Goal Line (The Dartmouth Cobras Book 7) (28 page)

They brought their plates to the high tables in the corner and sat on the stools. Cort came over a few seconds later, joining them with nothing on his plate but a chocolate muffin. He switched their plates without saying a thing and drew Olivia into a conversation about Joshua’s military service.

“Umm…excuse me?” Sahara pointed at Cort’s plate, then the one he’d stolen from her. “What are you doing?”

He popped one of the deviled eggs in his mouth and chewed slowly, his lips curving upward as he swallowed. “I just got off the phone with Akira. She said you hate any kind of boiled egg, and if you looked sad, I should find you chocolate.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin from the dispenser on the center of the table. “You’re welcome.”

Olivia snickered and continued with her favorite subject.

And Sahara ate her muffin. Which, strangely made her feel much better after she’d devoured half of it. Polishing off the rest, she eyed the table. She was actually pretty hungry. Excusing herself, she went back to the table to get in line behind the wives and management who’d gathered.

Her spine stiffened as she caught what the woman, who’d earlier mentioned Dominik being distracted, was saying. “I’m not saying they’re right, but it’s interesting that very few people had a problem when Oriana Delgado was with him. Oriana’s exotic though. I’m not sure where Silver came from. Those skinny little blondes seem to be everywhere.”

“I’m sure most of them bleach their hair,” another woman remarked with a sniff. “What’s sad is they’re not dating different races out of love. It’s a new fad.”

“Some fad!” the first woman sneered. She glanced over, spotted Sahara, and then lowered her voice a little. But not enough that Sahara couldn’t hear every word. “I honestly think this one enjoys the drama. No one pays much attention to those sluts parading around the ice, but she’s constantly in the media for something.”

Appetite lost, Sahara went back to the table. Both Olivia and Cort were watching her with concern, but she shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

The women were cruel, ignorant bitches. She could have spoken up, but she wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of upsetting her. If she ignored them, they’d eventually go away. Or get bored.

People who set out to hurt others usually stopped striking out when they didn’t get the reaction they wanted. The lesson hadn’t been an easy one to learn. Once, she’d been the type of person to fight back.

But sometimes you just had to be still and quiet. Wait for it to be over. Then find somewhere to lick your wounds. Alone.

Only, she wasn’t given the chance.

Slipping out of the press box, she’d planned to head to the bathroom for a few minutes, but she ended up almost walking into a man she was pretty sure she’d seen around the Delgado Forum. A girl in her early teens with bright pink hair stood beside him, holding a fussy toddler. The little boy hiccupped, his face red, as though he’d been crying.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but I was told Mr. Richter would be here.” The balding man looked frazzled. “My name is Dale Pritt and I represent Peter Kral and Heath Ladd. I was to bring Heath’s brother and sister to wait for him.”

Brother and sister?
Sahara nodded and opened the door, leading the trio into the room she’d just left. “He’s right in here.” The poor kids were dragging their feet, utterly exhausted. She smiled at the girl. “My name’s Sahara. Your brother is my boyfriend’s roommate. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The girl scowled. “I bloody well doubt it. We weren’t even supposed to be here.” Her scowl faded and a gleam of satisfaction shone in her eyes. “But I called his manager every hour for two days and he finally said he’d bring us.”

“Well, the flight must have been exhausting.” And Heath’s manager deserved a raise. He had taken off to talk to Dean, so Sahara led the kids to the refreshment table. The boy hadn’t spoken yet, so she crouched down, holding a plastic cup. “Do you want something to drink? Maybe a snack?” She glanced up at the girl to include her in the offer. “I can find you somewhere comfortable to watch your brother play.”

“Bran don’t talk much. He likes apple juice though.” The girl folded her arms over her chest, eyeing the table. “I like Mountain Dew.”

After pouring both drinks, Sahara led the kids to the table where Olivia was still sitting with her sons. Olivia and the guys were completely into the game, and Sahara wanted to see how the team was doing. But first, she had to make sure the kids were comfortable.

The girl hopped up on a stool and mumbled thanks when Sahara handed her the cup of Mountain Dew. Bran blew his overgrown, curly blond hair that made him look just like Heath, away from his eyes and held his arms up to Sahara. She lifted him up against her hip, and he took his apple juice.

