“What if she does want to go?” Maddison pulls out of the private parking lot, heading home.
“She doesn’t.” Shaking my head in disbelief, I stare out the passenger window. “There’s no way in hell she wants to leave her brother or the shelter. This is my fault. She doesn’t want to go. She just wants to get away from me.”
Maddison barely parks before I’m out of his truck and running into his building. I don’t use his elevator, of course, because I’m not going to his apartment. Stopping a few floors below the penthouse, I quickly knock on Stevie’s door.
She doesn’t answer, but it’s after two in the morning, so no surprise there. I call. No answer. I text. No answer. She’s going to hate me, but I need to see her. I’ve been counting down the minutes since we took off from Chicago when I found out she wasn’t on board.
I continue to knock, trying not to pound on the wooden barrier, but fuck am I tempted.
“Go away,” I hear from the other side, but it’s not Stevie’s voice.
“Ryan, open the door.”
“Fuck you.”
Okay, I deserve that.
I don’t leave. I stay standing, waiting, allowing him to look at me through the peephole until finally, he cracks the door open.
“Zanders, fuck you. Go home.”
“Please, just let me see her.” My tone is frantic, pleading.
“She’s not here.” He tries to close the door on me, but I use my arm to block it from shutting completely.
My eyes are boring into his, begging for some information. Ryan must feel bad for me or something because he gives me a once-over before letting out a resigned breath and opening the door.
“She’s still in Seattle.”
Still? It’s been days. “When is she back?”
“I don’t know. A couple of days, but it’s not your concern anymore.”
“Yes, it is!” My voice is much too loud for this early hour. “This is all my fault.”
“Well, at least you’re right about that. I’m going to bed, so you can leave now.”
I put my arm in the way of the door once again. “What can I do to fix it? I know you don’t want her moving there any more than I do, so please, Ryan. What the fuck do I do?”
He contemplates, looking me up and down, probably wondering if he should willingly help the man who broke his sister’s heart. But finally, his shoulders slack, giving in.
“She’s gone through life believing she’s the second choice, and you go ahead and reaffirm that by choosing your fucking playboy persona over her? What the fuck is that?” His voice begins to rise with anger. “She hated the limelight when it came to me but was willingly going to live in it because she wanted to be with you, and you break up with her the moment anyone learns about her? Come on, man. Don’t be so dense. That was fucked up. And now she’s about to move two thousand miles away because of you.”
“You encouraged her to go!”
“You didn’t see her that day! I just wanted her to feel better, but even though she’s acting like she’s okay, she’s not. Your playboy bullshit was more important than her, so you can go ahead and fucking fix it.”
He’s right. I can be mad all I want that Ryan suggested she move, but at the end of the day, I caused this. We were happy, and I ruined it.
“I fired my agent.”
His head jerks back. “What?”
“I was tired of playing into it. You’re right. I did choose my image over your sister. I fucked up, and lost her, so I fired my agent.”
“Aren’t you in a resigning season?” His brows are creased with confusion. “You’re throwing your career away.”
He doesn’t need to remind me. I already know.
“No one wants you to lose your career over this, Zanders.”
I pop my shoulders in a shrug, trying to remain as casual as I can. My career isn’t at the top of my priority list to fix right now.
“Jesus,” he releases a startled laugh. “You really do love her.” Ryan closes the door on me, but before it’s completely shut, I hear him say, “You should probably figure out a way to tell her that before it’s too late.”
The atmosphere is nuts for game three of the Stanley Cup Finals. The United Center is packed, every seat and standing-room ticket sold. We were down 3-2 coming into the third period, but Maddison scored early, and one of our rookie wingers pulled off a miracle of a shot, giving us the one-goal advantage and a three-game series lead.
As the final seconds wind down, I can’t help but feel overwhelmingly emotional.
This city has been everything to me over the last seven seasons. Sure, I had to play into a character I didn’t want to be, but overall, the time I spent in a Raptors jersey has been the best of my life. This is the first and only organization I’ve played for. My best friend landed here shortly after I did, putting us on the same team for the first time in our lives. I’ve built a family here, a home, and potentially after tonight, I only have one more game in this building.
I don’t want to count a win before it happens, but it’s hard to believe we won’t clinch the series in game four when we’re playing in our own arena. The way we’ve been communicating, scoring, our goaltending. Home-ice advantage. In my gut, it’s going to happen with a series sweep. I know it.
Home games were a disadvantage to me only months ago, being in this building and knowing I didn’t have anyone here for me. On the road, at least I knew no one else had their fan base cheering them on or waiting for them to come out of the locker room. But here, it’s a constant reminder that I’m alone.
That is until Stevie started coming to watch me play earlier this season. Knowing she was in the crowd or hiding away, waiting for me to come out suited up after our games, did something to my confidence. I had someone to play for that wasn’t just me. The boost I got from being the hated visitor was nothing compared to the love I felt at home games with my person.
But I’m alone again. The ticket I left for Stevie never got picked up, and the only family here for me isn’t mine at all. It’s Maddison’s.
I close Coach’s office door behind me before making my way back to my locker stall.
“Everything good?” Maddison asks from the locker next to mine.
“Yeah, but I’m not going to be at practice tomorrow. I got the okay to skip.”
“Zee, we’re one game away from potentially winning it all. What the fuck do you mean you won’t be at practice tomorrow?”
I dump my used jersey into the bin sitting in the center of the locker room before leaving my skates in my stall to get sharpened.
“I have something more important I need to do.” Finally, I make eye contact with my best friend, as he stares at me dumbfounded. “Trust me. It’s going to prepare me for this game more than any practice ever could.”