Chapter 18: Puck Me Secretly: Chapter 17

BY NOON, our legal team had banned the reporter from entry to our stadium until further notice. They also threatened to ban the entire NCR news station from our stadium and all future events, unless Gary, their reporter, dropped his charges and their network posted a public apology.

The news station responded within thirty minutes and complied. Gary gave a heartfelt apology for misleading the public and they suspended him without pay.

I couldn’t wait to tell Max. I brought my lunch down to the rink to watch the team practice, hoping to catch Max afterwards to tell him the good news. I studied Max as he worked. Despite what happened last night, he worked hard while they skated speed drills. It did not surprise me that Max led the team with his speed.

A sharp whistle blew.

The team stopped, all of them breathing hard.

Baxter, the head coach, called out, “Since Logan is dragging his ass, we will start from the beginning.”

Groans sounded from the players.

Baxter continued to ride Max’s ass. I watched Max push himself harder than anyone else, but his best was never good enough for Baxter.

“Logan, you look asleep out there.”

“Logan, how hungover are you?”

“Logan, why do you bother to show up, if you won’t do the work?”

They did the same drill again. And again. And again. Until they were all dripping with sweat and heaving for oxygen.

When they moved to an offense drill I breathed a sigh of relief.

Three offense players with the puck, played against two defensive players and a goalie.

I watched as Max wove up the ice with the puck. Max waited to pass but the defense covered the other two players. Max shot the puck and easily hit the net.

The whistle pierced the air.

“Logan, you think you’re a one-man team? Learn to pass the puck. This isn’t the Logan show.” Baxter yelled, shaking his head in disgust. “Again.”

I watched as Max started with the puck again. The defense covered the other players. Max took advantage of a split second that his teammate was free. The pass was perfect and the other player scored.

The whistled echoed.

“Logan! Why would you pass? You were wide open,” Baxter yelled, his face red in anger.

The players exchanged glances. Baxter was being a complete dick. We all knew it.

Max circled back to Baxter.

Baxter ignored him and blew his whistle. “We’re done for today. Thanks to those of you who mentally showed up to this practice. Your commitment to our team has not gone unnoticed.”

The team and the other assistant coaches filed off the ice. It concerned me that Baxter could not remain professional with Max.

Baxter called out. “Logan.”

Almost off the ice, Max made eye contact with me with an empty expression. He stopped short and skated back towards Baxter.

At that moment, I realized that Baxter had no idea I was listening.

“I don’t give a shit who you are or how many goals you score, you can’t come to my practices and act like you don’t give a shit.” Baxter skated around him and then stopped in front of his face. “You think you’re such hot shit, but you’re a washed-up loser.”

Max visibly swallowed but didn’t speak.

“If you don’t get your ass in gear and act like you’re part of this team, I will ensure you get cut. Do you understand that? Everyone is sick of your spoiled and lazy attitude.”

Max’s eyes narrowed.

“Watch your back. I don’t want you on this team and I can’t wait until you’re gone.”

Baxter skated away, leaving Max to stand there. I waited until Baxter disappeared off the ice before I headed down the stairs to the ice level. Max met me at the gate. His jaw was tight, and he seemed to be holding back a lot of emotion.

“What was that about?”

“Nothing,” he took off his helmet. Sweat ran down his face. His hair was dripping wet. Not the picture of someone who was lazy or coasting.

“Max, I saw you out there. You work harder than anyone else out there.”

“It’s fine.”

“I don’t know what kind of head games Baxter’s playing but he’s talking bullshit. Everyone else raves about your performance in practices and games.”

His eyes met mine. He was trying to gauge if I was telling the truth.

“You’re our most valuable player. Let no one tell you otherwise!”

“Max!” a voice called. From behind me, Katrina headed down the stairs. She wore nude heels, a black pencil skirt, and her blouse was almost see-thru. I clenched my teeth.

“Hey Katrina,” resignation traced in his voice.

She didn’t even glance my way. “I have great news.”

“Could use it.”