Watching them, the girl finally cracked a smile. “He likes you. You look a bit like our mom did when she was younger. He’s only seen pictures though.” She bit her lip and stared at her soda. “My name’s Kimber. Like the gun.”

“That’s a cool name.”

“Thanks.” Kimber gazed down at the ice. “Can I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

“I don’t know anything about hockey. Heath told me he would teach me, but he’s always busy. I want to be at as many of his games as I can.” She squinted up at the Jumbotron. “Like, are both teams losing?”

“Nope, they’re tied. And if this keeps up, they’ll go to sudden death.” Both kids stared at her, wide-eyed. She grinned. “One thing I know is hockey. I’ll teach you all about it.”

A few minutes later, Dean came over and suggested Sahara bring the kids to the cushioned seats on the small balcony in front of the press box. He’d gotten someone to find blankets for them, so they were all cuddled up as they watched the game.

By the end of the third, Kimber had a pretty good grasp of the game. By the beginning of the first overtime, both kids were asleep.

Sahara managed to stay awake long enough to watch her man score the winning goal. In the third overtime.

Those men…
She yawned as she closed her eyes, just for a minute.
Are freakin’ machines.

The game was won in triple overtime. The team kept their celebration short on the ice out of respect for the fans, but when they got to the locker room, the excitement was deafening. Dominik slapped a few of the guys on the back as he made his way to his stall. His body was slick with sweat and he was eager to get under the cool spray of the shower.

First things first though. He gestured for Ladd to come talk to him, needing to see where the boy’s head was at before the reporters were allowed in. Coach Shero and Sloan had kept media exposure to a minimum during the home games, but Rebecca Bower had argued that the fans needed as much access to the team as possible while they were on the road.

Which probably explained why the PR lady was having what looked like a very serious conversation with Richards. He’d get another chance to give scripted answers. If he failed, he could end up back in the minors. He was a promising young player, but he’d proven to be a liability and might need another year or so to mature.

Ladd would come under the same scrutiny. Mason planned to give him a brief prep, which hopefully wouldn’t come off as another lecture.

The boy took a seat, tucking his shoulder length hair, slightly curly with the dampness of sweat, behind his ears. He stiffened when Hunt strode by. Fisted his hands on his knees.

Dominik frowned. “You never did tell me what the issue between you two is. Are you still sharing a room?”

Nodding, Ladd hunched his shoulders and stared down at the floor. “He was fighting with his dad on the phone. Asked me what I thought about the hotel deal.”

Finally. Progress.
Ladd talking in full sentences was nothing short of a miracle.

Except, Dominik doubted him shrugging at Hunt had caused the rift. And Ladd wasn’t elaborating.

Time for a little nudge. “What did you say?”

“He’s too old to need his daddy.”

“Just like that?” Of course like that. Dominik groaned. “You must have had friends on your team in Russia? Were you this blunt with them?”

The shrug came so automatically, Dominik doubted Ladd realized he’d come to rely on it as a form of noncommittal communication. But then his lip quirked as though he’d remembered something. “Didn’t mean to do that. Ah…took me a while to learn Russian.”

“A lot of Russian players speak English.”

“Yeah, but they didn’t talk much.”

All right, this was going to be a bit more difficult than Dominik had expected. Ladd had been pretty young when he’d played in Russia. Without parents around, and with his naturally intense focus, even a coach might have missed how little the boy was developing socially. Dominik could work on that with him, but Hunt probably wasn’t the best guy to stick him with to fix this issue.

Unfortunately, putting Ladd in another room at this point might be difficult. And the two rookies really should work out their differences.

“I get that you grew up without your parents, but you had your sister. You care what she thinks, don’t you?” He studied Ladd’s face as he cocked his head, thinking it over, then nodded. “All right, well, Hunt is grateful for how his father dedicated himself to pushing him to the top. Right or wrong, this is his situation. A little compassion would go a long way.”

The ruckus coming in as the door to the locker room opened told Dominik he’d run out of time. He sighed and put his hand on Ladd’s shoulder.

“The reporters will want to talk to you. You’ve seen interviews with other players in the league? The same old answers they all say?”

“Yeah, mate. But what’s the point?”

