Fated Shot

Chapter 23

Jack

After a quick morning skate, I march back into the locker room, dropping down to my stall. I’m feeling good, great even. It’s been a crazy mentality shift. I’m used to putting my head down, grinding game after game, doing whatever I need to get to retirement in one piece. For once, though, I feel invincible.

Mia’s coming tonight, and I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t playing a massive part in my newfound positivity. She’s going to be watching. The thought is literally putting a pep in my step like I’m a kindergartener with a school-yard crush, but fuck it, I don’t care.

“Brody,” a voice booms from the entrance. I look up from my skates to see a stern-looking Coach Cameron staring at me, arms crossed. Oh shittt.

“Coach?” I’m trying my best to maintain my composure despite my heart rate’s growing speed. He’s an intimidating man and one that I respect deeply. I can’t read his expression; he looks serious—or anxious, maybe? He’s usually so stoic that I have no clue what any of his facial features mean.

Overthinking is not my specialty. Just wait for what he says. You haven’t done anything wrong. What the fuck am I talking about? I have done something wrong.

Does he know?

How would he know?

He can’t know .

Fuck, I’m going to pass out. Jack, fucking breathe.

Doug Cameron took a chance on me. He was the one who offered me the first sense of permanence I’ve felt in a while. He’s a good coach and how do I repay that? By sleeping with his daughter the first chance I get. FUCK.

“A word.” It’s not a question; it's an order.

I nod, standing from my stall to follow him out. We walk in silence, me trailing like a puppy about to get reprimanded. It feels like I’m headed to the gallows, not his neatly kept, expertly designed office.

He holds the door open for me, but as soon as I walk in, he closes it behind us. That’s new.

“Have a seat, Brody.”

I silently oblige, lowering myself into the firm leather armchair facing his desk. I can’t think of a single time I’ve ever had to sit here with him. Sure, I’d pop my head in for a bit, or we’d chat plays standing up. But never have I sat across from this man or had a conversation with him that necessitated the door closed. It’s getting more challenging to breathe by the second.

Coach walks over, leaning to rest on the edge of the desk, arms crossed, staring down at me. This. Is. It.

“It’s going to be a tough one tonight. We know the Knights; they will do whatever it takes to get under our skin.”

We’re talking about hockey? Every inch of my body preparing for impact relaxes as I let out a relieved breath. I’m able to try to listen more intently as I nod. The Knights have some sort of vendetta against us. They’re mad at their ‘traitorous’ coach for moving on despite performing pitifully and doing nothing to show Doug Cameron’s incredible coaching abilities. Their team is full of shit disturbers this year, and everyone knows it.

My body has calmed enough that I’m able to catch the end of his speech. “If the time comes, can I count on you to unite the boys?” AKA, be ready to drop the gloves tonight. The relief I feel right now cannot be accurately put into words. Can he count on me to defend my team, energize the boys, and show our strength?

“That’s my job, Coach,” I reply without an ounce of doubt in my mind.

He nods with a quick smile. “Good.” Walking back to the front of the room, he opens the door.

I head out feeling light enough to fly away.

That was fucking close.

***

I couldn’t see where she was sitting, but just knowing she was there was enough for me to play like I was on fire.

I was making massive hits, used my body to stop a loose puck, and probably played the best game of my life. 2-0, shut-out.

This season as a whole feels so different. The team is really clicking. Sure, we didn't start off dominating, but it’s all coming together nicely.

As soon as the buzzer sounds, we all rally around Evan in net. He’s had a stellar performance tonight. Un-fucking-stoppable. A few of his saves from the game will probably be circulating on ESPN for the next month. Playing well as a team is unbeatable. Celebrations are bigger, and being united on and off the ice makes a massive difference. Win or lose, we’re one, and it’s the best feeling.

By the time I’m showered and leaving the locker room, I spot a familiar blonde waiting at the end of the corridor with a few others. I can’t help but smile seeing her in the family section. She might not be here for me, but I’ll hold onto the hope that she is until it becomes reality.

My whole face lights up the moment I see her. She’s wearing high-top Converse, worn blue jeans, a white crop top, and an oversized Tundra bomber jacket. She looks like a straight ten, as always, with her hair pulled high into her usual messy bun. The urge to run over and pull her into my arms is way stronger than it should be. There’s just the faintest flush in her cheeks when she catches me looking, a timid smile breaking out. God, she’s beautiful.

