Chapter 2
“That’s right, motherfucker! Try that shit again, and I’ll pound your ugly face into the boards p>
I laugh at Mac, my enforcer, and shake my head at him. Mac’s an animal, which is good, given that it’s his whole job to either pick fights or end them.
He’s damn good at his job.
“Come on, Cap, we got this,” Mac says to me as we skate to the bench. “One more period, and we can win this. We’re only down by two p>
We’re not gonna win this.
It’s the last game for us in this season. I know it. Coach knows it. Fuck, even the fans know it.
We’ve won the last two Stanley Cups in a row, but this year has been a rebuilding year since we lost some players after the last season and recruited some rookies, and frankly, I’m surprised we made it this far into the playoffs.
It was a mediocre season.
And that’s okay. Everyone has them. I have no complaints.
But this is the last game for the Seattle Blizzard this year.
“James!” Coach flags me down, and I walk over to him.
“One more period,” he says, echoing Mac’s words. “Tie us up, at least p>
“I’ll do my best p>
“You are the best,” he reminds me and slaps me on the back. “Let’s do this p>
I was the best.
For fifteen years, I’ve been known as the phenom. The best of the best. The GOAT. Better than Gretzky, having smashed his record for scoring in one season, and total scores in a career, and I’ve played for five years less than that legend.
He’s also a friend and mentor of mine.
But am I still the best? Fuck no.
I’m thirty-five.
I’ve been beating my body up my whole goddamn life.
I’m tired.
But for the next twenty minutes on the ice, I’ll fake it till I make it. No cringing when my knees feel like they’re exploding. There is no pain. There is no messing up.
But shit, it’s so much harder now than it was ten years ago. Even five years ago.
I do manage to score twice, much to the delight of the fans and my teammates, but so does the opposing team, and when it’s all said and done, we lose, 4–2.
“James!” Dozens of reporters shout my name as I make my way to the locker room, and I stop to give interviews.
“What happened out there, Cap p>
Some of them call me Cap because I’ve been the captain of the team for ten years. I was recruited by Seattle my rookie year, and I’ve been lucky enough to stay here my whole career.
Aside from Montana, Seattle is my home.
“Hey, Mike.” I swipe my forearm over my sweaty forehead and tip my head down so I can hear the shorter man ask me questions for the camera. The hallway leading to the locker room is loud as hell.
“What happened out there, Cap? Do you think there was anything you could have done to change how this one ended p>
I want to roll my eyes, but I simply shake my head. “You know, our guys really showed up tonight. Spencer had some amazing saves in the goalie box. I don’t think we have anything to be ashamed of, and a great foundation for next year p>
“So you think you’ll still be in Seattle next year, with you being a free agent after this game?” Mike asks, his eyes shrewd.
Fuck you, Mike.
“Only God and my agent know that for sure.” I smile at the camera, wink for Willow the way I always have, and turn to leave.
No more interviews tonight.
The locker room is somber, but not as sad as it gets if we lose during the Cup. That sucks ass. Tonight, we’re disappointed, even though we saw it coming.
But I’m the captain, so it’s my job to say a few words to lift their spirits.
“Listen up,” I begin, getting everyone’s attention. “I’m proud of every single one of you. You all worked hard this season. We knew that there would be a learning curve this year, and there’s nothing wrong with that. You played your asses off out there tonight p>
“Not hard enough,” Mac mutters, and I reach out to pat him on the shoulder.
“You spent more time in the penalty box than on the ice,” I remind him with a grin. “No pouting tonight. We made it into the second round of the playoffs, and that’s nothing to be ashamed of. Now, we rest for a bit before we get back at it p>
For me, that downtime will take place in Montana, with my dad and the animals, breathing in fresh air and listening to nothing but quiet. I need that.
But first, we’re going on a trip as a team. The reservations, the plane, everything has been on standby to whisk us away whenever we’re finished with the season. Whether that was tonight or after the Stanley Cup, we’re going somewhere as a team.
Somewhere fucking warm.
With sand, sun, and hopefully plenty of scantily clad women. I haven’t gotten laid in far too fucking long.
“But first, Bora-Bora!” Spencer calls out, and I grin at him.
“Damn right. We leave first thing, so don’t get so drunk tonight that you pass out and miss the flight. We won’t wait for your stupid ass p>
Against a backdrop of snickers and smiles, I walk over to my locker and start to strip down to hit the shower. Now that the adrenaline from the game is over, my knees ache. My back is stiff.
I feel eighty.
As I joke with the guys—always keeping my hockey-star mask on—I get showered and then pull on my suit and tie.
The guys give me shit for always dressing up for game day, but it’s habit. It’s my image. Ray—or Dad, as I’ve called him since I was sixteen—always says that you need to show the world who you are.
I’m not a slob. I’m a professional, elite athlete, and I fucking look like it.
Reaching for my phone, I frown when the screen lights up and I see that I’ve missed ten calls and a shit ton of texts during the game.
Fuck.
Still frowning, I see the calls were from Gideon. Most of the texts, too, except for a couple from Willow. They started coming in when we were still warming up for the game, almost four hours ago.
Willow: I know you’re playing but you need to call me ASAP.
Willow: Seriously, I’m so sorry, but we need you.
