Ever After
After months and months, may I now present to you the first chapter in "Ever After," the final book in my Adam Banks trilogy!
This book is a little different from the other two in that I'm still actively rewriting it–which explains the delay. It wasn't until after I wrote it that I realized I wanted it to go in a different direction, so I'm having to fix it all now. I wouldn't just leave my faithful readers hanging, however (here's to you, bobcatwriter!), so I'm trying to get these turned around as quickly as I can!
This first chapter just more or less sets the stage for our understanding what's going on in Adam's and Lacey's lives after the big breakup. Not that their worlds aren't about to be shaken up quite a bit by a little occurrence that takes place on September 11th of 2001… (next chapter!)
Enjoy! And oh, just for bonus fun, I added faceclaims at the end for the NHL players, wives and girlfriends we are going to be introduced to in the chapter.
/*/*/*/
"Maybe one day, we'll meet again and explain to each other what really happened. Maybe one day we'll finally understand. Until then, I hope you live your best life and I hope you really do all the things you always wanted to do." – Word Porn
"The flow of time is always cruel. Its speeds seem different for each person, but no one can change it. A thing that doesn't change with time is the memory of younger days." – Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time
/*/*/*/
Everything was hard.
Lacey didn't want to believe it was entirely because of the breakup. That seemed so fatalistic and melodramatic. But no matter what she did, she just could not regain her emotional footing.
The holiday season was especially unbearable in light of the magic the prior Christmas in Switzerland had held. Perhaps anticipating this, Mom and Stuart made plans to take the family to Aunt Rachel's through New Year's. The twins weren't initially happy about being away from friends and boyfriends for a week, but Stuart insisted everyone go. Davy even went along, now old enough to spend the holidays with whichever family he wanted, and was increasingly opting to spend them with his dad. It was truly nice to have him around. Crying felt like a normal part of the day for Lacey, and the infernal tears didn't stop the entire time they were at the farm–despite the barn animals, the sleigh ride Uncle Bryce had arranged especially for her, and the various baked goods Rachel constantly offered up.
It all came to a head, however, during their impromptu Girls' Night. A couple of nights before Christmas, Bryce took Stuart and Davy into town to shoot pool, and Rachel, Mom, plus Ariel and Halen joined Lacey in the living room with hot chocolate, magazines, and lots of chatter.
"Mom, look!" Halen held up a copy of Seventeen. "I told you tracksuits were in style right now. I want a red one, and I'm going to match it to some red lipstick."
"Your butt's gonna look awful big in a tracksuit," Ariel murmured, examining a copy of Us Weekly.
"Ariel!" Their mom chided. "What's wrong with you?! Don't say that!"
Mom caught Ariel only two seconds before Lacey did. Halen was self-conscious enough about her weight, and while Lacey was a little concerned a tracksuit may not be the most flattering wardrobe choice her sister could make, if she felt confident enough in one then there would be nothing wrong with it.
Halen had turned out to be quite curvy in ways other than her expanded waistline. She was also the one who had gotten the rounded breasts and posterior, whereas Ariel remained slim and flat-chested. Ariel's build never seemed to bother her, but she made enough snide comments to Halen to cause Lacey to wonder if this was a way in which the twin was jealous of her sister. Either way, thus continued the snotty remarks the girls could be counted upon to make to one another.
Lacey rolled her eyes and turned back to studying the snow falling outside, sipping on her cocoa and thinking about White Christmas. It was December twenty-third, and she knew the Banks family would be gathering at home for their annual family tradition. The hurt wrung any Christmas joy out of her heart that remained, and she felt unable to do much more than mindlessly stare out into the white-flecked night.
"Lacey," Rachel inquired gently. "How are you holding up?'
Even the twins went quiet and glanced up. Feeling all the eyeballs in the room on her, Lacey shrugged. "Could be a lot better, but here I am."
"Is Adam home for Christmas?" Halen asked in a soft voice. "Have you talked to him?"
"I really don't know. We haven't spoken."
It was true. Lacey wasn't ready yet to seek him out on AOL, despite the many times she almost did.
"You'll get back together," her sensitive sister said decidedly. "You're soulmates."
"Yeah, trust me," Ariel threw in. "You probably won't meet anybody like him again."
