Best Of Both Worlds (Colorado Black Diamonds #4)

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

NOAH

W here is that fucking Dopp kit?

My room is an absolute mess. Clean laundry is mixed in with the dirty laundry in a pile on my bed, and now I’m trying to get everything together in my away bag so I don’t forget anything.

Fucking hell.

I really should try and get out of the contract I signed on my new place and try to find something that’s ready now. If only I wouldn’t be out the down payment.

The chirping from my phone on the bed distracts me.

A video call from my mom.

I don’t think twice before sliding my thumb across the screen and answering. Her and Dad’s faces fill the screen.

“Noah. Hi sweetheart,” Mom says, a smile always present on her face. “Are you excited for the game tonight?”

She hasn’t aged a bit. Her blonde hair is now styled in a short pixie cut, and glasses hide her blue eyes from the screen. Dad, however, has gone completely gray.

“I am. Ready to finally play together as a team, even if it’s only preseason.”

“Everything I’m hearing is that Coach Andrews is really going to turn the team around this year,” Dad tells me. “You’re lucky you get to play with him.”

“It’s not like I didn’t have a great coach in Denver, Dad,” I argue.

“Not saying you didn’t. But I’d hate for you to squander such a great opportunity. Not a lot of guys get traded and then can say they’ll help build a team from the ground up.”

The enthusiasm in my dad’s voice is obvious. I’m trying to get to that same level, but it’s still hard. Especially thinking of who I’ll be rooming with tonight.

Why does the thought of dealing with Graham Fisher turn me into a high schooler with an ax to grind?

“Is Graham looking out for you?” Mom asks. “I talked to Frankie the other day, and she hadn’t really heard anything from him.”

I groan, scrubbing a hand down my face. No use in hiding what they’ll eventually hear. My parents and their friends, Dad’s old teammates, are the biggest gossips in the world. I already talked to Nick about it, which means Angie heard, and within a few days, my parents will be hearing it through the grapevine.

Might as well rip the bandage off now.

“Not really. We kind of got into it at practice the other day.”

That has both of their faces drawing up tight in confusion. “A fight?” Dad asks. “You two?”

“Noah Jackson Fields. You shouldn’t be fighting with your teammates,” Mom chides.

I wince at her admonishment. Doesn’t matter how old you are, there’s nothing like getting told off by your mother.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen. It just did.”

“When did things go so wrong between the two of you?” Mom asks. “I always thought you were friends growing up.”

“As much as we could be when he was so much younger than me.”

“Look,” Dad interjects. “I know part of this might have to do with the fact that you’re having a hard time adjusting still since being traded.”

I try not to roll my eyes at him. Not when he’s only trying to be helpful and give advice.

“But look at this as an opportunity.”

“An opportunity?” I ask.

“Yes,” Mom agrees. “Just because you aren’t a captain anymore doesn’t mean you can’t act like one. Getting into fights with a teammate? That’s not like you. Step up and show the Knights the caliber of player you really are. Remind them why they traded for you. ”

“Okay, Mom.”

“Don’t use that exasperated tone with me, son.”

“Mom! I wasn’t.”

I totally was, but I was trying to hide it. I should know by now that I can’t get anything past my mom. Changing the phone to my other hand, I spot my Dopp kit on the other bed and grab it.

“Noah. Are you still in that hotel room?” Dad asks, eyeing the room behind me the best he can on a tiny screen over a thousand miles away.

“My condo isn’t ready yet.”

“Is that really the best you can find?” Mom asks. “Honestly. Getting into fights? Staying in a run-down hotel? Noah. Are you having a midlife crisis or something?”

“Tenley.”

“Mom.”

“What?” She moves away from the screen. “I can’t worry about my son?”

“He’s fine, Tenley.”

“Look, I have to go. We’re going to be heading out soon and I don’t want to be late. I love you guys.”

“We love you, son. Make sure you get into your place soon, okay? I can only hold Mom off for so long,” Dad tells me, a smirk on his face.

“I heard that.” Mom pops up behind him. “Play well, sweetheart. Love you.”

“Love you. Bye.”

I end the call before I can get my ass handed to me again.

Chucking everything I need into my overnight bag, I sling it over my shoulder and walk out the door. Their advice wasn’t bad.

I’m better than this. Better than stewing over what I lost and fighting it—and teammates—because it’s not what I know. What I’m used to.

Hell, if that happened during a game, we’d be the laughingstock of the league for years to come.

I need to get my head on straight. The Knights is my team.

Graham Fisher is my teammate. I can make this work.

I have to.

