Losing an Edge (Portland Storm Book 13) (9 page)

Levi wanted more, too.

In the week since that first date, I’d seen him three more times. He hadn’t been pushy in order to convince me to talk. If anything, he was the soul of patience when it came to letting me reveal what I was comfortable with in my own time. But damn if he wasn’t persistent about finding ways to see me.

Following a Storm home game against the Predators, he’d been one of the first guys to reach the owner’s box, where the families watched the game. I’d been talking to Katie Babcock all night, and he’d used that to convince me to go have a late dinner with her, himself, and his brother. We weren’t out as late that night as we had been on our date, but he’d been just as charming as ever. He and Jamie had a special bond, very similar to the one I had with all my siblings. They were comfortable together and could tell jokes at one another’s expense, but their teasing somehow only drew them closer instead of driving them apart.

I couldn’t help but notice that Jamie never once said anything to make his brother feel less than. Maybe Levi felt he wasn’t as good as his brother, but I doubted Jamie would agree. If anything, Jamie spent half the night listing off his brother’s attributes and making sure I was aware of what a good catch he’d be. It was as if he were checking items off a list, lining them out for me so I couldn’t possibly miss them. Had Levi told Jamie that I wasn’t ready to jump in headfirst? Maybe Jamie sensed my apprehension all on his own.

The next day, I’d barely gotten home from a session with Anthony and was still in my grungy, sweaty workout gear when Levi and Cam had come in together. Levi claimed to be bored, and that he thought some time hanging out with the kids would help with that. Even if Connor and Cassidy hadn’t seen through the lie, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that Cam, Sara, and I all had. Still, Levi had spent the entire afternoon with us, letting Connor jump all over him and cuss at him like Anthony had done in the ball pit, while Cassidy plucked out his leg hairs one at a time, all without a single word of complaint despite hissing in pain more than a few times. He ended up sticking around long enough that Sara invited him to stay for dinner, ignoring the funny look that Cam gave her and the uneasiness she must have sensed in my eyes. So he’d stayed. And despite myself, I’d been glad.

But today was the real kicker. Tomorrow, the guys were due to leave for a week-long road trip, and today was one of their mandated days off. No practice. No video sessions. No meetings or children’s hospital visits. Nothing they had to do for the team at all. Cam and Sara had taken the kids to a bouncy house so Connor could burn off all his energy and would hopefully nap this afternoon, leaving me with all sorts of time to myself. I adored my brother and his family, but sometimes I needed a break from toddler time. This came as a very welcome reprieve.

Anthony had to work today, and I thought that was the perfect excuse for me to go out on the ice all by myself. I could have spent my time applying for jobs—which, now that I was 99.99% certain I’d be staying here in Portland, I ought to do—or I could have spent the day filling out the dozens of forms I needed to file in order to see if they could expedite my citizenship stuff due to my status as an elite athlete, but all I wanted to do was skate. There was no better way for me to be alone with my thoughts. To try to settle my mind and wash away all the insanity my life had become in the last few weeks.

So that was exactly what I did.

I took my iPod and speakers with me to the ice house. I paid for two hours at the rink Anthony and I had been using so I’d have it all to myself. I was still lacing up my skates when the door opened and I shot my head up, only to see Levi Babcock coming in with his hockey skates draped over his shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. “Why did they let you in? I’m supposed to have the ice all to myself.”

“That’s what Jonny told me. He texted me after you left. I let Steve up front know you were expecting me.”

“I wasn’t.” I tried hard not to grumble it, but I don’t think I was very successful.

“You weren’t,” he said, slowing his pace. “Why would Jonny tell me that?”

“No idea.” This time, I definitely grumbled.

What had brought on this change in my brother? I didn’t know, and I didn’t like it. Why couldn’t he be a growly papa bear, warning Levi away from me like he’d been at first?

“So does that mean you want me to go?”

I scowled, deep in thought as I debated my options. I’d told him we could be friends, but he was coming around an awful lot for someone who only wanted to be my friend. I honestly shouldn’t encourage him, and letting him stay would definitely do that. Granted, it seemed like everyone in both of our lives was bent on giving the guy hope. Jamie had practically thrown his brother at me that night. And why else would Cam have let him come home with him the other day? He wouldn’t have. Plain and simple. Sara should know better, after what I’d confided in her, but that hadn’t stopped her from giving us a bit of a nudge. And Cam texting Levi to tell him I was here and expecting him? It was as if the whole world were conspiring against me and trying to persuade me to date again before I was ready.

“I guess I should go, then,” Levi said, turning to leave.

“No, stay.” The words were out of my mouth without my full permission. I’d almost settled on telling him to leave. If I changed my mind now, though, I’d look like a crazy girl. And maybe I was. It was hard to know sometimes. “Did you bring the rest of your gear?” Cam almost never hit the ice without at least his stick, and usually a heck of a lot more than that—pads and tape and all sorts of other paraphernalia.

“You mean it?” Levi hitched a hip against the boards, crossed his arms in front of him, and grinned at me—a cocky move if ever I saw one, but on him it came across as sweetly flirtatious. “I thought I should get some work in, even if we don’t have practice today. Bergy’s been kicking my ass lately about needing to improve my stride so I can be on the puck faster. I’m only skating today. If it’s okay with you.”

