Crew (Hockey Royalty #3)

9. Crew

Chapter 9

Crew

“W e won!” Duke Hendrix reminds me as he gives my shoulder a shove with his as we make our way back to the locker room.

“I know. It’s great!”

“Then maybe tell your face,” Duke replies with a cheeky grin. “Because it looks like someone just took back your Stanley Cup ring.”

“Sorry.” I decide to lie. “My wrist is tweaking a little bit. And it was just pre-season. I don’t wanna overreact.”

I had a small fracture during the playoffs last year which, thankfully, is all healed up, but blaming my growly face on it is easier than explaining to my teammate that I accidentally took the virginity of my best friend’s cousin. And that it’s got me all vexed that she doesn’t think it’s a big deal and that she ran from me like I was contagious or something. And basically said it was something she would like to forget.

“You should go see the doc about that before it gets worse,” Duke advises, looking serious now. “We need you full throttle for the season.”

I nod and walk over to my locker area, then start peeling out of my gear. Because it's pre-season there isn't much media coverage and the reporters who are here are talking to guys in the tunnel, not the locker room. I opted out of interviews. Yeah, they usually want to hear from the team leaders, which I've been even while not officially the co-captain yet. But Nash can handle that. He loves it and I never have. This 'injury' is also a good excuse for that because I know Coach Braddock will give me shit for not fielding media if I don't have an excuse.

I don’t reach for my towel like the other guys. I tug on my track pants and tank from before the game, shove my feet into my blue rubber slides, an arena must, and make my way into the hall. I go straight to the VIP lounge. It's still filled with friends and family and smells like sugar from the candy station and leather from the fancy furniture. I immediately spot Tenley by the long mahogany bar. She's talking with the redhead from earlier. A cousin, but I don't know which one. She's got a dimple in her chin and the same willowy build as Tenley.

“Hey,” I say as I stand about a foot away. I haven’t showered yet and she doesn’t need to smell that. “I was wondering if you’d…”

I can’t ask if she’s seen Olivia. It will set off alarm bells. Nobody thinks I even really know her. Tenley and the redhead are staring at me blankly, waiting for my mouth to keep saying words. “Uhh… I was…”

I did not think this through.

“You were wondering if I would… what?” Tenley asks as she lifts a glass of wine to her lips and the redhead reaches for the other one on the bar.

“If you would intro… introduce me,” I croak out like a very petrified teenager at his first high school dance. Not at all the vibe I want to give off, ever, let alone with Olivia’s relatives. “I haven’t… met everyone in Tate’s family yet.”

My eyes move from Tenley to the redhead and back to Tenley who is definitely taking this the wrong way judging by the smile on her face. "Crew Westwood, this is Shelby Garrison. She's my Uncle Cole and Aunt Leah's kid."

“Hi.” I give her a wave and then change my mind and extend my hand like a gentleman because I’m not a complete asshole. At least not always. Her grip is firm and her smile is friendly. She’s a very pretty woman but all I can think about is Olivia. “Hey. Tate’s my best friend.”

Am I suddenly a twelve-year-old? Is this a Freaky Friday or a time-travel situation? Why am I acting like a prepubescent boy with zero game? Because you aren't trying to pick up this woman, butt head, I scold myself.

“Hi.”

And then it hits me. I try not to look horrified as I ask, “Is your brother Grady Garrison?”

“Yep!” She smiles proudly.

Oh fuck. Well, this just got even more awkward. I need to get the hell out of here. "Hell of a goalie. Anyway, nice meeting you. Have you seen Mallory? Tate was looking for her."

Another lie. One that I could get caught in. Why am I like this?

"I thought he was doing press." Tenley scrunches up her perfect little nose. "Anyway, Mallory is walking Liv and Dyllie Bear to the car. She'll be back in a minute."

“And hopefully she can hang for a bit,” Shelby adds. “Parents’ night out!”

“Liv is taking Dylan home. He’s exhausted and getting over a cold and Liv never parties anyway so this way Mal and Tater don’t have to rush home,” Tenley explains.

“Home to her place or Tate’s place?”

“Tate’s,” Tenley replies and blinks. “That’s your old house, right? I’ve wanted to ask you why you would give that place up. It’s amazing.”

“Too big for a bachelor,” I reply quickly. “I should go shower. Nice meeting you Shelby.”

“You too, Crew.”

I dodge people as quickly as possible and make my way back to the locker room without stopping for anyone else. Not even my brother who is at the end of the hall surrounded by reporters. He glares at me for a millisecond, something only a twin would notice. I ignore it, rush through my shower, and am out the door and in my car heading to Venice before Nash has even taken off his pads I’d bet.