Because otherwise, I have no other option. When I got traded, Nashville put a no-trade clause in my contract. After this, if they don’t want me, that’s it. I’m cut.

No other team would want me.

Fake it ’til I like Graham Fisher is going to be my new motto.

I can make it work.

Right?

“That was a great goal tonight,” Graham tells me. It’s hard to miss the awkward intonation in his voice.

“Thanks.” I drop the bag onto the hotel room bed as I watch him shrug out of his suit jacket. There’s a stilted silence between the two of us. “D looked good.”

Graham nods back to me. “Thanks.”

God, is it always going to be this hard?

Be the bigger person, Noah.

Graham extended an olive branch, so there’s no use in throwing it back in his face. I need to ignore the voice in the back of my head saying that he started it all.

Bigger person.

“We played well as a team, even if we lost. Defense is looking good.”

“Yeah, thanks. We’ll have to clean some stuff up in practice.”

Awkward silence.

Fuck. This might be harder than I thought it would be.

Even though it was a short trip to St. Louis tonight, we’re flying out on a quick road trip out west before coming home.

Meaning it’s our first night together as roommates. The first of many. We need something to break the ice.

Glancing around the hotel room—one that doesn’t have water spots and has bedspreads that actually might keep you warm—I spot the minibar.

“Do you want something to drink?”

Graham blows out a breath. “Oh, fuck yes.”

Snorting a laugh, I head to the minibar and grab a handful of tiny bottles. Even if it won’t get us drunk, it’ll at least help take the edge off.

“I’ll take the bourbon if there’s one,” Graham tells me.

Dropping half a dozen or so bottles on the bed, I grab two of the same and hand one to him. “At least you have good taste in booze.”

“Cheers to that.”

We clink bottles, unscrew the caps, and knock them back.

“Damn. That feels good.”

Graham wipes his lips before holding out his hand for another.

“Easy.” I hand him one of the golden bottles of rum. “This is all we’ve got.”

“You know,” Graham starts, “we could always go to the bar and get an actual drink.”

I flop back onto the bed, kicking my shoes off. “Nah. I’m good hanging out up here.”

Graham takes a spot on his bed, mirroring my position. “I am too. There’s something about not having to be on with all the guys.”

“Really? I thought you’d be all about that.”

Graham shifts, sitting at the edge of the bed, propped back on his elbows. “Why’s that?”

“Because it’s the start of your third season. You don’t want to be out sowing your wild oats?”

Bursting out in laughter, Graham sips on his drink. “What are you, eighty? You sound like Gigi.”

“I swear, your grandma can get away with anything.” I laugh.

“Actually, I don’t think Gigi would say that. She’d just say why aren’t you out picking people up at the clubs? She’d be disappointed the two of us are up here and not going out.”

“I’m well past that point in my career. Why don’t you want to go out with the guys?”

Graham grabs another bottle and takes a small sip. “I don’t know. It’s never been my thing. I always wanted to focus on hockey.”

“Guess that’s one thing we have in common.”

“My dad always said it’s the most important thing. Don’t get caught up in the lifestyle and forget why you’re there.”

I laugh, sipping on a bottle of vodka. It’s cheap, burning as it goes down. But it helps to loosen my tongue. “Maybe we should remind Bode of that.”

“By the time he’s done with his career, he’ll have slept with every woman in Nashville.”

I point at Graham. “And that is why I don’t feel the need to go out with the guys.”

“Although it is fun to watch him get shut down every now and again.”

“Well, you wouldn’t see me getting shut down.”

Graham rolls his eyes. “Why, because no one can say no to you?”

I shake my head and ignore his reaction. Apparently all we need is alcohol for things to soften between us. “Because I doubt any of the guys would go to the gay bars with me.”

“Marcus and Jasper would. Dax tends to be the only person to keep Bode in line, so he’d likely go with him.”

“Good to know.”

See? I can be the bigger person and learn things from Graham that I might not have gleaned otherwise about my teammates.

The silence comes back, but this time, it’s not nearly as heavy as before. It has some of the tension loosening in my chest.

Maybe this won’t be so bad. Playing hockey is hard. Having to make nice with your enemy to keep playing?

I can do this.

“Want to watch the Vancouver game?” Graham asks.

“Sure.”

He flips the TV on and finds the game.

“Figure we can learn about our opponent and get a leg up on them.”

“Could even help the guys out in practice. Get back in their good graces.”

Graham grabs another tiny bottle and swallows the amber liquid down in one go. “I’ll drink to that.”

By the time the game is over, even though we haven’t talked much, the tension has eased. Who knew all you needed was a few tiny bottles of hotel liquor and a hockey game to break the ice?