“It’s okay as long as you don’t gripe and moan about the holes in the ice from my toe pick.”

“That’s Koz, not me.”

“That’s every hockey player I’ve ever met who’s had to share the ice with figure skaters.”

“And every figure skater I’ve ever met who’s had to share the ice with hockey players complains about how bad our pads smell, so we’re even.”

“If you say so.” I had to fight off a grin, though. It was true. Hockey pads stunk as bad as Cassidy’s diapers, only in a uniquely foul sort of way.

He winked. “Fair enough. My complaining lips are sealed.”

I finished tying off my laces and got up, stripping off the sweatshirt I’d worn to the rink. I tossed it on the bench and grabbed my iPod and speakers to set on the boards. “My music won’t bother you, will it?”

“Please tell me you’re not playing Bieber.”

“Nah. Michael Bolton,” I said to torment him.

His eyes went wide.

“It’s a mix of stuff. I won’t swear there’s no Justin Bieber, but I can promise a lot of variety. Rock, pop, rap, maybe even some country.”

“You listen to country?” Levi climbed over the boards instead of bothering with the door. Typical hockey player move, and one that only emphasized how long his legs were compared to mine.

“Tell me how I was supposed to grow up in a house with Cam and not be exposed to some Carrie Underwood and Florida Georgia Line.” I hit
Play
and headed out to the ice—using the door, like a civilized person.

The mix started with “Lose Yourself” by Eminem, and Levi nodded appreciatively.

I raised a brow and took off to skate.

“I learn something new about you every day,” he called after me, heading toward the other end of the ice.

“Only seven thousand four hundred and twenty-seven days to go before I even think about revealing anything you want to know,” I muttered to myself.

“
HEADS UP!” HAMMER’S
shout came only a nanosecond before the puck flew straight for both the bench and my head. I was smart enough to duck, but that left Drywall Tierney, our head equipment manager, right in the line of fire. That frozen piece of vulcanized rubber hit him in the jaw, which spurted blood almost immediately.

The trainers rushed him down the tunnel to stitch him up, one of them holding a towel to Drywall’s chin as they scurried away.

Bergy slapped one hand on my shoulder, the other on Hammer’s. “Get out there boys. Let’s keep the pressure on them.”

We were in Denver playing the Avalanche, leading by a single goal in the third. The Avs weren’t the best team in the Western Conference by any stretch of the imagination. At least not this season, although they had some pieces in place for the future. Right this second, those pieces were on the ice, meaning they had some firepower up front that we didn’t want to face. Better to keep the puck in their end and not give their offense the chance to go to work.

Hammer and I headed over the boards, and he tapped his stick on my skates to gain my attention. “I’ll pass it to you. You get the damn thing out of our zone. Clean fucking first pass, and we’ll let the forwards have at it.”

I nodded and took my position for the face-off.

Hammer had been my defensive partner for the last couple of weeks. He was still new to the team, but he definitely wasn’t new to either the game or the league. Our general manager had signed him right before Christmas since we had a lot of injuries on
D
. He might be getting up there in years compared to a lot of guys in the league, but Hammer was still a steady presence, and the two of us were learning to work well together on the blue line. He was more of a stay-at-home defenseman, playing solidly in our end but rarely showing up on the score sheet. I was penciled in as an offensive-minded, puck-moving defenseman. That was what they kept trying to groom me into being, at least, but so far in the NHL, I hadn’t done so well with that role. Still, I was the better of the two of us when it came to passing the puck to our forwards. We had a plan when we worked together, and we stuck with it.

Koz lined up to take the draw with his two wingers, Nate “Ghost” Golston and Axel “Jo-Jo” Johansson. The puck had barely hit the ice before Koz won it cleanly back to Hammer. He backed up a couple of strides and waited for each of the rest of us to settle in place. Once he had a clear lane, he saucered the puck over to me. His pass hit my stick right on the tape. I was already in motion, heading out of our defensive zone. A Colorado winger tried to poke-check the puck away from me, but I stickhandled my way around him and passed it up to Ghost, who was waiting at the blue line.

Clean entry. We got in the zone and the forwards went to work.

The Avs backchecked like crazy, trying to force the puck out of the zone. No luck. Koz had always been a crazy motherfucker, but he was even more doggedly determined when he had the puck on the stick. Ghost was small but strong as an ox and faster than should be legal. Jo-Jo could play keep-away for what feels like hours. When Bergy had gotten the idea to put those three together on a line a couple of months ago, it was like magic. All three of them started to play up to their potential—except for the fact that they still didn’t score as much as everyone hoped they would. They spent way too much time showing off their various skills and not enough time shooting the fucking puck toward the net.

That was what they started doing now. The game started to feel like a passing clinic. We had the Avs hemmed into their zone and exhausted from chasing those three around, but no shots on net.

Ghost got the puck down near the goal line, but that left him with a crazy angle to shoot from, and he had two big Colorado defensemen bearing down on him. Koz and Jo-Jo were both well covered. For some reason, the remaining Colorado winger was covering Hammer instead of me. Dumbass. I whacked my stick on the ice a couple of times to gain Ghost’s attention. In no time, the puck was screaming my way.

One-timer. Right off the goalie’s pads.

But all three of our forwards crashed the crease, and Ghost managed to tip the rebound high and tight, under the crossbar and in the net.