Page 19 of The Alternate Captain (Elite Hockey #3)

I open my door to find Ryan staring at me, grocery bags in hand.

“Prez? What’s going on?” I ask.

“Do you mind if I use your kitchen?” he asks, pushing past me. “Vicky’s still sick and—”

“I’ve got plans,” I say, and he stops in his tracks, looking down at his watch before catching my eye.

“Plans? What plans?”

The worst thing about being in a team is everyone knowing your plans. Because typically, we’re either in practice together, or at the gym. And since I have neither planned...

“I’m off to the store,” I say, pulling it out of my ass.

“No need, I’ve got loads of stuff here,” he says, holding a bag up.

“I need shampoo.” It’s the first thing that pops into my head.

What I’m actually doing is meeting with Justine, my therapist, but I don’t need Ryan knowing about her.

“Right—well, can I use your kitchen? I’ll clear up after myself. ”

I guess there’s no harm in him cooking here, so I agree, reaching for my keys and my phone to shove them into the pocket of my jacket.

Ryan moves into the kitchen and starts rummaging around in my drawers, and I figure I’ve got a few minutes to spare since I’ve got him alone, so I walk back to the living area and stop at the threshold of the kitchen.

“Hey, quick question. Have you heard the guys discussing supplements?” I ask.

“Supplements? Like legal ones, right? Or are we talking about something else?” He pauses on his way to the fridge.

I tell him about the voicemail Wes left me regarding Matt.

“Fuck. That guy is something else. But I haven’t heard anything. Though things like that aren’t discussed in the dressing room, out in the open.”

“Well, no. But keep an ear out, will you? Thanks, bud.”

I pat him on the shoulder before heading out, barrelling down the stairs two at a time.

Justine’s smile calms me. I don’t know how she does it, but she has some sort of magic way about presenting herself that makes me feel relaxed and at ease. But I guess that’s part of her job.

Her office is above a bakery in a former terraced house. It’s a pretty bizarre set up, but I’ve got used to it, even the narrow staircase that creaks with every single step I take.

“How have you been, Johnny?” she says, gesturing for me to take a seat opposite her.

The chairs are squishy and comfortable, and it feels like I’m sitting in an old lady’s front room. She leans back in her chair. Her body language is unguarded, as if she’s talking to an old friend. I wonder how long it took her to get into that habit .

“It’s been a while since we spoke last,” she says.

Where do I even start?

“Fine, I guess. I’ve had a lot going on. My dad is coming to visit. I saw Sarah, and I’ve completely pushed my sister’s feelings away. And there’s the stuff with Kelly—”

Justine shifts in her seat to sit up straight. I told her all about Kelly last time. And how things went from chatting via an app to being ghosted, to finding out she’s one of my teammates’ sisters. An emotional rollercoaster, to say the least.

“What’s troubling you right now?”

The thing at the forefront of my mind is my date with Kelly. And how I reacted after seeing Sarah.

As I recount the evening to Justine, she nods encouragingly as I talk. Standard, really. Part of me wishes she’d interrupt and tell me what I was supposed to do instead, but apparently, this is all about reflective listening and finding my own way. Bullshit.

“I don’t remember the last time I had a date, not one like that, anyway. It was easy, and it was fun and—it wasn’t even supposed to be a real date,” I say. I don’t dig into the details, but I tell Justine about how I bumped into her friend and agreed we’d both go out. “And Sarah was there.”

“How was it seeing Sarah?” Justine asks.

“It knocked me a little. In hindsight, I recognise that I was overwhelmed. I did try my steps to calm down and then Kelly hugged me, and it was... odd.”

“Odd, how?”

I talk Justine through the events, and she listens, nodding at intervals.

“It felt really calming. Like she was soothing me. It sounds completely stupid, right?”

“Not at all, Johnny,” Justine assures.

It’s only when she hands me the tissue box that I realise I’m crying. A whole well of emotion, buried so deep I’ve forgotten what it feels like to let go.

“But ever since, I’ve been replaying the interaction and how seeing Sarah reminded me of what a fucking failure I am.”

“What makes you believe you’re a failure, Johnny?”

“My sister fucking hates me right now—she seems to think that our parents didn’t want her.

I did my best when we were growing up. I tried to make things as good as possible for her.

Because we were pretty much left to our own devices.

I tried. And hockey. Flitting between pro-teams in North America because there was always someone better to come along and take my roster spot.

And my sex issues—I mean, what the hell is that about? ”

“Let’s consider this, Johnny. When do you feel the least like a failure?”

