Page 45

CHAPTER 44

GRADY

I t was a bad idea to call three wins in a row a streak, at least according to my dad. Nothing less than six could be called that, and even then, you risked your mojo the minute you gave it a name.

“Nice game,” he said, slapping me on the back with a wink. “Feeling good?”

“Yeah,” I rotated my shoulder as if on command. It was easier to show than to tell at this point. But my shoulder had been fine since camp.

“You looked like a well-oiled machine out there,” my mom said, pulling me in and kissing me on the cheek.

“The lines are getting tighter. It’s been fun.” Michum had finally gotten comfortable after the first couple of games. Now when he got rowdy, fired up, and throwing his weight around on the ice, it made things interesting.

Lexi held back, letting our parents gush over me like usual. But when I held my arms open to her she rolled her eyes and walked into them. On her tiptoes, she whispered in my ear, “How’s that ego, Bro?”

“As healthy as that chip on your shoulder, kiddo.”

She swatted at me, but came away laughing. It wasn’t often she made the trip down to see me play in person, and I liked having her there.

“This place is supposed to be top notch,” my dad said, as the hostess brought us back to our table. I always let Dad pick the restaurants we ate after games they attended; it gave him a chance to try all the places in the city he read about in his Boston magazine.

After ordering a bottle of wine for the table, my father sat back, his chest puffed up with pride. “I have to say, Grady, you guys look great. This could be the year.”

“What happened to your superstitions?” my mom asked, her eyes wide and sparkling. She loved ribbing on him as much as he loved taking it. “You can’t talk about it or it won’t happen.”

It made me laugh, because as much as we had some traditions and myths in the locker room, talking about winning the cup was certainly not forbidden. It was all we did. It was the fuel to our fire, and we pictured ourselves holding that thing over our heads before every period.

“Okay, okay, you’re right.” He grabbed his menu, but put it down almost as fast. “I already know I want the filet.”

“Me too,” I said, adding my menu to his on the edge of the table.

“So, after the cup”—he held up his hands, cutting my mother off—“assuming you get it. What do you think? I bet the national broadcast could do with a little Holloway upgrade.”

Lexi slapped her menu on the table with a glare. “Dad, he just got captain and hasn’t even won the damn thing, and you want him to have a plan for what comes next?”

Sometimes it felt like Lexi and I were a lot closer in age, because she had a read on me better than anyone… well, anyone but Jill.

“I’m not thinking about what comes next.” I took a drink from my water glass, watching my father laugh off my sister’s recrimination and reload.

“I’m just saying. You need something to strive for. Now is the time to be making those connections. Those chairs don’t open up often, but there’s one out there for you, if you want it.”

I sighed, my stomach rolling. Ever since getting captain I’d been thinking about what would come next. But not in the same way he was. There was no sense in telling him that now though. Whatever choice I made, it wasn’t going to be because he and I had shared a dream for it. Not anymore. We’d gotten the one I’d shared with him since I was a kid.

“We’ll see. I’m not thinking about anything beyond this season. I finally got what I wanted, now I’m going to enjoy it.”

And prove I deserved it. Sure, we’d won a few games. But seasons unraveled faster than that all the time. It was my job to keep that from happening, and that’s all I wanted to focus on.

After the waiter came and took our orders, my folks both went to the restroom, leaving Lexi and I alone for a rare minute.

“So, how are you really?” she asked, jumping at the chance to get an uncensored answer out of me.

“I’m good, I swear. Things are gelling with the team. Blaise is happy.”

She scowled, looking at me like I was annoying her. “I don’t care about hockey, Grady. I mean you. And Jill?”

“Ah,” I said, shifting in my seat. “I haven’t heard from her.” But I knew her store was getting more social media buzz than just about any other business in Maine. I checked every day. I hoped it was translating into sales. I wanted her to make it almost as bad as I wanted to win the cup. Maybe more.

“Have you actually texted or called?”

“No, Lex. She’s busy doing her thing, I’m down here doing mine. It’s fine. We’re good.”

She blew out a raspberry. “You aren’t good unless you’re together. She should be here tonight.”

“Not gonna happen, kid. This isn’t what she wants.” My stomach hurt thinking about that, no matter how much time passed.

“You can’t give up, Grady. I saw the way she looked at you. She loved you too.”

My little sister wasn’t normally the overly romantic type, so when she said that, I wanted to believe.

“We’ll see, I guess.”

“ You’ll see,” she muttered, as our parents sat back down. “I already know.”

In all the madness at the start of the season I’d forgotten about the network special covering the community programs until one of the team assistants had handed me an itinerary for a trip to New York for a gala to celebrate. I was only going to be there for a few hours, and I’d have to fly out solo to meet the rest of the team in LA for a game the next day.

The marketing folks hadn’t mentioned the footage I’d sent in since that last event, so I wasn’t even sure if it was being used or not. I figured if it was, we’d have been notified, so when I walked into the hotel ballroom in midtown the last person I expected to see was Cleo Hawkins—Jill’s old boss.

“Mr. Holloway, such a pleasure to see you again.” Her warmth felt forced, and I didn’t return it.

“Nice to see you,” I said cordially, stepping around her and heading to the bar for a seltzer. I got that letting Jill go ultimately wasn’t her decision. But she should have done more to fight for her. Jill was in a much better spot now, but not thanks to Cleo.

I spent the next hour mixing with some players I rarely got to spend time with. On the ice we were rivals, but tonight we got to kick back and tell stories. A group of us were laughing about one of the best goalie-goals of all time when a glass was clinked from up on stage.