“Well, I did my magic behind the scenes and the reporter has dropped his charges against you and issued a public apology!” Her cheeks were flushed.

What the hell. She was taking credit for my work?

His blue eyes lit up. “That’s amazing. Wow, I owe you.”

She gave a cute little shrug. “You can count on me.”

I snorted, and they both turned to me.

I wanted to speak up and let Max know that I had been the one who helped him. My tired brain tried to think of a response.

She didn’t help you, I did.

I’m the one who had the reporter banned.

I’m the one who really has your back.

Everything that came to mind sounded stupid and petty.

Katrina’s lips curled. “Someone should have told me that it’s casual Tuesday.”

I felt myself flush as I watched Max’s eyes drop to my jeans and sneakers.

Without saying a word, I turned to head up the stairs.

Max’s voice made me pause on the steps. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Nothing important.” I kept walking.

I STOMPED BACK to my office. I couldn’t believe that Katrina took credit for all my hard work, and worse, I couldn’t believe I had said nothing. I had a million responses, five seconds after the fact, but at the moment, my tired brain could not come up with anything that sounded intelligent.

Katrina drove me crazy. There was no doubt in my mind that she had tipped off that reporter. The question was why? She pushed to have him in front of the media and then set him up to fail. If I hadn’t gotten to the bottom of last night’s incident, who knows what would have happened to Max? And now she took credit for fixing the issue? It was so infuriating, I almost couldn’t stand it.

I read about twenty emails and then decided that my heart wasn’t in the game. I needed to cut out of work early. I was so tired I couldn’t see straight.

I started packing up when a knock sounded at the door. Max filled the doorway. No matter how many times I saw this man up close and in person, I never got used to how big he was. I could smell his intoxicating fresh scent from my desk, and I thought he looked hot with his freshly showered wet hair.

“What?” my tone cut.

He stepped into my office. “Are you heading home?”

“Thanks to you, I haven’t been home since last night, so I think I deserve to go home a few hours early. If that’s okay with you.” My voice was sharp. I knew my comment wasn’t fair, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

He tipped his head to the side. “You were here all night?”

“What do you want?”

“What did you want to talk about?”

Silence ticked between us while I dumped my wallet and keys into my bag.

“What’s going on?” Dad’s terse voice sounded from my office door. He trained his eyes on Max, who visibly stiffened under his gaze.

“We were talking about last night,” I swung my Louis Vuitton purse over my shoulder. “And I’m heading home.”

Dad rocked on his heels and crossed his arms. “Did Rory tell you everything she did for you last night?”

Max scratched the side of his neck. “We hadn’t gotten that far yet.”

I could tell that answer annoyed Dad. “Rory somehow managed to get her hands on the raw footage of your interview. Then she worked with our legal team to use that tape to gain some much needed leverage. She banned that reporter from this arena and by threatening to do the same to the station, they have issued a public apology. That reporter has dropped all charges against you and they have suspended him without pay all because of Rory’s hard work.”

It was anticlimactic that my father had to sing my praises. Especially after Katrina stole my thunder. I stepped from around my desk avoiding Max’s all-seeing eyes. “Just doing my job. Now if you’ll both excuse me, I’m heading home.”

I made it down to the Concord before I heard Max calling my name. “Rory.”

Ignoring him, I skipped down the steps towards the entrance.

He moved as fast off the ice as he did on it.

“Rory.”

His big hand grabbed my arm and held me until I stopped walking.

“What?”

Frustration marred his expression. “Why did you let me think Katrina fixed this?”

“I didn’t want to get into it with Katrina.”

He studied me. “You’re tired.”

His concern was almost too much to bear. For one terrible moment, I thought I might start to cry. I forced myself to steel my expression. “I need to go home.”

“Let me give you a ride.”

I shook my head. “Unnecessary.”

“Come on,” he walked with my arm still in his grasp. “I’m not taking no for an answer.”

I didn’t want to wait for a cab, and a small part of me, really wanted to be near Max.

“Fine,” I huffed, making it sound like I was doing him the favor.