Behind her, some dude in a spanking new New York jersey and ballcap approaches. I’m surprised I can’t see the tags hanging off. I can smell the trouble from here as it all starts to click into place. The scene moves in slow motion as I watch him grab her waist from behind and plant a kiss on the top of her head.

What in the actual fuck? Her face contorts and my blood starts to boil the moment his familiar face comes into view. So much for level-headed. From his slimy lips, I see him mouth, ‘Surprise,’ as she looks up, clear discomfort on her face. She then rips out of his grasp, looking even more distraught.

I bound over without a single thought more, rage filling my vision. Can he not take the fucking hint? She’s uncomfortable, and I hate it. She’s been through enough with this guy—hot-headed freak. She needs calm, someone to turn to, someone who can actually keep her safe. I’d do anything to protect her.

A quick look of relief crosses her face when I step forward.

“Wrong tarp, Sebastian,” I spit coldly at him as I gently take her hand, pulling her closer to me. She follows my silent direction, allowing me to shield her from him. There’s an empty glaze in her usually lively eyes as she clings to my arm with both hands. She’s not doing well, I can tell. He did this. I’m sick of him having this control over her.

I stare him down, but he looks between us, a mix of anger and amusement in his eyes as he trills, “Oh, Doug is going to love this.” A threatening grin paints his face, causing a sting of irritation down my neck .

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the flash of a camera coming straight from where the press is roped off. The look of horror painted across Mia’s face is like a shot to the stomach. She pales immediately, dropping her arms to her side, and taking three wordless steps back.

Between unsteady breaths, she shoots a quick, panicked look at me. She's either about to cry, hyperventilate, or both. Before I can say anything, she turns in place and practically runs the rest of the way out of the arena exit.

It takes me less than five seconds to identify the photographer, but by the time I look back, Seb’s already slithered away like the snake he is. I’m tempted to run after her, but I have to see the level of damage control that needs to be done first. If I give an unprompted interview, they’ll probably do me a favor and delete the photo. The real journalists are here for the stats, not for gotcha shots of my personal life. As I turn back toward the locker room, I spot Penn in the corridor, his eyes blazing with anger. Shit.

He advances toward me, but when I go to open my mouth, he cuts me off.

“Not here, not now.” No usual lightheartedness in his tone, no sadness, just annoyance. He heads over the press area, marching toward the photographer from earlier. I can’t hear their conversation, but it looks like some heated back and forth before he poses for a few photos and answers some questions from some of the other reporters.

I stand there emotionless, just waiting until he motions for me to follow him out the exit. We walk in silence the rest of the way and don’t even utter goodbyes before we get into our cars.

The trip home felt like the longest drive of my life. I seriously didn’t need that much time to be left with my own thoughts. I tried to call her twice on the twenty-minute ride. One more time from the elevator and ten minutes later after getting back to my apartment.

This is the absolute worst. Was I not supposed to take her hand? Of course, I wasn’t. She’s not mine. The words land like a pit in my stomach. I’m such an idiot. I don’t know what to do, so I call her one last time. I don’t care if she doesn’t want to talk to me, I just need to know that she made it home safe.

On the fourth ring, there’s a pause. I wait anxiously, hoping to hear her on the other end. Careful what you wish for. Nausea hits the moment I hear her broken voice through the phone.

“H-hi.”

“Are you okay? I was so worried about you. Listen, Penn handled it; the photo won’t go anywhere. I-I’m sorry about that, okay? I’ll be more careful.” It comes out pleading and desperate. So much for calm and collected. The thought of losing her right now, though, even being away from her, is not something I can stomach. “Can I come see you?”

“I need…” Her sad voice breaks, causing my face to contort in pain. There’s a forced breath before she continues. “I just need some space right now, time to think.” The words send a clear message, but her voice, unsteady, unsure, and filled with anxiety, conveys another.

“Okay,” is all I can manage. I feel helpless, broken. The call disconnects, and I’m left standing in my kitchen feeling more alone than I ever have.

***

As I’m in the middle of changing, there’s a firm triple knock at my door. The thought that it could be Mia flashes through me, and I come racing down. What I see instead makes my chest collapse in on itself. Scott Sheppard and Penn Brody are standing outside my apartment door looking like they are about to have an intervention.