“If folks could please take their seats, we’re ready to begin.”

I suffered a familiar sucker punch to the chest when I got to my seat only to find another empty chair beside me. This time the name card had it right with “Ms. Jill Jordan” printed in a fancy calligraphy font. But as I slumped in my chair, I plucked the card from the table, tucking it into my pocket because I knew she wouldn’t be there.

A short woman with long blonde hair walked to the podium, her smile bright and her voice even, as she started. “We are so honored to have you all here tonight. On behalf of the community outreach department for the National Hockey League we could not be more proud of each of the teams represented here this evening. The impact our organization can make, on and off the ice, far exceeds what any one of us can do on our own. And when we combine our willingness to serve with engaged community partnerships throughout the country, we make the kind of difference that outlasts a single game, a single season, or a single career. The ripples of your work this summer will be felt for years to come. But don’t take my word for it, please join me in welcoming some of our community partners to share what this summer’s initiative meant to them.”

One by one leaders from various organizations came on stage to sing the praises of the player or players who’d shown up for their group. It was inspiring to see the variety of programs. Job training, school building, and even a habitat for humanity house built by a bunch of Tampa players after a hurricane. Ours wasn’t the only literary program, but as clips from the network special played on a screen behind them after each spoke, I could tell ours was the best.

Biased or not, it was.

Nearly all the teams had been mentioned and I was waiting for Cleo to come on to talk about the Holden Cove program. I must have been only half listening because I heard them introduce Holden Cove, but it wasn’t Cleo who walked out onto the stage.

It was Jill.

My heart stopped, and I shoved my chair back so loud it scratched the floor. Eyes whipped my way, but I didn’t care. Jill was there .

She walked to the podium, her face turning red as she unfolded a piece of paper in front of her.

“My name is Jill Jordan,” she said, her voice shaking and soft. She swallowed, forcing her eyes up for a brief second, before she lowered them again and went on. “I had the extreme pleasure of working alongside the greatest hockey player here tonight.”

The crowd laughed, and she laughed with them. “Call me biased, but I think you’ll see in a moment that my assertions are based on more than just my own opinion. The people of western Maine are proud, hardworking folks who put their families first and their dreams second. Many of them never leave the state, so when a celebrity comes to town, it’s kind of a big deal. Especially when that celebrity is one of their own. Grady Holloway might have shown up to read to the children of our community as a hockey player, but to them he was a hero. A hero who walked like a man, who got down on his knees to hear them better, who let sick children climb on him even with a bum shoulder.”

The crowd laughed again, and my face got hot.

“He spoke to the parents and teachers and nurses like he was one of them, even if he’d long ago set himself apart by becoming one of you. In a place where dreams feel very much out of reach, Grady gave those children, and those families, the path to find their own dreams—through books. Nothing can open a child’s mind to their own potential quite like reading. And thanks to Grady and his Boston Brawlers, over three thousand children were inspired to read this summer, and took home books to keep that fire stoked.”

Jill paused, looking out into the crowd and I almost called her name.

“You aren’t just hockey players,” she said. “To those kids and those communities, you are nothing short of magic. Thank you for showing up. Thank you for caring.”

As soon as she walked off stage I was out of my chair. I slammed through the side door, clearing the hallway that ran to the rear door in a handful of half-jogging strides. I was halfway to the backstage when her voice came from behind me.

“Grady?”

I whipped around to see her, paper still in her hand, shaking wildly.

“ Jill .”

I was on her instantly, cupping her face and kissing her. I was too rough, too demanding, but she clasped her fingers around my wrists and held on. The need to get closer to her was like a drug I couldn’t fight. When she let out the softest whimper, my cock surged in my pants and I dragged myself back for a breath.

“You . . .” I didn’t even have the words. I swept my trembling fingers through her hair, staring down into her eyes like she was the air I needed. Because she was. “You came?”

She ran her hand down my chest, toying with the lapel of my suit jacket as she swallowed. “I needed to.”

Every muscle was like a live wire, the urge to hold her and never let her go coursing through me. “Why?”

She smiled to herself before lifting her eyes to meet mine. “Because I love you too much to let what you did go unrecognized.”

I froze. “You what ?”

Tears sprang to her eyes, recognition and regret swirling in them. “I’m sorry I never told you. I should have told you. I love you, Grady.”

My heart might have actually skipped a beat, I can’t be sure. All I felt was a knot in my chest coming loose and then my arms were around her, hauling her feet off the floor as I spun her around.

“Say it again.”

She laughed, her head pitching back. When I set her back on her feet, she took my face in her hands and brought me closer. “I love you, Grady Holloway.”

My forehead landed on hers, my eyes closing. “I knew you did,” I told her, staring into her caramel brown eyes. “You know how I knew?” She shook her head, biting down on her lip to keep from crying. “Because I love you too. I have since I don’t know when. You just appeared one day, taking up all the room in my heart like you’d been there all along.”

“Grady,” she sobbed. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to make this work.”

“Hey.” I swiped at her cheeks, catching every tear that fell. “I don’t either, Jilly. But we’re going to figure it out. Okay? Cause I’m not letting you go now.”

She nodded, sucking in a choppy breath. “Okay. Don’t. Don’t let me go. I like it right here.” She wrapped her arms around my neck, burrowing into my shoulder and I felt something big and heavy click into place inside me. She was it. This was it. We were it. From now on.