Page 20 of Slap Shot (Blades Hockey #5)

Weston

The picture of me kissing Daisyˇs cheek goes viral.

Within twenty-four hours, it has more comments than the photo we shared from our unofficial wedding reception at The Box. Within forty-eight, itˇs trending on more than one social media platform. And within seventy-two hours, well, the trolls start to creep in through the woodwork, but I barely notice their existenceespecially now that I donˇt need to open Instagram to look at the picture.

Yesterday, I set it as the wallpaper on my phone.

As the teamˇs private jet inches closer to the clouds, I find myself staring down at our happy faces squeezed into the narrow frame. Thanks to the way I angled the phone, you can see that the kitchen island is littered with all of Daisyˇs favorite snacksbut the focus remains on her, on me, on the way her eyes are squeezed shut in laughter from my attempt to feed her an M&M cookie while pressing a soft, gentle kiss to her cheek. Itˇs silly and a little awkwardnot to mention the fact that the cameraˇs flash isnˇt doing us any favorsbut Daisy said to trust her, and fuck it if she doesnˇt have the Midas touch.

It worked all right. Maybe too well.

At last count, weˇve received over a thousand new interview requests. The number, frankly, is staggering. Even Gwen is having trouble keeping up, and sheˇs started forwarding only the ones that she thinks are viable contenders. After our run in with Murphy at Athletica , though, Iˇm wary of anyone looking to do a Tell All on me and Daisy.

With one last look at her smiling face, I shove my phone into my pocket so I can ignore the rest of my notifications until we land in Toronto.

Most of the guys are taking the opportunity to get some more shut eye but I can hear Beaumont and the rookie fighting over an alleged ¨illegal〃 Battleship move a few rows back. Leaning into the aisle, I cast my gaze past where Hunt is sprawled out toward the middle of the plane.

¨Just get it done,〃 I mutter under my breath.

I wait for Matt, our resident flight attendant and sarcasm king, to give us the thumbs up that we can move about the cabin, and then Iˇm pushing to my feet and angling my too-big frame down the narrow aisle. If I wait any longer, thereˇs a pretty good chance that Iˇll talk myself out of it. I already know that this isnˇt going to be a fun conversation.

I ruffle Carterˇs hair as I pass him, nod to our equipment manager, and then pause beside the man camped out in the very first row. ¨Hey, Coach, you got a sec?〃

Sam Hall looks like he hasnˇt slept in weeks.

¨Sure.〃 Plucking his reading glasses from his face, he tucks them into his shirt pocket. ¨Yeah, of course, kid. Here, just let me〃 With a tired groan, he hoists himself up, shuffles over, and drops into the window seat, leaving the middle one empty.

That works for me.

Lowering down into Coachˇs vacated seat, Iˇm suddenly grateful that the Blades GM always opts for us to fly privatethe extra leg room makes it possible for me to angle myself so Iˇm not spilling out into the aisle or, worse, eating my kneecaps for breakfast.

Coachˇs blue eyes are weary when I meet them. ¨Whatˇs up, kid? Your hip feeling all right?〃

¨Yeah, the hip is fine.〃 Just gotta rip it off like a Band-Aid, thatˇs all . After taking a deep breath, I bite the proverbial bullet: ¨Itˇs about Daisy.〃

In close quarters like these, thereˇs nowhere to hide, which means that Iˇm privy to Coach looking vaguely nauseous. Shit. That does not bode well. I bite the inside of my cheek, fully intending to wait him out, but as the seconds tick by, I find it increasingly harder to sit still or keep quiet.

Fuck it.

¨We both know that Iˇm decimating every professional boundary there is right now,〃 I utter in a low, careful voice to avoid being overheard by other coaching staff seated directly behind us. ¨And trust me, Iˇm fully away that itˇs in my best interest to keep my mouth shut. I love playing for the Blades. Hell, I love playing for you, too, Coach, but you gotta knowI mean, really, you have to know how much your silence is killing her, donˇt you?〃

Iˇm not sure what to expect, honestly. Maybe an apology for dropping the ball where his daughter is concerned, or at least some sort of visual cue that his hands are tied and heˇs doing all he can with the limited resources at his disposal. But aside from scrubbing his hand across his moutha nervous habit that he picked up years agohe doesnˇt give me much to work with.

Thatˇs fine, though. I came prepared with a Plan B.

¨Is something else going on?〃 Dropping my shoulders, I speak urgently into the empty space between us. ¨I get that thereˇs probably a lot that you canˇt tell me, but if thereˇs anything we can do to make sure that Daisy is〃

¨Do you know the first thought that I had when I met you?〃 The abrupt subject change catches me off guard, but the question must be largely rhetorical because Coach doesnˇt wait for me to fumble my way around to an answer. ¨I thought you were too nice to be a D-man.〃

Iˇm . . . not sure thatˇs a complimentto anyone, actually.

Coach pins me with an inscrutable stare. ¨You can be a real bastard on the ice when you want to be, Cain, but you still have the softest fucking heart out of everyone I knowincluding my daughter.〃 He tips his head back against the closed window shade. ¨One of these days, youˇre going to wish that youˇd hardened it some.〃

The comment sounds like an echo chamber of every insult my dad has ever flung my way, and I feel my bones stiffen with disgust. ¨Thatˇs all you have to say? Really?〃

¨No, itˇs not.〃

Frustrated, I drag my fingers through my hair. ¨Iˇm done with the mind games. Just say what you mean or〃

¨Youˇre going to wish that youˇd hardened your heart,〃 Coach says plainly, ¨but I hope you never do, kid. I hope you stay exactly how you are, how youˇve always beena good soul with a heart of gold.〃

Just like that, the fight seeps right out of me.

When I rake my fingers through my hair this time, I pull on the ends, wishing that the pressure might relieve the ache in my heart. ¨I donˇt understand what the fuck is going on.〃

¨My little girl is the strongest person I know.〃 Cutting eye contact, Coach reaches for his laptop from the seat back pocket. ¨And I need her to be strong for just a little longer. Can you tell her that?〃

Emotion lodges in my throat like a boulder. ¨She thinks that youˇve abandoned her.〃

¨Sheˇs not that lucky, unfortunately.〃

¨Coach〃

¨Youˇre good for each other, you and Daisy. I always thought so.〃 Blue eyes swing my way. ¨Now if you donˇt mind, kid, Iˇve got to get some work done.〃

¨Yeah, sure. No problem.〃

But as I make my way back to my seat, I canˇt help but feel more confused than ever.

We lose to Toronto that night.

And then we lose to Calgary, Ottawa, and St. Louis in one fell swoop, too.