“Can we come in?” Scott’s deep voice asks, though I’m positive I don’t have a choice in this matter. Opening the door wider to allow them to step in, I try to give Penn a look, some sort of signal to convey what the fuck or something, but he refuses to meet my eyes. We all sit uncomfortably on my couch as I wait for some sort of insight into what the hell is happening right now.

Scott starts, breaking the silence.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

I don’t have the energy for this right now. I just want to… I don’t know, actually. Run? Shower? Crawl into bed and wish I’d wake up from this fucking nightmare?

“What do you mean?” I ask, trying to sound as casual as possible.

Based on the expression on their faces, neither seem too pleased with my obvious attempt at blatant avoidance.

“I told him.” Penn lets slip, part irritation and part guilt, still refusing to meet my gaze. Damn. I lower my head, pinching the bridge of my nose between my thumb and index finger. This is an intervention.

Scott still doesn’t speak. He’s staring at me like he’s disappointed, and it sucks. In the year we’ve known each other, I’ve seen him make this face at the other boys at least a dozen times. It’s never been directed at me, though. I’ve never done anything fucked up enough to necessitate it. He just stays staring at me, waiting for me to speak first or confess, maybe?

Penn glances at him, brow furrowing as he shakes his head, jaw tensing. He clearly lacks the patience Scott has in spades.

When he can’t hold it in anymore, he bursts out, “You’re risking your career, Jack. Everything we’ve worked our entire lives for. I just got to Toronto. We’re finally playing together. We’re living the dream together and you’d risk all of this? You’d risk getting traded? You’d risk leaving me alone here? You’re my brother, and you’d abandon me just like that? Over some random girl that means nothing?”

I try to focus on his intention, not his words that sting more than he’s ever going to know. Not some random girl. I swallow hard at the broken frustration coming from Penn. I’d never abandon him. I bite my tongue, though.

“You’re such a hypocrite,” he continues, pulling my focus back to him. “Head in the game and stay focused. That’s what you always tell me, right? And now you’re sneaking around, letting your game be dictated by your emotions, getting distracted… You’re going to throw it all away, and for what?”

For her.

I sit silently, letting him get it all out. I deserve it. I never meant for it to go this far, but I just couldn’t control it. I still can’t. It’s like divine fucking intervention, she came into my life, and nothing has been the same since.

Scott outstretches his hand, signaling for Penn to take a breath. He does, clenching his jaw before Scott takes over.

“Listen, we’re not here to judge you.” He makes an obvious warning look at Penn. “It’s just not a good idea, Brody.”

I stare blankly at him. Obviously, I know that. If it were anyone else, we wouldn’t be in this mess. If she were just my Mia, not Coach’s Amelia, I’d be blissfully happy, and everything would be fine. But it can’t be anyone else—it will never be anyone else. If I can’t have her, nothing else will ever matter.

“Look, I know it’s probably exciting—the game of pursuing someone who’s off-limits, the thrill of a forbidden romance—but—” He couldn’t be more wrong.

“It’s not some game,” I interrupt, shaking my head and staring at the floor. “I think I’m falling in love with her,” I admit, the words slipping out before I even realize what I’ve just said .

Penn’s head snaps up at attention when he hears the words. They both stare at me, neither seemingly knowing what to say now. That makes three of us.

“God. None of this fucking matters anyway. She… she doesn’t want to be with me.”

Saying the words out loud feels like my world has come crashing down. Their faces soften as they take in the seriousness and the clear distress in my voice that I’m struggling to hide.

“The guy with Mia? That was her ex,” I say, mostly to Penn, since he was the one actually there. “He’s a piece of shit, verbally abused her their whole relationship, and now he won’t leave her alone.” I pause for a moment, sincerity in my voice. “I didn’t want you to find out like that, but I couldn’t just stand by and watch him ambush her again.”

This time, Penn gives an understanding nod. It’s one thing he does get. If Nancy Brooks drilled anything into us during our adolescence, it’s to use our size for good, to help and protect those we love.

I really don’t know what else to say. There’s nothing to elaborate on, there’s nothing for me to justify, I have nothing left. I have… nothing.

The silence between us stretches out awkwardly until Scott rises to his feet. “Come on, let’s go grab some pizza.”

We follow behind him out into the bright hallway.