Oh, shit.

Coach Sullivan turns and meets my gaze. I’ve only seen him in video calls so far as we worked through my trade details, and he’s much bigger in person. He’s a broad guy with dark eyes and stern features. Even though he’s in his sixties, he still looks like he could tear it up on the ice while hardly breaking a sweat. Definitely intimidating. He’s standing in front of the team, and I’ve clearly interrupted some talk he’s been giving.

I tense, half-expecting him to rip into me right here—my old coach was a real asshole when it came to being late—but to my surprise and relief, he nods.

“Perfect timing,” he declares, turning his gaze to the other guys gathered in front of him. “Boys, say hello to Owen Scott, your new teammate. He’s fresh from playing up in Canada, where he’s got quite the winning record under his belt. We’ve had to keep his identity a bit of a secret while we waited for him to be released from his former team, as he’s been under RFA. Now, he’s all ours, so make him feel welcome, got it?”

That sounded way more threatening than encouraging, but I appreciate Coach having my back right out of the gate.

Apparently, that’s the end of the meeting. Coach turns and walks out of the locker room. Once he’s gone, the guys disperse and finish getting their gear on to go out onto the ice.

“Owen Scott? Holy shit! Is that really you?” A familiar figure breaks away from the group and rushes toward me. It takes me a moment to recognize Carson. He’s much bigger now than he was in high school, but those bright blue eyes are hard to forget. Seeing Carson in the flesh after all these years is a shock.

“Carson!” I say, genuinely thrilled by his clear excitement. “Long time.”

We hug—and it’s a total bro hug, complete with back pounding.

When we break apart, Carson claps me on the shoulder, “Man, it’s good to see you. Come on, let me introduce you.”

He begins taking me around the room, introducing me to the other players, who all greet me with smiles and firm handshakes.

When we reach the last four players all huddled together at some of the back lockers, Carson becomes even more animated.

“Owen, meet the other starters,” he says. “Jensen, Zander, Jayce, and Wilder.”

One guy with bright green eyes, dark brown hair cropped on the sides, and a closely-trimmed beard gives me a firm but friendly handshake.

“Hey there,” he greets me with a wide smile. “Jensen Reece. Team captain. Good to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

The next man, who looks like fucking Thor, moves forward and playfully nudges Jensen out of the way. His paw of a hand engulfs mine.

“Zander Caldwell,” he says. “Right defense. So, you’re Cruz’s replacement, huh? Taking the left defense position? Glad to have you here, buddy!”

Zander seems genuinely nice, and there’s no tone of malice in his voice to indicate he’s unhappy about me coming in to take his former teammate's place. That’s a relief. You never know how a group will accept you. Not that I had anything to do with Cruz leaving the team, but change isn’t everyone’s favorite thing.

“Gotta say, I’m glad I’ll have a bear of a man like you out there with me.”

He lets out a booming laugh and smacks me on the shoulder. I nearly lose my footing but manage to stay upright and not completely humiliate myself.

The third guy looks at me without getting off the bench. He’s somehow even bigger than Zander. With his long, dark, curly hair, thick beard, brown eyes, and bulging muscles, he’s giving off serious lumberjack vibes.

“Julian Wilder,” he says in a rumbling voice. “Right Wing. See you on the ice, canuck.”

“Thanks,” I nod, gazing up at him. “Appreciate that.”

He gets up and moves past me, clapping me on the shoulder so hard it hurts, before disappearing around the corner.

The last guy is shorter—meaning he’s about 6’ feet rather than 6’5”—and leaner than the others. With his light blonde hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin, he looks like he would be more at home surfing off the California coast than playing hockey in Denver.

“Hey.” He gives me a friendly smile as he grasps my hand. “The name’s Jayce Vaughn. Left Wing. Welcome to the Night Hawks.”

“Happy to be here.” There’s something about him that puts me more at ease. I think it’s the way he holds himself—shoulders straight, chin raised, gaze shrewd. It’s exactly how I’ve been taught to present myself in public as well.

Carson directs me toward an empty locker beside his.

“Put your stuff here. Better gear up. Coach isn’t a patient guy.”

“Got it,” I reply with a grin. “Thanks.”

I get changed and get my pads on. As I’m pulling my helmet in place, Carson shakes his head with a wide smile.

“Shit, I can’t believe you’re here. Did you request this trade for her?”

I frown, confused. “For who…?

“Get out to the ice, guys!” Coach Sullivan’s voice suddenly booms through the locker room, cutting me off. “Don’t make me wait all day!”

The guys file out of the locker room before I can ask for clarification. Her? Who is he talking about? There’s no time to wonder as I rush out to the ice.

Practice is exhilarating, and being on the ice calms my nerves at meeting the team for the first time. No matter where I go or who I play with, hockey is my comfort zone. I know exactly what I’m doing with a puck and a stick, and it feels good to push my body until I’m sweating and out of breath. Afterward, as I’m making my way to the locker room with the rest of the team, I start to overthink and over analyze every move I made. Was I fast enough? Was I strong enough? For some reason, I can never carry the confidence I feel on the ice with me when I leave it, and I’m always thinking about where I messed up rather than what I did well.

After I’m washed up and leaving the locker room, Carson flags me down in the corridor.

“Yo, Owen! Come say hi to the girls!”

