Page 14 of The Alternate Captain (Elite Hockey #3)

“How many sticks did you break last season, Cap?” Bettsy says from the passenger seat.

He’s got his phone clutched in his hands, his thumbs hovering in midair as he waits for my answer.

“I don’t know, why?” I say, flicking my gaze sideways.

“I’m starting a pool. But I need something to go off. A starting point.”

My phone pings in my pocket, and Bettsy chuckles to himself. I suspect he’s dropped something in the team chat.

“A pool?”

“Yeah, like a wager. A bet. A dabble.”

“Fuck’s sake, Betts. You’re wasting your time,” I say.

“So how many was it? Six? Seven?”

Shit. I’d be lying if I said I actually knew, but it’s definitely over seven. “Forget it.”

“Fine. I’ll get the guys to guess this year’s number. Forget last season.”

“If you want to keep your ass away from your head, you’ll drop it,” I say, using my sternest voice .

“Okay, okay, I won’t mention it again,” he says. But he twists in his seat and stares at me. “Alright, who blunted your blades because you’re more tetchy than usual.”

I sigh heavily, not wanting to admit that I can’t even look at him properly since I’ve been having very impure thoughts about what I want to do with his sister. But since I have other shit in my head, I decide to tell him about that.

“My dad’s got this new girlfriend. He called me yesterday to tell me he’s planning a visit since she wants to meet me and Vic.” I half expect Bettsy to make a MILF joke, but he doesn’t.

“Well, I take it you’re not interested in meeting her?”

“Not particularly, but if she makes him happy, whatever. It’ll keep him out of my business.” I always know when my dad isn’t seeing anyone, because he becomes fully invested in my hockey career again. Safe to say, I prefer it when he butts the hell out.

“I’m sure she’s a lovely lady. Maybe she’s hot. Have you seen a picture?” And there it is.

“No, and nor am I going to ask for one.”

I park my car in the players’ parking lot and cut the engine. We both climb out, and I head to the trunk, pulling out our gear and handing Bettsy his bag.

It’s the season opener, and the first game of the Challenge Cup.

I’m bursting with anticipation. And since Prez’s twin brother, Liam, is here, I think we have a high chance of pushing all the way.

But I can’t get too excited about that now.

My stomach sinks when I spot my sister making her way in through the double doors at the back of the rink.

This is another problem I’m having to deal with.

“Have you two made up yet?” Bettsy says as the door closes behind her.

“Well, she’s still pissed at me, if that’s what you mean.”

“I’m still pissed at you, too, but I’ll get over it.” Bettsy pauses for a moment. “Did you honestly not know about Matt? Because if you did and you didn’t give me the heads-up—”

Everyone is pissed at me for sure. The team for thinking that I had some prior knowledge that Matt Rodgers, an ex-forward from another league team, had signed with us.

Something that I had no idea about until I saw his name plate last week.

And my sister, for thinking I had something to do with her ex-boyfriend, Liam, calling it a day once and for all—and that’s on top of her general pissed-off mood at the moment.

“I honestly found out like half an hour before you guys did. And Coach told me he would brief everyone. I’m sorry, bud. I really am.”

He blows out a breath and nods at me, but I know he’s not fully convinced.

“And Matt has said nothing to you?” I ask.

“You think we’re on speaking terms? Hell no. I still hate that fucker and the team he came from.” I’ll give him that—he’s passionate. “And before you ask, Rochelle is still out of the picture.”

Rochelle also happens to be Matt’s ex. She’s the one thing Bettsy and he have in common, well, two now, if you include the fact that they’re wearing the same team jersey this season.

We swipe our access cards on the double doors and head through to the dressing room.

We’re amongst the first to arrive, and Vicky gives us some crap about being too early for her to catch the ‘arriving in suits’ shot for social media.

But of course, Bettsy loves to appease her, so he heads back out and pretends to do his walk in again.

I refuse because I’ve got shit to do.

And it’s the right decision, because as soon as I’m left alone, Coach pulls me into his office briefly for a chat about the lines, then I’m readying up and trying to keep myself in the right headspace by consulting my notebook.

I remind myself of the reason I’m here. To lead this team into a victory.

And that’s what I do—well, it’s not all me but we come away from the ice later that evening with a W and I’m absolutely buzzing. Even my worry about the state of Liam Preston’s knee turned out to be nothing.