"Thanks, Ariel," Lacey turned to regard her sister with mock-sincerity.
"Well, no matter what," Rachel reined in the conversation, "we support you, Honey. I know you're sad."
Mom continued to scan People magazine, not looking up. "Just so unnecessary. Adam's going through a phase. I tried to tell her to hang with him a little while, but she'd only have it this way."
Lacey was incensed. "Mom, you hated Adam when I first started dating him, so don't suddenly act like he was your best friend."
Her mom tossed down the magazine. "Lacey, you were happy with him for three years. I don't see how that could have changed so quickly just because he started taking hockey a little too seriously."
"And you have no idea what that did to me, Mom. Although you should have," Lacey shot back. "Thanks so much for all your support, Guys."
The twins and Rachel were quiet. Lacey stood up, setting her tin mug of hot chocolate on the end table with a furious clunk, and headed into the kitchen to continue watching the snow through the window over the sink. After a moment, her aunt came up from behind and put her arms around her in an embrace.
"It does get better, I promise. Your mom'll come around, Lacey. She just wants to be sure you stay happy."
Lacey snorted, thinking about how Stuart had said the same thing. "She has such a great way of showing it."
"Darlene is Darlene. You know that."
Rachel quietly stared out at the snow with Lacey for a few minutes. "Makes you think of being inside a snow globe, doesn't it?"
She nodded faintly.
"You know," her aunt continued. "When I was about your age, I broke up with my first boyfriend. And I was bone sad."
Lacey wondered if she could roll her eyes and not be reflected in the window pane. Another one of those stories. She was sick of them, and nearly pulled herself out of Rachel's embrace.
"But something was helpful to me. Every time I started feeling sad that he wasn't with me, I began to think how lucky I was that he was still here–in the world, living and breathing, just like I was. And it may sound silly, but it comforted me to remember that he was still living alongside me, even if from another place. He faced the world every day just like I did, and that one way in which we could still be together was what I had left. I'm not sure if that helps you at all, or exactly why it helped me. But I want to pass it along just in case."
I see the moon and the moon sees me, and the moon sees somebody I want to see.
Lacey gulped down more tears as her aunt's embrace tightened. She was grateful for the perspective Rachel had just given, and glad she hadn't been forced to endure another "See, it all worked out for the best!" story.
"What happened to him?" she finally dared to ask. "Did he go on to live a good life?"
Her aunt hesitated. "I didn't want to say so, as it shouldn't put bearing on what I just told you, but he was killed a few years later in the Gulf War. Made me so glad I'd appreciated the time he was still breathing."
Lacey closed her eyes. Thinking of something ever happening to Adam was excruciating, and she couldn't go there.
"You can get through this, Lacey. And you can do the hard work of grieving your relationship the right way," Rachel whispered. "But only you know what works for you."
After Christmas, 2001 was rung in from Rachel and Uncle Bryce's living room, awash in excitement. It was a festive occasion given Davy's presence and the twins' exuberance, which turned them into little girls again. The kitchen table stacked with snacks and soda doubtlessly added to their hyperactivity. It would all have been fun had Lacey not many times envisioned her and Adam snuggled up together on Rachel's green velour couch, chuckling at the antics. But reality was, she was watching the ball drop with eyes so dry and scratchy she'd had to apply drops regularly to them for weeks. She recalled what her aunt had told her, however, and whispered a prayer of gratitude to Whomever existed that somewhere, Adam was ringing in the same year. It was the only thing that gave her peace. And it lasted for the most part until the family came home, only for Lacey to find a Christmas card from Grandpa Greg in the mailbox with week-old mail that had been there since they'd left for Mantorville. She swallowed a lump in her throat as she opened up the festive card, reading Grandpa Greg's short, but sweet message to her:
Dearest Lacey,
All the best this year. Remember you have a grandpa for life.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year,
Grandpa Greg
"Grandpa Greg?" Ariel read over her shoulder. "That your new boyfriend? When I said you should go older, I meant like twenty-five."
"Ariel, mind your own business. Grandpa Greg is Adam's grandpa, and he's just a nice old man. You guys are surely old enough by now to stop butting into everything." The angry words streamed from Lacey's mouth in response to her sister's joke.
