Page 48 of He Has It All (Boston Brawlers Hockey)
“Okaaay. Didn’t see that coming.”
“New focus. No more playboy image. I’m done with it.”
“This reform of your playboy image have anything to do with—”
“No. It doesn’t.”
“How the hell do you know what I was going to say?”
“Doesn’t matter. It has to do with me. I’m . . . done with the playboy thing. Have been for months.”
“Since the playoffs? Since you lost the Stanley Cup?”
“Yes.” Maybe itisall about losing the playoffs, but it doesn’t matter. I’m restless and change needs to happen. If the change improves the team’s chances to win the Cup, then fucking great.
“Okay. I can get on board with that. The image wasn’t entirely real in the first place.”
I cough, wondering what the hell he’s talking about.
“It wasn’t?”
“No. You’ve been going through the motions for a while. Like that last Winter Gala you went to with that model. I knew something was off when you didn’t take her home with you.”
“How do you know I didn’t—?”
“Because she called me and whined. She’s a client too, you know, and I had to do major consolation duty after that one.”
“You never mentioned it.”
“No. You have a right to pick and choose who you want to sleep with. I was glad to see you getting a little more choosey, frankly.”
“Glad we’re having this little heart-to-heart then. So you think you can find me some apple pie and kittens promotional opportunities?”
He laughs. “I can do anything. Given the time. But it’ll be like turning around a big-ass ship, take some time and effort. A lot of steam with no let-up.”
“I get the message.” Checking on Chelsea again, I see she’s patting Gramps on the arm to wake him because we’re closing in on our neighborhood. “Gotta go. I have ice in the morning at the Warrior Arena downtown.” Excitement zips through me talking about it, in spite of my sore ankle. I love hockey, everything about it. The cold, the ice, the guys, the sweaty locker rooms, the fights, the crowds, the practice at the arena, and most of all the games at the Garden, competing and winning.
“Oh, that’s right. Preseason camp starts tomorrow, doesn’t it?” he says, busting my balls because he’s more on top of my schedule than I am. “I’ll check in with you later in the day.”
Chelsea pulls the car into my parents’ driveway as I end the call and I grab the bags and jump out of the car after she opens Gramps door. We both help him inside and settle him in his bedroom at the back of the house on the first floor. He yells at us to leave him alone while he changes, so we do. I watch Chelsea give him a tender kiss on his forehead and a hug, letting her genuine affection wrap around me as if she’s hugging me.
Standing in the cramped hallway outside Gramps’s closed door, we’re close enough to touch, close enough to feel, deep down to my soul. The connection runs through me and I know she feels it too.
“Let me drive you home,” I say. She’s supposed to leave Maggie’s car here and I’m only trying to help her out. Perfectly innocent. Not. Fucking not.
She hesitates until Gramps yells through his bedroom door as if he’s had his ear up to it listening, “Go with him, for christsake.”
We both crack up and go back outside to the car because I am not taking no for an answer. I’m a bastard like that most of the time. Too used to people saying yes to have patience with no. But this is Chelsea the Wilde child and I’ve never had control over her. Maybe that’s why I . . . what?Likeher?Adoreher? Fucking want her so bad I dream about her, will continue to dream about her after last night, for a very, very long time.
“I’ll be moving out this week,” she says, heading for the driver’s side until I bump her out of the way.
“I’m driving.” She gives me a look, half defiant and half tired. I put a hand to her cheek, an automatic gesture, like my hand knows the right thing to do even if I don’t, but I smile because I mean it. “Get in and relax. You’ve already done enough driving tonight.”
We get in and I pull out of the driveway. It’s a beautiful Sunday night in June, night’s falling, and it feels like we’re in a picture.
“So you’re not renewing the lease?”
“Not now that Maggs is gone.”