Once we’re done showering, I give the guys an overview on the plans for the evening.

“We’ll start at a bar before going to my place. Nothing heavy guys, because we’re on the road tomorrow.” I have this tradition of throwing a little house gathering when it comes to the season opener, and tonight is no different.

I wait for Bettsy to be ready to leave before we say our goodbyes to the guys, heading out towards the players’ parking lot.

“Have you bumped into Kelly yet?” he says, causing me to choke on the air I just inhaled.

“What?”

“Well, Ffordey mentioned you guys have to use the library more, now. So, I figured you may see her.”

“Oh, yeah. Just the once. I said ‘hi’,” I say.

And to my complete relief, Bettsy says no more about it. Once we’re on the road, he plays on his phone and casually hums along to the music from my car stereo.

But the mention of her name again has my brain ticking over. My mind has been on the game all day, but now it’s over, it’s gravitating back to that kiss and how she left things.

Once we get to the bar, I check in for our reservation and order a round of drinks as the team starts trickling in.

I stick to water, a tactical plan so I don’t feel like shit tomorrow, and once I’m sure everyone is paying me zero attention, I take my phone out and scroll back through the text messages from the last few days, wondering what the hell to do next.

Kelly

Can I ask you a question?

Johnny

Sure.

Kelly

The times we’ve kissed. How was it for you?

Johnny

I liked it.

Kelly

Right.

Johnny

You should know by now I’m terrible at articulating my feelings. But I really liked it, Kelly.

Kelly

Shit.

Johnny

What?

Kelly

Nothing.

Johnny

Come on, tell me.

Kelly

It’s fine.

I’m not oblivious to the fact that ‘fine’ means the opposite of fine, considering I grew up with Vicky. And seeing as she sent me a string of one-word answers, there’s something going on.

What’s she not telling me?

I’ve drawn a few conclusions—she likes me, or she dislikes me. If she likes me, she may be worried about her brother’s reaction, or the age gap between us. If she dislikes me, well, she’s probably wanting me to leave her the hell alone.

But I end up re-reading the message thread a few more times. And I land on option one—she likes me. But that’s my wishful thinking, because I really fucking like her.

But the other things: my age, my affiliation to her brother; they are a problem.

How can I make this right? I can’t fix my age, or that she’s related to my linemate... perhaps this is a complete waste of time, and I should forget about her.

But I can’t. The more I try to push her out of my mind, the more I’m thinking about her lips and how beautiful she is.

Because kissing her was like some weird out-of-body experience. I felt exhilarated. I didn’t even know kissing could be like that—it’s literally just touching lips with someone else. But... fuck.

I hear Bettsy laugh from a short distance away, where he’s chatting with a group of girls, and I watch him for a moment, thinking how things would be if the roles were reversed.

Would he try it on with Vicky—Liam aside of course, and would I be okay with it?

Probably not actually, but that’s because Bettsy is a fuck boy.

But Kelly being eighteen—we’re both adults here...

I roll it all over in my head for a while before acting on impulse.

I drop a new message to Kelly, keeping it casual but instantly regretting how lame I sound after I’ve hit send.

Johnny

What are you up to?

I stare at my phone for a while, and when no reply comes through, I get antsy. Is she working tonight? Is she out with her friends? Is she just hanging out at home, watching a movie or whatever? Is she on a date?

I put my phone away, pull it back out again, then shove it away, telling myself I won’t look anymore, and she’ll text back when she can. But thirty minutes later, I’m wondering if anyone would really notice if I was here or not.

I figure the best place to check first is the store, as I’d easily be able to see if she’s working or not. But when I’m a few minutes away, I wonder if I’m being a complete asshat.

However, something has me pulling into the parking lot and taking a spot that allows me a glance through the huge window that, luckily, affords a clear view of the aisles.

My heart thuds as I spot her at the checkout pouring coins into one of those counting machines.

She’s tied her hair back in a loose bun that has bits of hair escaping around her face, and she looks so damn adorable in her uniform.

A few moments later, I decide that it’ll be worse if I sit in my car and watch her, so I get out and head towards the entrance, telling myself that I’ll wait until she’s free before I try to talk to her … before trying to find out where we go from here.