How come everyone in the family seemed so hellbent on setting her off? Or maybe, Lacey chided herself, the problem was hers. When Ariel shook her head and moved away without taking the bait to start a fight, she resolved to put forth more effort into being the calm, long-suffering older sister the girls really needed.
For the next couple of months, Lacey tried to lose her head in Spring semester, specifically in her practicum. It turned out to be a good experience after all, and she learned quite a bit about social work in the hospital environment that had never occurred to her. It only made her all the more eager to help people suffering from mental illnesses and trauma, which dissolved the fear that she'd want to switch her major.
But the day-to-day was still tinged with sadness. When her twenty-first birthday came around, just after what would have been her and Adam's third dating anniversary, the event was anticlimactic and lackluster. It certainly wasn't for lack of trying, as Stuart had hosted a surprise party one evening after Lacey had returned from work, inviting a couple of Cat's Cradle volunteers, Kristy of course, and a couple of friends she'd made at school including Sondra and Mark. But as big as this house was compared to the one she grew up in, it was still cramped quarters for a party, and Lacey found herself feeling suffocated several times throughout the evening, escaping to the bathroom to practice her breathing exercises. But she put forth her best effort to act grateful to her parents, which she was, and gracious to her guests. After she blew out the candles on her homemade red velvet cake–thanks to her Mom and the recipes Yvette still supplied–Stuart proudly set an Irish Cream coffee in front of her.
"I thought you were Scottish, not Irish, Dad," Halen giggled from where the twins hung out on the fringes of the party full of older people.
"Aye, boot we both 'ave Celtic roots, see."
After everyone left, which was quite late, Julie surprised her with a Happy Birthday phone call, apologizing for calling after midnight. "It's just I knew you'd still be up partying and all. I hope I didn't wake up your folks."
Lacey, happy to hear from her friend if feeling a little on edge, assured her no harm was done.
"Nights and weekends are so much cheaper, you know? So, definitely Happy Birthday and all, but what I was wondering about the most is, how do you feel about the news?"
Reclining on her bed with her eyes closed, Lacey furrowed her brow. "What news?"
"Lacey, the news. About Adam. You know, Georgia Sentinels?"
Lacey sat up slowly, mulling over the name. "What? Who is that, a pro hockey team? Is..."
"...Adam going to play for the NHL? Shouldn't you be the first one to know?"
It took time—maybe a few seconds tops, but it felt like hours—for Lacey to process this information enough to formulate a response. "H-He is?"
Julie was quiet for a moment before inquiring, "Why does this feel weird? Lacey, you should know all about it. He inked a deal last fall with the owner of the Sentinels down in Savannah. He's going there this summer to attend training camp and will go back to play for them after graduation. I mean, right?"
"Julie," Lacey shook her head before reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Adam and I aren't together anymore. We haven't been since October."
"What?" Astonishment coated Julie's reponse. "Why not? What happened?"
Taking a deep breath, Lacey closed her eyes. "Are you sure you want to know?"
"Uh, I did ask."
Thus she began the story she'd dreaded to tell. Twenty minutes later, she could only hear the crackle of the phone line, and wondered for a moment if Julie had hung up.
"Wow," her friend spoke at last. "Lacey, are you sure, though? I mean if you'd given him an ultimatum, or just taken a break, not nixed the whole thing…"
"But this just proves I did the right thing, Julie." Lacey had to pause before continuing in order to take another breath, feeling a little dizzy. "I mean, he made it. He did it. And now, he's headed for a whole new world. There isn't room for me there."
"There will always be room for the people who love him the most," Julie countered. "So I think this just means he needs you more. He needs to stay grounded and anchored to who he really is."
"Yeah but I can't be a rock for him anymore." Lacey stood up and began pacing, feeling like tearing every last strand of hair out of her head suddenly. "I would never have been able to walk this road with him." She was frantic for someone to get it, for her reasoning to be justified. She did do the right thing. If only somebody would just affirm her here.
"Oh my God, Lacey. You're the only one who could. I mean, who's kept him from killing himself this whole time?"
"I gotta go." Lacey's ears were buzzing. She needed a minute after realizing she let her boyfriend go mere days before his dream came true. Was she right and it was a good thing? Or had leaving him then been a horrible mistake? What if Julie predicted right and he needed her?