I round the corner and find Carson standing with two women. Recognition slams through me. Now Carson’s strange words suddenly make sense.

Carson’s sister Grace is no longer the quiet little nerd I remember. She’s blossomed into a gorgeous woman with long dark hair that’s loose and curling around her shoulders. Next to her is Skyler. She used to be a loudmouth tomboy, but she’s turned into a little hottie too. Her dirty blonde hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and she’s wearing a pair of tight jeans and a t-shirt with some sort of video game character on the front. I think maybe it’s Zelda? Wait, Zelda’s the girl, right? The picture is of the elf-dude.

Carson slips his arm around Skyler’s shoulders and drops a kiss on her upturned lips. Huh, that’s interesting. I don’t remember them liking each other that much in high school. He smiles at me, and nudges Grace.

“So you remember Skyler, right?” he says. “And my twin, Grace, is still pretty cool, too.” He nudges her humorously.

“Wow.” I smile. “How’s it going, ladies?”

Skyler’s eyes go wide and she smacks Carson’s chest.

“Holy shit, Carson!” she exclaims. “You didn’t tell me Owen Scott was the team’s new recruit. What are the fucking odds?”

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know, Star,” Carson explains. “It was all very hush-hush because of administrative politics or whatever.”

“Well, it’s good to see you again,” Skyler laughs.

“Good to see you too.” I turn to Grace, but unlike Skyler, she seems way less happy. Her mouth is a thin line. Her brows are scrunched together. My stomach immediately twists with worry. She and Stacey were such good friends… does she hate me for leaving? I can only imagine how hurt Stacey was, and Grace was there for the fallout. My heart aches thinking of Stacey, confused and heartbroken. I’d have been able to tell her what was going on if Gerald hadn’t taken my phone from me. Instead, I was forced to write her a letter, but that didn’t go anywhere either.

Where is Stacey? How is she doing now? Is she married with kids of her own? I know she’d make an incredible mother, but the thought of her married to some random asshole makes my blood boil and jealousy burn through me.

Shit, I need to pull myself together. I don’t want these guys to know just how much I’ve been pining for Stacey all these years, especially since I’m the one who left.

Clearing my throat, I put on a bright smile and say, “Hey, Grace! Great to see you. You look amazing!”

“Hey,” she says hesitantly. She seems really uncomfortable, and I’m not sure how to ease the tension hanging in the air between us.

Thankfully, Jensen suddenly appears and walks right up to Grace. He wraps his arms around her and plants a long kiss on her mouth. When he lifts his head and gets a good look at her face, he frowns.

“What’s wrong, babe?”

Eager to escape this awkward situation, I turn back to Carson and quickly say, “So you were talking about these two earlier, huh?”

Carson blinks at me, seemingly confused. “Huh?”

“Scott!”

We all jump at the sound of Coach Sullivan’s booming voice. His head is poking out of the office.

“Get down to PT!” Coach says. “You’ve got paperwork and an exam to do. Don’t waste anybody’s time!”

“Sure thing, Coach.” Turning back to the group, I shrug and say, “Guess I’ll see you all later.”

“See you, Owen!” Skyler replies.

“Later, dude,” Carson waves.

Grace just stares silently at me. I walk away way faster than I need to, and only feel relaxed once they’re far away. Thank God Coach gave me an excuse to get out of there.

I’m so distracted by my thoughts that I nearly collide with a tiny figure in a pink dress. It’s a little girl with bright blue eyes and wild red curls. She’s clutching a bright red sucker in her little hand. She looks up at me with big blue eyes, completely unfazed by almost being run over, and breaks into a huge, toothy grin. For a second, I just stare at her. Have I met this kid before? Why does she seem so familiar?

“You must be the new guy!” she exclaims, popping the sucker in and out of her mouth and bouncing on her toes as if she’s got springs in her sneakers.

I blink, caught off guard by the sheer energy radiating from her. “Uh, yeah… I’m Owen. But hey, what are you doing here? Aren’t you a bit young to wander around the stadium by yourself?”

She just grins wider. “Oh, don’t worry. I was just going to the bathroom. I get to go by myself when the stadium is empty except for the team and staff because they’re my friends. My mom works for the Night Hawks! She’s super important.”

“Oh, is that so?” I chuckle. “And what does your mom do, exactly?”

“PT,” the girl replies proudly. “My name is Melissa Ann, but everyone calls me Millie. But you can call me the best skater you’ll ever meet.”

“The very best, huh?”

She nods vigorously, pointing at me with her sucker. “Yup! I bet you couldn’t even beat me in a race! No way.”

“Is that right?” I ask, unable to hide my amusement. “Guess I’ll have to prove you wrong sometime, won’t I?”

She shrugs, looking unimpressed. “You can try, but I’m super-fast. So get ready to lose, Owen!” With that, she skips off down the hall.

I stand there, shaking my head. Something about that little girl strikes me as oddly familiar, but I can’t quite put my finger on why. Maybe she just reminds me of someone? Either way, I’m still grinning as I finally reach the PT office. I open the door and step inside?—

—and stop dead in my tracks.

Standing behind a desk, skimming through some charts, is a face that’s haunted my dreams for seven years. She looks up, freezes, and locks onto me with that emerald gaze that apparently still makes me weak in the knees.

The only girl I ever loved is standing right in front of me.

Stacey Dixon.