I'm hellbent on having another conversation with Olivia but to what end? I mean she's right. She was a one-night stand. That night has come and gone. The deal is done. But the thing is, I wasn't clear on the details of that night and I don't think that's fair.

The streets are clogged like they always are in Los Angeles, but because it's a Tuesday it's not unbearable. I'm also grateful I can avoid the freeways and take regular streets from the arena downtown to the beach community where my former home, and my current home, are located. The only thing I really detest about California is the freeways.

I expect the call from Nash that lights up the screen in the dash of my Tesla. And I ignore it. I can drive to Tate’s house on autopilot because I lived there for years. I never wanted to live there, though. My ex Anne-Marie picked it out one day, from a real estate site, and insisted we go to the open house. I didn’t even know we were looking to buy. I mean… I wasn’t.

I’m slightly superstitious and I was in the first couple years of my first NHL contract. I didn't want to jinx anything by getting too comfortable. Tons of guys get dropped down to the farm team or traded away before their first contract ends. Committing to a house seemed like jinxing myself. But yet somehow I was signing an offer on the Tuscan-style McMansion on the Venice Canals by the end of the day. I would have done anything to make Anne-Marie happy. I loved her that much. But it was a trick because nothing I did could or would ever make her happy.

I push Anne-Marie out of my head as I turn down the narrow street I know so well and slide the car into the driveway behind Mallory’s car. I get out of mine and walk swiftly up the path that leads to the front door, located midway down the side of the house.

I'm glad this place is working out for Tate. He and Mallory have decided to buy it off me and we're just waiting for the lawyers to finalize everything. However, I'm not buying his townhouse that I've been living in since we decided to swap homes at the end of last season. In fact, I'm in the process of trying to find a new place to buy. I honestly can't decide where or what I want.

I ring the bell, a sound I always hated, and then knock on the door for good measure. Anne-Marie bought some custom bell that sounded like seagulls however it was a stupid idea because there are seagulls everywhere in Venice California. It's a beach community. I could never tell the doorbell from the birds outside, hence the additional knock.

I'm left there waiting so long, with nothing but the sound of the canal lapping gently against the cement borders of the walking paths that skirt the house, that I contemplate knocking again. Harder. But the outside light comes on suddenly and through the still-closed door I hear "Hello?"

It's Olivia, but her voice is abnormally low like she's trying to sound like a man. I smirk. "Hey. No human trafficker or serial killer here. Just the only guy you've seen naked."

The lock turns, the door opens, and she's standing there, still in the same clothes she wore to the game. Her gaze is hard and she shushes me. "Never say that out loud again. Also, you are not the only guy I've seen naked. Get over yourself."

Okay so me and my stupid mouth just made a bad situation worse. Nifty. What is it about her that brings out the stupid in me?

I swallow down the urge to turn and run and just leave her alone forever. “Can I come in?”

She lets go of the open door and steps aside, her non-verbal yes. I step over the threshold and am shocked at how I barely recognize the place. It’s not like Tate and Mallory have changed anything structurally on my old house. All the walls, windows, and doors are still in the same place. Hell, some of the furniture is still the same, but it feels different. They painted the living room a soft, smoky blue and the couch is in a different place, swung around to have views of the fenced yard and the wide-screen TV. And it smells like cookies and ocean air. But it's not those small changes that make it foreign either. It's hard to explain but it doesn't just look lived in, it looks loved. When Anne-Marie and I lived here it looked pretentious and stiff and… unloved.

"What?" Olivia says, and I realize I'm staring off at the contents of the open-concept first floor and not at her.

“Sorry. I used to live here and it’s weird sometimes to be back.” I give my head an actual shake and focus on her. She looks uncomfortable. Her hands are tucked up into the sleeves of her hockey jersey and her cheeks are a little pink. She isn’t looking me in the eye but instead studying the very expensive travertine tile Anne-Marie insisted we install. “I’m also sorry about… that night in Vegas. I came on strong and went in hard and fast and I… had I known I would have?—”

“Not done it,” she interrupts. “Not done me. You would have looked at me like you did in the arena hallway. Like I’m a freak. A loser. And you would have bolted.”

“No.”

She looks up now, briefly, and then turns and walks into the living room. I follow. I don’t see Dylan anywhere. She must have put him to bed already. “You say no because you think it makes you a bad guy to admit the truth. But your eyes gave it all away earlier.”