“The point is your new fans get to see your pretty face and hear you talk.” Dominik chuckled when Ladd made a face. “This isn’t the minors anymore, kid. Get used to it.”

The flood of cameras and mics kept Ladd close to Dominik’s side as the questions began. Dominik didn’t have to keep his full attention on the reporters surrounding him; they rarely came up with anything new. One mentioned his love life and he laughed it off with a “No comment.”

He heard every one of Ladd’s answers, and his smile grew wider as he heard “Give 100%” no less than three times.

Good boy.

A New York reporter spoke over the others. “You were notably silent during the last interview. During this one, your answers don’t even make sense.” He glanced at his notepad. “‘Are any players hiding injuries?’ got ‘We’re all giving 100%.’ You gave the same answer when asked about gay players in the locker room. Is there a reason behind you avoiding questions because, to many, it comes off as arrogance not befitting a young player?”

“Last interview was about the flight.” Ladd blinked at the man. “I’m not afraid of flying. No point in acting as though I am.”

“Then give us something worth sharing.”

“Like?”

The reporter was getting frustrated. “Again with the evasions. Can’t you answer one damn question?”

“Yes. Do your research, find something to ask me, and I will.”

Oh fuck.
Dominik shook his head. Ladd didn’t notice.

The reporter frowned. “Excuse me?”

“Questions. Do you blokes have any? No?” Ladd finally caught Dominik making a cutting motion and flashed a smile. “Then no comment.”

The locker room cleared out. The men were oddly quiet as they showered and changed, considering they’d just won a game. But Ladd’s interview would be all anyone would talk about for days.

Dominik waited until the locker room was completely empty to let the boy have it.

“Where, in any interview, have you ever heard a player tell reporters to do research?” Dominik didn’t wait for an answer. The kid could bring up the Leafs, but fuck that. “You sounded like an arrogant asshole. ‘Find something to ask me’? What the hell was that?”

“They already think I’m arrogant. The last interview, they wanted to know which players might play badly because of the flight. How would I know that?”

“You’re not expected to. Deflect!”

“I said ‘No comment.’”

“Way too fucking late and you know it. You gave the media so much to play with.” He sat back in his stall, not sure if he really wanted to deal with the kid anymore. For now, Dominik needed to get to his hotel room, hold Sahara, and forget this whole fucked-up day.

His phone rang and he checked the number. It was Cort.

“Hey. How’s Sahara?”

“Sleeping. She’s got two little kids with her—did you know your rookie has a little brother and sister?”

“No. He failed to mention them.” Dominik glared at Ladd and the boy paled.

Cort paused. “I was gonna bring them down, but security’s got barriers up at the players’ exit because there’s a crowd waiting for you all to come out. Be safer to bring her with the little ones out a side exit. Is it cool if we meet you at the hotel?”

“That’s fine. Thanks, Cort.” Dominik pressed end and stuffed his phone in his bag. He straightened and laced his fingers behind his neck, shaking his head. “Let me guess. You thought you’d impress me so much with you performance and behavior that I wouldn’t even notice the kids? You let me assume you had an older sister staying with you.”

Ladd hunched his shoulders. “I wasn’t sure when they’d be able to join me. Mr. Pritt was working out the details.”

“Which you were going to share with me when exactly?”

“When I decided if
I
wanted to stay with you. This all happened real fast. I just got custody when I proved I had a stable place in Ontario.” Ladd braced his hands on his knees and stared at the floor. “Kimber and Bran were in foster care for two years. Bran almost got adopted. I didn’t want to risk losing them again.”

Well, fuck.
The kid was in way over his head. There was no way Dominik would abandon him now. “Did they have a nanny in London? Is she coming too?”

Ladd shook his head. “She didn’t want to move. She was watching them until I was settled, but Mr. Pritt had my permission to bring them down when I was settled. Not sure why they’re here.”

Dale Pritt was a damn good manager, well-known in the league, but he wasn’t a family man. He’d likely pulled as many strings as possible to bring Ladd to Dartmouth. Relocating his siblings was likely part of his contract.

A huge responsibility. One Dominik hadn’t really considered for himself, but regardless, he’d help Ladd in any way he could. He patted the rookie’s shoulder. “Come on, sport. We’ll manage. But you’ve got to promise me one thing.”