Gideon: I’m getting on a flight home now. Call me, bro.
My stomach is in knots, dread sitting heavy on my chest, as I immediately dial Gideon’s number, but it goes straight to voicemail.
He’s in the air. The flight from Washington, DC, to Montana is a long one, but he should be almost there by now.
I dial Willow’s number, and she picks up right away.
“Ry!” I hear the tears in her voice, and I have to sit down. My chest aches. My breaths are already coming fast. Jesus, what is going on at home? “Oh, Ry, I’m so sorry. I know you’re playing p>
“I’m never too busy for you, and you know it, Wills. What’s wrong? Breathe for me, and tell me what’s going on p>
She pauses, and I hear her take a long breath.
“It’s Ray.” No. Goddamn it. “It’s not good, Ryker p>
“Is he still alive p>
“For now, but you need to get here as soon as you can p>
“I’m on my way. I’ll be there in three hours p>
“Come straight to the hospital, okay? Gideon will be here by then, and I’ll tell you everything when you get here p>
“Three hours. Deep breaths, honey. We’re coming. We’ll take care of everything p>
“Oh, God.” She lets out a choked sob, and I want nothing more than to be able to teleport myself there, to be there for them.
“I’ll see you soon p>
“Okay. Thanks, Ry p>
She hangs up, and I immediately make some calls, arranging for the team private jet to take me home, and then I turn to the guys.
They’re already watching me with somber faces.
“How much did you hear p>
“Enough,” Mac says. “Go home, Cap. We can postpone Bora-Bora p>
“No, you guys go and have fun. You’ve earned it p>
“Keep us posted, yeah?” Spencer says, and I nod as I swallow hard.
Fuck. I need to get home.
“Thanks, guys p>
I hate hospitals. I’ve spent my fair share in them after particularly rough injuries on the ice, but mostly I despise them because it was a place like this where I said goodbye to my mom after the last asshole she was with beat her so severely, it killed her.
I always think of her when I have to be in a hospital. I know she would hate that, but I can’t help it.
I held her hand in places like this more times than I could count, and one day, she didn’t get to go home with me.
“Ry p>
I look up to find Willow rushing down the hallway, her pretty face ravaged from tears, and then she’s hugging me, holding on tight as I stare over her shoulder at Gideon, who walks toward us, his face grim. We’re both in suits. We look like we’re late for a wedding.
“Am I too late?” God, is that my voice?
“No,” Gideon says, and when Willow eases back, he pulls me in for a hug. “But you need to get in there p>
“You two go together,” Willow says.
I slip my hand in hers and link our fingers, our palms pressed together. “You come with us p>
She nods and holds on to me tight. Willow has been my best friend since I was fifteen. Since she managed to make Gideon and me brothers rather than enemies. We’re the Three Amigos.
These two are my best friends. The people I can count on, ride or die, no matter what.
Having Gideon next to me and Willow’s hand in mine is the only thing keeping me from losing my shit right now.
We walk into a dim room, where Ray, the only father I’ve ever known, is lying on the bed. He’s hooked up to monitors, and he’s sleeping. He’s lost all his color. I’ve never seen him so gray.
“What happened?” I ask, my voice a ragged whisper.
Christ. That’s my dad.
“Stroke,” Gideon says. “We’ll go over it all later. It doesn’t matter now p>
No, I suppose it doesn’t.
I cross to him and sit in the chair beside the bed, then take his hand in mine and bring the back of it to my lips. Since that day that we stepped foot on the Triple Creek Ranch all those years ago, this man has been bigger than life itself. Strong. Tall. Proud.
But then we lost Mama two years ago, and it was as though Dad died with her.
I hardly recognize the man lying in this bed.
“Hey, Dad,” I say, squeezing his hand. To my surprise, his eyes flutter open, and he looks at me, and it’s a hit to the solar plexus. I love him so much. “If you wanted to get me to come home, you didn’t have to be so dramatic about it p>
Humor flickers in his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything.
“He can’t talk,” Willow whispers.
“I’m here, too, Dad,” Gideon says, joining me, and Dad’s gaze shifts to my brother.
None of us are related by blood, but we’re linked by something far more important. Years of respect and laughter. Hard work. And the devotion we all had for the love of his life.
Dad’s eyes fill with tears. I can tell that he wants to say something, and he’s frustrated, but he’s also so weak and tired.
“We know,” I assure him, and kiss the back of his hand again. Gideon lays his hand on Dad’s shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze.
“We love you, too, Dad,” Gideon says.
“Thank you.” I swallow the tears down. “Thank you for everything you did for us. For giving us Mom, and the ranch, and Willow. Hell, for giving us a life p>
A tear falls from Dad’s eye, and Gideon brushes it away.
“Hey,” Gideon says, his gruff voice soft. “You go to Mom. We know you’ve been missing her like crazy p>
“Just tell her we love her,” I add, my own tears falling from my eyes.
“I love you too,” Willow adds, leaning over so he can see her. “So, so much. Please kiss Aunt Deb for me, Uncle Ray p>
Christ.
“We’ve got this,” Gideon says.
Dad looks at each of us once more, and then he closes his eyes and sighs, and the machine makes a static, beeping noise, signaling that there is no heartbeat.
Dad’s gone.