“I was shocked, okay? That you’re Tate’s relative. He’s my best friend and teammate and like I said we had a pact. Also, I was a little confused as to why you didn’t mention you were related to him." She looks me in the eye only long enough to glare and then turns and walks to the bi-fold doors that lead to the small yard that backs onto the canal. "It might not have stopped me. I mean… I definitely wouldn't have wanted to stop or leave. If anything stopped me it would have been the pact, not the virginity thing."

She looks skeptical when I say that so I keep talking and pray I don’t stick another foot in my mouth. “I don’t have a kink for virgins or anything. But I’m not phobic over the whole thing either. I truly believe that it’s not a big deal either way, which I guess you believe too since you, like, just…”

“Fucked you?” The word fucked coming out of her mouth is somehow super-hot. So is that cocked eyebrow of hers. Olivia is sexy AF in every mood. At least my dick seems to think so.

“Why me?”

She shrugs. “Why not?’

Wow, she is great at deflating any ego I might have. “Okay. Then why that trip, that weekend? You’re… twenty… four?”

“Twenty-three, shortly. Tate and I are three weeks apart,” Olivia corrects. The baby monitor on the kitchen island lights up and we both fall silent as we listen to Dylan make some noises that only babies make.

I follow her gaze to the monitor where we both watch him roll over and fall silent again. I move over to the bright yellow chaise in the corner by the windows. This isn’t something I left behind. Mallory must have bought it because Tate isn’t cultured enough to know a velvet yellow chaise goes perfectly with the smoky blue walls. I drop down onto it. Shit, it’s comfy and curved in all the right places to support my aching back. I make a mental note to ask Mallory where she got it and then it hits me. “Wait. Tate’s birthday was two weeks ago right after we got back from Vegas.”

"Look at you, Sherlock Holmes!"

“And you’re three weeks after him so…” I lean forward. “Your birthday is next week.”

"Oh look, he does math too," she quips and shoots me a gentle smile that says even she thinks her snark level is high at the moment. It's adorable. Everything about her is adorable at the moment including that slightly too-big jersey, which for some reason, I wish had my name on the back.

“I’ve got skills you do not even know about,” I tell her with a saucy wink that makes her blush. And then it hits me. I don’t know if she enjoyed it. “So, like… I know this is awkward but let’s be honest, that’s kind of our thing at this point, so can you just tell me if you came or not that night. I assumed you did, but first times are notoriously bad for women.”

"Are we really going to talk about this? Like it's a debrief after a work assignment or something?" Olivia goes from pink to red and she starts moving again, toward the bifold.

She yanks them open and once the wall is basically gone, she steps out into the small fenced garden. I can call it that now, legitimately because Mallory and Tate have a ton of potted plants and even a small vegetable plot behind Dylan's toys. Olivia won't look at me. Instead, she's got her back to me and is staring out past the wrought iron fence at the Canals. There's a bright yellow pedal boat bobbing directly in front of the house. I guess Tate and Mallory bought it. I always thought to do that but never actually did.

This house is nothing but a giant concrete ode to ‘coulda, shoulda, woulda’ for me. Ironic because standing here in the backyard is a woman who has become the exact same thing. I rub my stubbled chin. “I would have been different if you’d told me. I’m not saying you should have. That’s your choice, and I don’t know why you decided not to tell me. But now that I know, I wish I’d known then. I would have been…”

"Charitable?" Olivia offers, and I'm immediately horrified. "Sympathetic. Do me a favor? No, thank you. And no thank you for the sympathy now. It's embarrassing. Can you just go?"

She turns away from me and marches back into the house. I panic. Every step sends a shot of adrenaline through my veins. I'm getting angry with how stupid this has all become. I'm not being clear. She's taking everything the wrong way and I blame myself. I've never been a great communicator. Ask Anne-Marie.

So I do what I do best. Act. She stops to glance at the baby monitor screen and I come up behind her and slide my arms around her waist. Every part of her thin, toned body tenses as I hold her close, her back pressed into my chest. I dip my head and whisper in her ear. “The only charity work I do is for the Quake. You were never, and never could be, a pity fuck, Olivia. I don’t fuck people that don’t make me as hard as the ice under my skates.”

“Oh.” It’s a breathy soft response that makes me very, very hard. I gently push my hips into her soft, round ass. She lets out a small gasp but doesn’t move and doesn’t push me away or protest.

“Now don’t be embarrassed or shy. Remember I’ve seen you naked. I’ve had my dick inside you. I’m the only one you share this bond with right now, so no holds barred, Fireball. Be honest,” I demand, my voice soft but my tone firm. My hands slide around her hips to her abdomen. I slip them under the hem of the jersey. “Did you come when I fucked you?”