“Anything.” Ladd looked up at him, his eyes filling with hope. The kid had probably braced himself for the worst.

Not surprising, really. From the little Dominik knew, the young man hadn’t had it easy. Felt pretty awesome to be in a position to change that for him. “We’re in this together, so no more surprises.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t call me sir.”

“Sorry.” Ladd slung his sports bag over his shoulder and followed Dominik out to the parking garage. He hesitated in front of the SUV. Glanced over at Dominik. “Hey, Mason?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks, man.”

Dominik inclined his head, then climbed into the driver’s seat of his rental. He waited for Ladd to get in the passenger side and rolled out, slowing when he spotted a few dozen fans, several in Cobra jerseys, waiting at either side of the barriers security had set up. He wasn’t sure letting Ladd around the fans was a good idea considering his mess with the press, but he didn’t have the heart to just keep driving when they’d been out here waiting so long.

Tapping the steering wheel, Dominik slowed to a stop and spoke very slowly and clearly so the kid wouldn’t misunderstand a damn word. “You smile, say thank you and you’re welcome when appropriate. You got it?”

Ladd nodded, inhaling roughly. He rolled down his window and his whole demeanor changed as he reached out to take the hat of a little boy whose father lifted him up to reach over the barrier. “Hey, buddy! Did you enjoy the game?”

Dominik signed a few hockey cards, nodding and smiling while keeping half his focus on the rookie. A few people had their phones out. Social media getting an unedited glimpse of Ladd might make or break him.

“It was
awesome
! I wasn’t sure Mom would let us stay, but Dad called her and she said it’s the playoffs,” the boy said excitedly. “We flew all the way and I was hoping I’d get to meet you. Is it true you’re from Australia? Did you ever see a wild kangaroo?”

“Only when I was about your age.” Ladd signed the hat with the boy’s Sharpie. “I spent a lot of time in Russia, but before that I lived on a farm near Sydney. Seen a lot more wallabies. And possum.”

“That’s so cool! What about killer crocodiles?”

“Never met one of those. Be pretty neat though.” Ladd plunked the hat on the boy’s head. “Probably safer watching them on TV.”

The boy laughed, the father thanked Ladd, and the small crowd dispersed, smiling and laughing with the joy of the win. Dominik pulled onto the street, driving the few short blocks to the hotel, going over what he should say to the rookie.

His interactions with the press still needed work, but the fans were going to love him. If he could share some of the warmth he’d shown the little boy to their teammates, he’d be in a much better place.

Ladd didn’t seem to mind the silence as they made their way from the parking below the hotel up to the team’s floor. After they got off the elevator, Ladd checked the text his manager had sent him with the room number where his brother and sister were staying. Sahara was still with them, so Dominik followed Ladd, who opened the door soundlessly.

Shutting the door quietly behind him, Dominik stepped softly to avoid waking Sahara or the children. The manager rose from a chair in the corner, whispered goodnight, and slipped out.

The bathroom light was still on, but the rest of the room was dark. The room had two double beds, one with a blanket completely covering a tiny form. In the other, Sahara was curled up next to a little boy who was hugging her arm and sucking his thumb.

She looked so sweet, Dominik hated to disturb her, but Ladd would want to sleep with his baby brother. He motioned for Ladd to gently move his brother’s arm. The toddler instantly latched on to Ladd’s hand, grumbling a little and sucking harder on his thumb.

But he didn’t wake up. And neither did Sahara, even when Dominik lifted her up in his arms and cradled her against his chest. He smiled at Ladd when the rookie eased onto the bed, fully dressed, with his brother still clinging to him.

Ladd smiled back sleepily. “G’night, mate.”

“Goodnight, sport.”

A few minutes later, in his own room, Dominik lowered Sahara onto the bed and covered her with the duvet. Even in sleep, he could see some of the strain of the day casting shadows beneath her eyes. She curled into a tight ball on her side, her golden hair draped across the white sheet, looking so vulnerable he didn’t feel quite right stripping all his clothes off to lie next to her.

He took off everything but his boxers and climbed into the bed, still careful not to disturb her. But despite his best efforts, she let out a soft groan and rolled toward him.

Without opening her eyes, so she was probably still half asleep.