There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Lacey, I'm sorry. I do get it. You know how much you can handle. If th—"
"I'll call you back later, Julie. I promise." After hanging up the phone, Lacey fell back onto her bed limply. She wasn't sure how long she laid there, but every thought in the world seemed to fall in on her in much the way the contents of an abruptly opened closet door might. The disbelief lingered before it was replaced by pride, happiness even, for what Adam had accomplished. But close on its heels were the words Julie had uttered.
He needs to stay grounded and anchored to who he really is.
That sounded like a terribly romantic and worthy task for her to see to. But it was no longer the early days of their relationship, and Lacey now realized that motives like "saving" someone and sticking by them no matter what could be fiercely toxic. She had absolutely needed to let Adam go, regardless if she knew his dream was going to come true.
Exactly. Right?
Lacey let out a mix between an exhausted groan and a sob. Just as she was regaining her footing…
The next morning she made a phone call to Dr. Hemby to try to get squeezed in for an extra session. It was something Lacey rarely ever did, but right now, her mind needed more than a little guidance to know where to go with the fresh information.
"So what he wanted all these years happened, huh?" Dr. Hemby sat on the floor across from her a few hours later, sipping on peach tea that had a slightly off-putting fragrance.
Lacey wrinkled her nose. "Um...yeah. It did."
"And where do you think things would go if you were with him now?"
This was something she had to think about, and for the next few minutes, she and Dr. Hemby rationed through every scenario possible: Adam being consumed by training camp, and her waiting in Minneapolis for him to come back, worried for his health every second. Then there would be the final year of college before he left to play. Did she really think he would slow down now? Afterward they discussed the practicality of a long-distance relationship, particularly where one person was wrapped up in a demanding and high-pressure career. Not typically given over to jealousy, would Lacey suddenly be if she knew her boyfriend was off partying between practices with a revered pro team and maybe even other celebrities? Just how long could he put off reevaluating his life?
Meanwhile, here she would be, doing the nine-to-five social worker thing. Their worlds would become so different they would soon have nothing to talk about. Sure, she could have gone to Savannah with him. But would her constant concern smother him? Would she feel like a boring afterthought in his new, exciting life?
Taking a deep breath as she walked to her car after the session of verbal processing with Dr. Hemby, Lacey knew that the battle with her head was far from over. But she had received confirmation with her own words: this was the best thing. To seal the deal, Dr. Hemby had recommended she write a therapeutic final goodbye letter to Adam and consider burning it after. That sounded great to Lacey. She would do this last thing, and then she would move on with her life. She was at too critical a point, her last few months of undergrad looming ahead.
She and Adam had been desperately in love. And she had left. But in time, she would forgive herself for hurting him and find peace in knowing all was as it should be.
Above all, just be happy, Lacey scrawled at the end of the three page missive a few days later. And I'll try to be, too.
/*/*/*/
First, there were the trainers.
"Mr. Banks, meet the men who will be pushing you to be your very best this month."
The dieticians.
"For the duration of camp, you will not put anything in your mouth that isn't outlined by Mr. Fisher or Ms. Berkshire."
The chef.
"Here at the training facility, we fuel with nothing less than top of the line ingredients and preparation."
The coaches.
"Tony Hathaway, Britt Horowitz, and you'll recall Head Coach Gary Stillwell of St. Louis Blues' fame. Gentlemen, meet Adam Banks."
Equipment managers…
"If it doesn't work like a dream, Money McCullin wasn't in charge of it."
Team physicians.
Teammates.
Teammates' girlfriends and wives.
The hardcore fans waiting outside every day as the guys left preliminary training, hoping for autographs.
The puck bunnies.
By the third evening Adam reached the swanky condo he was staying in for the next month, he was exhausted on a whole new level, his head swimming. And training was still three days from starting.
The first thing he did when he awoke from a nap four hours later, half hanging off the couch, was line all his medications on the bathroom counter. They would stay well stocked, and he would guarantee it. Given his diagnosis, this team was taking quite the chance on him.
"Well we certainly weren't going to pass you up." Mr. Browning, owner of the Georgia Sentinels, wore an easy smile underneath his salt-and-pepper mustache. His eyes were merry, his gut round, and he was thoroughly different from what Adam had imagined. But the man seemed to have all the faith in the world in him. "With a scoring record like you've got and the high character references to boot, I'd say we lucked out to snag you before somebody else did. Welcome to Georgia, Mr. Banks."