“N-No. Not during,” she whispers back and a brief strong wave of disappointment hits me. “I came from your… your tongue before, though.”

I can feel her skin heat everywhere from that confession. My fingers have danced their way up under the jersey and are currently against the soft skin just above her belly button. Why am I so turned on by her modesty? Also, thank Christ I made her come once.

“A lot of women can’t from… you know…”

“You can. With me,” I promise, and she tenses again. “If you want to.”

"What?" She starts to turn in my arms and I loosen my grip so we can be face-to-face. Her cheeks are still pink and her dark eyes wide, with fear or arousal or maybe both. God, I hope it's at least a little of both. "It was a one-night stand."

“Yeah but you were on a mission and you handed me an assignment without letting me in on the details,” I explain. “The mission isn’t complete. I’m a perfectionist and I didn’t do a perfect job. Gimme another chance.”

She bites her bottom lip. I thread a hand through her hair and cup the back of her neck. Her head tips back and our lips are a few, very small inches apart. “I’m… I’m…”

I kiss her. She responds, her tongue meeting mine. She tastes sugary and sweet, like cotton candy and Jolly Ranchers and all those other treats the VIPs get in the lounge. When I pull back her eyes stay closed, eyelashes fluttering. "Let's have a second first time, Fireball.”

There’s a sound—the front door opening—and voices. Lots of voices. We both jump back, away from each other, like the guilty parties we are. Olivia storms right past the group as they file into the living room, each face with varying shocked looks as they see me there.

“Crew? What are you doing here?” Tate’s tone is confused and there’s a tinge of protectiveness in there. Because it’s weird I’m at his house when he isn’t and I obviously knew he wasn’t here.

“I can’t find my tax statements from last year and my accountant needs them to get my mortgage pre-approved,” I tell him. “He’s on my ass like you would not believe and I keep forgetting to ask you if they’re here.”

“You could have asked me at the rink dude.” He states the very, very obvious.

Tenley is watching Olivia basically run upstairs and when she turns to me her expression is filled with curiosity. I don’t know her all that well but I know enough about her to know that a curious Tenley Garrison is a lethal Tenley Garrison. I purposely ignore her.

Shelby flashes me a stunning, flirty smile and then calls after her cousin. “Liv! Where the hell are you going?”

“Dyllie was fussing on the monitor, just checking on him,” Liv calls back.

Mallory immediately follows her up the stairs, obviously worried about Dylan. I turn back to Tate. “I didn’t think of it until I was in the car. See? I’m really bad at this, which is why I drove right here. If I waited, I would forget again.”

Tate nods but the casual look on his face is slightly less casual than I would like. His light eyes are hyper-focused on me like he's not totally buying what I'm selling. I swallow. "I figured you would be going out so I thought I would just swing by here and look myself. I heard Olivia was here with the kiddo so… I think they might be in the office. They may have fallen behind the filing cabinet I left for you guys.

Tate groans. “We were going to go out but you disappeared and your brother was in a mood so we opted to come home and order in. I would have gone out if I knew you’d want me to move furniture.”

“I can do it,” I pause. “I mean I did do it, and they weren’t there. Anyway, I should get home.”

“Nash’s mood, you should know, was caused by you rushing out of there without doing press and without saying a word,” Tate informs me as I move through the cavernous living room and dining room to the hallway with the front door. “Coach was even kinda shocked you took off but then he heard something about your wrist bothering you.”

"Yeah, I wanted to get home and ice it and do some of the exercises the trainer gave me at the end of last year," I lie again. Gee, I am so good at this. Kind of impressing myself and embarrassing myself at the same time. "Anyway, I should go do that. Nice meeting all your relatives and I'll see you at practice tomorrow."

“Yeah. Sure. As long as that wrist is okay,” Tate says, genuinely concerned, which makes this worse. I can sleep fine when I lie if it’s to protect myself or others. But when people believe it so easily well, that doesn’t sit so easy. “Don’t overdo it. Tell Coach if you think it’s not ready for ice time. Better you sit out some pre-season games now than later when we need you the most.”

“I’m sure it’s fine.” I smile and give him a wave as I make my way to my car, forcing myself not to look back.

I do however look up at the house when I get to the drive and I swear I see Olivia looking down at me from Dylan’s bedroom window. But the curtain snaps back into place before I can be sure.

I drive home ignoring another call from Nash and wondering what would have happened if the Garrison clan hadn’t interrupted me and Olivia.