“I guess when I’m playing, and we win, and the guys are fucking beaming and they’re all buzzing with energy.”

“And do you think your captaincy has anything to do with that success?” she asks.

“I don’t know.” I shrug.

Justine settles her hands on her lap. “Who do they tend to look up to? Who do they unload their concerns regarding hockey onto?”

“Me, I guess.”

“I think so. From what you’ve told me before.

It sounds like they come to you because they trust you, and they see you as a leader and someone who can carry them forward.

Which is why the victories are a little sweeter, most likely.

How do you think you could use this information to focus on other aspects of your life that you find troublesome? ”

I think for a moment; consider a long line of things that I find frustrating, and what is lacking.

And it’s like a lightbulb pings on in my head—I need to be in control of the situation.

Sarah belittled me and made me feel fucking tiny and redundant.

I wonder if this is why I found it so hard to let go when it came to sex.

I always had my guard up. I wasn’t willing for her to see me at my most vulnerable because she could do even more damage then.

I replay my view to Justine, who nods thoughtfully.

Then, I remind her of a previous conversation we had. Early on in our sessions. Where I concluded I spent my childhood trying to parent Vicky. And even now, all these years later, I struggle to relinquish control, because it’s something I’m so desperate to hold on to.

“See, I think this is something you should consider,” she says. “How can you be in control of your orgasm, Johnny?”

Christ, this is embarrassing as hell.

“By doing it myself,” I say.

Justine doesn’t say anything back. She lets a smile creep over her face.

“So, you’re saying I need to be in control to finish?”

“You tell me, Johnny. Do you need to be in control? Or let someone take control, with your full permission. Because when we’ve discussed Sarah in the past, she took control, but it didn’t sound like that was your intention.”

“It wasn’t. But that doesn’t explain my partners before.”

“It does, Johnny. Consider it.”

She’s right. I mean, I wasn’t raped, but the times I had sex before were hardly on my terms. It’d be a girl who only wanted sex because of a status thing; an athlete with lots of choice but giving them an ego boost to be picked—the lucky girl for the evening.

They wanted to feel special, except so did I. And I never did.

I wish I knew the answer, because Kelly deserves this. Not a half-assed effort, or, like she’s been saying, an alternate version of myself. I need to give her me.

But the sting of potential rejection runs deep.

“Tell me about Kelly.” Justine smiles, and from the premise of talking about her, I can’t help but copy her. “She makes you smile like that a lot?”

“Like what?” I ask, shifting my eyes to Justine .

“Like you did then.”

Well, shit.

“She’s beautiful. And she’s really smart and funny. She’s someone completely different from me, but she’s nineteen and my linemate’s sister, which is... fuck.”

“Do you think he’d disapprove?”

“I know he would. He’d have my balls,” I say.

“What makes you think that? Do you know that for sure? Have you tried to date his sister before?” A twinkle in Justine’s eye tells me she’s probably trying to hold back a grin.

“No, but...”

“Remember, Johnny. The majority of scenarios we make up in our head are just that—made up in our head.”

“He mentioned something the other day, that’s all.”

I roll my eyes, but as always, Justine doesn’t react. This reflective listening stuff really pisses me off sometimes.

I’m exhausted by the time I get out of my session, and I sit in my car for an hour, reflecting on the conversation and what I can do next.

Because Justine is right. There’s something about Kelly that has me drawn to her.

Is it because she’s forbidden fruit? Or is it because she makes me feel genuinely wanted?

Like, she was into me before she knew who I was. Hell knows, but I’m invested.

I pull my phone out to check my notifications and I end up going back to my message thread with Kelly.

Kelly

I realise Ffordey was there when Darren said what he said.

I’m so sorry. Hopefully, you told him the full story, and he doesn’t get the wrong idea.

I’ll tell Darren we’ve broken up the next opportunity I get.

Johnny

It’s fine. He won’t say anything to Bettsy, anyway.

Kelly

Okay.

Johnny

Can I talk to you? Please?

Kelly

I’ve got a lot of stuff going on with our composition and schoolwork, so I’ll text you when I’m free. Thanks for respecting the fact that I need space.

But after my conversation with Justine, and my time reflecting, I know I can’t wait around for her to be ready without her knowing how I feel.

I need to take control of the situation for once.

Even if it makes me appear desperate. But I have no idea what to do.

Because I’m fucking terrible with words, and I’ll say the wrong thing.

I decide to give myself a few days to think this through. To come up with a plan. And if I can’t figure anything out, I’ll call Scottsy and ask him how he bagged Lauren.