His lips twitched. “You’re cute when you’re grumpy.”

HE DROVE a brand new black Lexus SUV.

“Where to?”

I gave him my address which he punched into his GPS. We crawled through the congested downtown traffic and pulled to a stop at a red light.

Max glanced over at me. “How are you?”

“Fine.”

His long fingers tapped on the steering wheel.

The question blurted out of me. “Do you ever think about the plane crash?”

He took his time answering. “Every day.”

“I don’t talk about it with anyone. They all ask about it, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Because no one understands.”

“Yeah.” I turned to him. “But you get it. You were there.”

He swallowed and stared out the windshield. “I have dreams about it.”

“Really? What do you dream?”

“I dream that we crash, I go to pick you up out of your seat but you’re not there and I can’t find you. And then I wake up.”

Max dreamed about me.

It sounded more like a nightmare, but it thrilled me that I was in it.

The shrill sound of his phone on blue tooth interrupts us. The screen on the dashboard said: Uncle Ronny Calling.

“I have to get this.” Max threw me a sidelong glance.

To give him some privacy, I focused my attention out the window.

“Ronny!”

“Hey, Kiddo. How ya doing?” A deep male voice boomed through the car.

“I’m good.”

“Saw your last game on TV. You’re on your game.”

“You’re my only fan, you have to say that.”

The man’s laughter filled the car. “This call has to be short and sweet since I’m on a break, but I wanted you to know that your mom’s car broke down last week.”

“Oh shit.”

“She’s taking the bus now, but I was wondering…”

“Anything. Buy her a new car and send me the bill.”

“She’ll know it’s from you.”

Max drew his hand over his mouth but didn’t speak.

“I thought maybe we could do a work around,” his uncle added.

“Anything.”

“You wire me the money. I’ll tell her that my mechanic friend owes me a favor and I’ll secretly pay the mechanic and get her back on the road.”

“That works. I’ll send you the money tonight.”

“I’ll make it happen.” Uncle Ronny cleared his throat. “So, are they treating you right out there?”

“Absolutely.”

“How about Baxter Nicols? I heard he’s tough on his players.”

“Nah,” Max lied. “He’s been great.”

My mind raced as I listened to his conversation. Why didn’t his Mom want his money? And why did they have to trick her into letting Max help her?

I listened as they joked around before the call ended. My insatiable curiosity about Max drove me to prod. “So, that was your uncle?”

“Yup. My mom’s brother.”

What about Max’s dad? Was he around?

“He sounds like he’s a good guy.”

“He’s the reason I’m here.”

“What do you mean?”

“My mom hates hockey, but he paid for my gear and drove me to my practices.”

Oh wow.

“Well, if he ever comes to a game, be sure to tell me so we can give him the royal treatment.”

“Thanks.”

I wracked my brain, trying to think about how I could ask him more about his mom without coming across as being snoopy.

He turned onto my street. I didn’t want this drive to end. I could never quite get enough of this guy.

He pulled up into the driveway and whistled under his breath as he took in the massive 8,000 square foot Greystone that was more mansion than house.

“Well, this is me,” I announced unnecessarily. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Rory,” his expression was hard to read. “Thanks for helping me out.”

I gave him a tired smile. “Last night wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have kept my cool.”

He lost his cool when the reporter threatened me. “Thanks for standing up for me.”

Anger flashed in his eyes. “That guy was out of control.”

“I’m reinstating the media ban. I don’t want you to talk to the media. When I think you’re ready, I want to set up an interview with a friendly reporter.”

“Yeah, sure.”

I watched him. He stared pensively out the front windshield. What was he thinking? What did he need? What was going on with his mom? Why couldn’t I get this guy out of my mind?

“I should go.”

His smile was tight. “Yeah. Thanks.”

He was thanking me? He drove me home. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Anytime.”

I climbed out of his vehicle and turned back to Max. Something passed between us. Without speaking, wishing that I could spend more time with him, I shut the door and moved to the house.

Max was off limits. I needed to remember that.