Never before had Adam been called Mr. Banks, and it was odd. But he liked it.
He didn't talk to his parents for the first several days, and when he finally called home, he was ashamed at his mother's first words.
"Adam, we were worried," she spilled. "I just knew they were working you to death."
"Well we haven't actually started training yet, but I'm sorry, Mom. I've just been busy." Adam stood on his balcony, staring with interest at Savannah's cityscape below him. "Everything's fine."
"Everyone's nice?"
"Sure, everyone's nice."
His dad piped up. "And this Browning fellow, did he give you a good impression?"
"Yeah. I think so, I mean." He felt his spine tense up during his father's grilling. His dad's questions always hit differently than his mom's did.
His parents kept their phone conversation short but sweet, even though Adam sensed that his mother had a lot more questions to ask. He appreciated that they were trying to give him space to adjust to his new circumstances.
And what an adjustment it would prove to be. Adam had felt very equipped to head into training camp on a physical level, as he was notorious for pushing his body beyond all bounds. But, he quickly discovered on the day his testing began, he had clearly had no idea. Every muscle, sinew, bone, cell, and nerve throbbed by the time the trainers had finished recording his starting fitness stats, and he by no means came out on top.
How was this possible?
"Sukin syn," whimpered one of his Russian fellow prospects as he collapsed on the ground the minute they hit the locker room.
Adam wasn't about to resort to theatrics himself, but he knew he probably echoed whatever sentiment the guy had uttered. By sheer force of will, he turned to head for the showers, but heard his name called out. The voice belonged to Mitch Stoddard, the Sentinels' captain, whom he had met only briefly on one of the days prior. "Come on out to the cold plunge," he gestured down the hall. "Trust me, those hot showers after training are in the past once you experience this."
Figuring he certainly had nothing to lose and there was no more discomfort that could possibly be worse than what he felt right now, Adam turned to follow him, glancing back once more at the Russian guy to see if he heard the recommendation. But either he hadn't, or didn't care, because his teammate continued to lay prostrate on the floor.
When he reached the aquatics room, Adam marveled at how each of the guys in the ice bath seemed completely comfortable in what was apparently fifty degree water. Of course, unwilling for a moment to outwardly balk, he tried to make his way over as casually as he could, fighting against his tensing muscles. Upon first hitting the water, a line from Titanic unwittingly kareened through his mind about "a thousand knives stabbing you all over your body." Adam had to brace to keep his teeth from chattering, and he avoided looking anyone in the eye for fear of being labeled a weak newbie. But he apparently didn't have to fake around Stoddard–or "Stud" as his teammates jokingly called him.
"Yeah, it'll rock you to your core at first," the guy spoke up, drifting over. "But trust me. You'll be able to tell a big difference tonight."
Adam simply nodded, unable to speak just yet. How was it he was from Minnesota, yet hadn't appreciated the finer points of a cold plunge?
He stayed in the water as long as he could take it, then called it and climbed out of the tub, trying not to be overly quick about grabbing his towel.
"Hey Minnesota."
It took Adam a few seconds of looking around while toweling off before realizing it was him another guy in the pool was addressing.
"Come over to Stud's place tonight. We're gonna hang out, play a little pool. Tori makes the best guac."
As if reading Adam's mind, another guy pointed to Mitch. "His wife. Yeah, we also geek out a little and throw it back to high school with board games. Ever played 'Battleship'?"
Battleship. The very word conjured up memories from another lifetime that Adam really didn't want to relive–those of sitting in his bedroom or up in his attic, horse-laughing with the most beautiful girl in the world, each of them holding a game board with a cluster of plastic ships between them.
"Ah. Thanks, but I'd better get some sleep before doing all this again tomorrow." Adam gave a half smile, hoping this didn't make him too uncool. It felt odd to be worrying about that again, but this was a whole different playing field from high school and college. However, the idea of playing the mentioned game wasn't setting well in the pit of his stomach just then.
What Adam ended up doing instead was packing in some egg yolks and greens with very little dressing (disgusting, even for him), and lying on his bed flipping mindlessly through the radio. His mind kept going to his laptop computer, still packed away in his satchel in the corner of the bedroom. The last message he had typed as his Away status on AOL instant messenger had been, simply, "Happy Birthday." It had been up since that day back in March, and hadn't changed it in four months. Somehow, he wasn't ready to take down the final words he had indirectly spoken to Lacey.
But he really should. It was time to move on. Things were going really great for him. After one more year of school, he'd have a degree and a contract with a fantastic up-and-coming hockey team. With all that, there really wouldn't be much time for reminiscing anymore.
Adam rolled his eyes as the final strains of "Lady Marmalade" faded from the airwaves to be replaced by Destiny's Child's "Bootylicious." There had to be another good station. He kept flipping the clock radio dial. The next station over would have been more to his taste, but unwise to listen to given his frame of mind. He only listened to a couple of cords of "It's Been Awhile", followed by Sugar Ray crooning "When It's Over", before feeling a terrible pang and just flipping the Off switch. Besides–he truly did need to sleep, and music would only keep him from it.
Thankfully, what Stud had told him was right. In the hours since the cold plunge, Adam had felt his muscles loosen up and the inflammation slowly drain from them. The effect left him drowsy and ready for a good rest.
Things were great. The future wouldn't be easy, but it was bright. Lacey had chosen not to come with him on this journey, and he would just accept that and leave her behind. He hadn't been quite as successful at following through on that vow as he wanted to be. But he had to keep trying, despite the fact that he wanted nothing more, as he lay there in the darkness, than to call her and tell her about every single thing that had happened during the most important week of his life so far.
"Time kills pain, Honey," his mom had assured him before he left, apparently sensing that he still needed to hear those words even after nine months.
He was counting on it.
/*/*/*/
It took roughly two weeks for Adam to hit his "runner's high." When he did, he was unstoppable. He shattered his off-ice fitness stats record, taking on his high jumps like a beast and blasting past two weight classes in a week. The hardest part soon became just tolerating the thick, humid Georgia heat. It seeped into the gym, onto the ice…just about everywhere he went. And it was damn hard for him to handle.
But no matter, really. His mood was still high enough that, when he was invited again to Stud's place for his teammate's birthday, he accepted. What could it hurt?
"Minnesota is coming? Really?!" the sturdy Siberian he'd come to know as "Mak" Dmitriev boomed in his heavily accented Russian, slapping him on the back. Something about the guy reminded him of a mix between Portman and Morrigan–good-natured most of the time, but with a crude sense of humor. To boot, he was one of the goalies, another similarity to Morrigan. Only Mak took his job way too seriously, resulting in more than one nearly-physical altercation with the goal coach during on-ice training.
Adam gave a little nod. "Yeah. I'll be there."
"You want I should bring a girl you to take home after?"
He snorted in laughter, but upon turning to look back at Mak, he realized the other guy was serious.
"Oh, I'm…it's fine. I'm good," Adam stammered.
"Then a guy?"
Adam blinked. "No. Thank you, I'm fine."
Mak shook his head like a dog, sending shower water flying right in Adam's face. "All right. If you're sure. Got to let go the stress of here some way, yeah?"
Letting out a little laugh, Adam shook his head. "Yeah, true. But no need making connections just to break them in a couple weeks. And some girls can get a little crazy with that kind of thing."
The excuses flowed forth rather easily. But it was true that Adam was hardly up for a romantic encounter just yet, casual as it may be. He wanted to focus on hockey–that was it.
Stud's house was packed with not only his teammates this time, but the wives and girlfriends, most of whom he still hadn't met. A lot of these guys had married pretty young, apparently seeking the stability that came with a "ride or die" partner. But a majority were still single like Adam. Some brought a girl with them to the gathering. The unspoken "rule" of pro hockey when it came to relationships, Adam was learning, was not to distract yourself with a brand new girlfriend–or at least not during the season. If you already had one, great. If you didn't, keep it casual with the ladies.
The place was top of the line. Stud lived in a roomie contemporary home, all on the ground with a damn near Olympic-sized pool in the back. The house sported a weight room, a game room, three guest rooms and a gourmet kitchen. The bathtubs and showers had jets. But it still seemed, to Adam, a little smaller and more modest than what he expected the Sentinel's captain to live in. At the same time, though, Stud was a modest kind of guy. And where Adam didn't know exactly how to fit in and where to insert himself, Stud's wife Tori saved the day.
About a half hour into the evening, she approached him holding a drink.
He stared at it for a moment.
"Bloody Mary. Think you can handle it? Just one, I swear. And hey! It has tomato juice in it. Healthy, right?" She smirked, and Adam instantly liked her. Far from the tall blonde former models who held cocktails and lingered in a single lump beside the pool, Tori had chestnut skin and thick, curly ethnic hair piled atop her head.
He felt a little surprised. There were very few Black men in the NHL, and he hadn't seen a single accompanying Black woman. Certainly not that there was anything wrong with the idea. It was actually quite refreshing to see the venture from the norm.
"I think I can," Adam returned Tori's wry smile, taking the drink. "Thank you." He took a sip of the tangy drink, more tomato juice than liquor, and continued to survey his surroundings.
"Ah. The WAGS." Tori clucked her tongue, following his gaze. "A bunch of talking heads saying nothing much. But don't underestimate them. They still have pull."
Adam peered over at her. "Aren't you one of them?"
"Touche," Tori let out a little laugh. "I like to kid myself that I'm different, but who really knows? Okay, ready for the lineup?"
He leaned against the patio rail, settling in. "Shoot."
"The blonde one standing a little apart from the rest of them? Johanna Brendl."
Adam took in the woman's beautiful but aloof expression as she stared at the other women with her untrusting cat-shaped eyes, nursing a drink.
"Sky Brandl's wife from the Czech Republic. Just watch out. She likes to stir the pot, her and her Kate Spade addiction."
Chuckling, Adam took another sip of his Bloody Mary.
"And there in the middle of the hive we have the Queen Bee, Vera Flaherty."
"Oh, Lannie's wife." This one Adam had met already, briefly. Her husband was a much revered defenseman who'd been playing the game since 1986. This woman stood taller than most of the women, with wavy auburn hair and a proud expression.
"Another one to look out for. Some of these ladies have a serious way of influencing their husband's game," Tori shook her head. "And the brunette standing next to her? Jade Grayson. She's a kid–nineteen. But she has her eye on being one of the Greats."
Adam figured Tori must be around Stud's age, twenty-eight. He supposed that to her, nineteen was still a "kid".
"Meredith Something-or-Other. She's the girlfriend of Robert Gammon." Tori nodded toward a redhead lounging in a pool-chair, watching the other women longingly. "According to Vera, she pretty much doesn't exist. There's a certain next-level status the wives have over the girlfriends. Especially the newer ones. Anyway, probably the nicest normal girl, as you would say, is Sam Campbell, dating Aaron Hosterman. On Vera's other side."
Adam observed the young women standing with the others, wearing an amicable expression. She was no great beauty, but seemed offhand to be comfortable in her skin as she smiled during a story being told to her by a very pregnant woman holding…surely not a glass of wine.
Tori pointed out a few others before smiling back at Adam. "There. Now you know a little about the true backbone of the team–the women."
Adam let out a deep breath. "I'll try to remember them."
"You attached?"
The question felt a little personal to him but he could tell already that Tori was a straight-shooter. "Um…no. I'm not."
"Good. Stay that way. It seems like those guys are the happiest on the team. Nobody to worry about but hockey." Tori reached out and took Adam's empty glass. "Good to meet you, Minnesota."
Adam smiled a farewell to Tori before turning back to aimlessly watch the women's interactions at the pool. He guessed it really was true that these ladies' lives were lived at the whim of the hockey league. No wonder they sought status in their image and connections.
But enough thinking for now. He would go find his guys. The long weeks ahead would be made more or less bearable by the bonds he forged with his fellow teammates. And it was then, as Adam turned with a sigh to go join the current poker game, that the reality began to sink in:
In the NHL, he wasn't playing just one game.
/*/*/*/
Head Coach Gary Stilwell - Paul Bettany
Lannie & Vera Flaherty - Scott Eastwood & Bryce Dallas Howard
Mitch & Tori Stoddard - William Moseley & Kat Graham
Jade Grayson - Lily Collins
Samantha "Sam" Campbell - Shailene Woodley
Sky & Johanna Brandl - Jamie Dornan & Natalie Dormer
Meredith Prynne - Riley Rasmussen