“Are you sure about this, Tremblay?”
Coach Watson peers at me across her office desk while Camille scans her phone.
I take a deep breath, struggling with the weight of my decision even though I know it’s the right path. “I always knew this could be my last season. I’ve put a lot of thought into this, Coach.”
Coach Watson nods her Guardians cap. “You’re right. I’m sure you have. It couldn’t have been an easy choice.”
That’s like saying it’s easy to decide who to marry or when to have a child. “It wasn’t.”
Camille furrows her brows, and based on that look, I’m about to get a subtle guilt trip. “You know, I spent over two hours on the phone with the ¡Vamos! lawyers yesterday discussing the sponsorship for you, and nowhere did it say you have to be an active player. So, if you want, that’s still an option. Maybe for less money. I have put in a lot of time negotiating the terms for you.”
Called it. I lean back in my chair, considering. Camille gets a certain percentage of the total deal if I sign with ¡Vamos!, so if anything, I’ll do it for her.
“Thanks, Camille. I appreciate you negotiating that. Tell Andrea I’m in.”
Her shoulders slump in relief beneath her navy blazer, and she gives me a grateful smile. She pulls out her phone and starts firing off a message while I spend the next thirty minutes reviewing the terms of my contract with Coach Watson.
After shaking hands, I step out of Coach’s office and into the locker room, being careful not to tread on the Guardians logo etched into the floor. The clean scent of fresh jerseys mingles with the hint of hard-earned sweat. I inhale a deep breath, surveying the locker room. My eyes well up as I stare at the logo.
The weight of my decision to retire from the NHL finally sinks in, but it’s not dragging me down anymore. The memories of all those years on the ice flood my mind.
That second shower on the right is where I convinced Cruz we all went commando for home games. That bench in the middle is where Patty cried happy tears and told us he was a father. The exhilarating victories, the crushing defeats, the team, it’s all embedded in my DNA. I might be leaving the League, but hockey’s carved into my bones.
I glance up at the retired jerseys hanging from the rafters, and soon, my number Thirty will be dangling for everyone to see.
I can’t help but smile.
Sure, this is a tough decision, but as I stand here, surrounded by the echoes of my hockey career, I know that I’ve made the right choice. Now, all I have to do is tell the guys, and Nina. My palms start sweating.
“I fucking hate this!” Cruz shouts from somewhere in the locker room. “I think my balls have shriveled into raisins. Patty, can you check?”
I sniff, wiping at my eyes, and follow Cruz’s voice around the corner.
“I’m not inspecting your ballsack,” Patty says. “I already did that once when you had that yeast infection, and it was disgusting. Never again.”
I walk down the hallway to find Patty and Cruz sitting in the aluminum hydrotherapy tubs. Coach Watson recommends it a couple of times a week to soothe our aching muscles, but sitting in a fifty-degree tub is one of my least favorite recovery methods. That’s something I won’t miss.
“Hey, Tremblay! There you are,” Cruz shouts through chattering teeth. “We’ve been looking for you. Where you been? And why are your eyes all red?”
I shove my hands in my sweatpants pockets. “Just talking to Coach, and it’s allergies.”
Cruz scoots forward in the tub. “What did Coach say? You’re still good to play next season, right? We need you back in the net, old man.”
“Stop with the ‘old man’ shit,” Patty says.
“Never.”
I clear my throat, trying to keep it together and not lose it in front of them. The guys will be fine without me. “Yeah. All good. I’ll be good.”
Patty’s eyes narrow like he’s trying to decide if I’m bluffing, but I’ve got a plan for telling them and it’s not happening while they’re soaking in an ice bath. “Want to come in this torture chamber with us, Tremblay? One last time?”
I’m not sure if that phrasing was intentional, so I wave a hand. “I better head home. Got to get back to my girl.”
Cruz laughs. “Oh, so Phil’s your girl now, huh? I fucking called it day one.”
“Yeah, she always has been. Just took me a while to see it.” Snatching my bag, I leave the locker room behind, my heart set on one destination—wherever Nina is, my home.
I open the door to my apartment, almost tripping on Nina’s running shoes by the door. I spot my skates right next to hers, and warmth bursts through my chest.
Her jean jacket hangs off the couch, a couple of dishes wait in the sink, and one of her vases is on the kitchen table next to some treats for Chicken. My apartment might be messier than normal, but it doesn’t feel like a hockey museum anymore.
It’s got all the clutter of a home.
Coming back to her sleeping in my bed every night has made these past few weeks bearable. It’s hard to hide things from Nina because she can sense something’s wrong, but instead of bombarding me with questions like the media, she simply holds me in her arms every night.
That’s all I want.
Knowing she’s there to listen if I need her is enough. This decision needs to be mine, and I don’t want her to think I’m making this choice for her. That’s too much pressure for anyone.
I scratch Chicken’s ear as I head into my bedroom. Steam billows out from my bathroom, and I bet Nina’s in there. Ever since she discovered I have jets that shoot water from the walls, she refuses to shower anywhere else.
I knock on the bathroom door. “Nina, you in there?”
“Are you expecting some other woman to be in your shower?” she calls out. “Because if that’s the case, we’re about to have a big fight, so I’d put on your helmet.”
Laughing, I step into the bathroom. “I love y—that you always say what’s on your mind.”
My back tenses. Shit. I almost did it again.
I snap my jaw shut before I do something crazy, like tell her I love her while she’s showering. I’m so close to blurting it out all the time.
I almost said it the other day when she made me a smoothie, but I’ve never said it to a woman other than my mom or sister, so I want it to be the right moment.
I stride up to my black tile walk-in shower. She’s a soapy, naked mess, standing under the stream of hot water. Nina’s rubbing her hands all over her wet body, and I get hard in an instant. “There’s no one else. It’s only you for me.”
Her mouth spreads into that beautiful smile I love, but it falls a second later. She’s been doing that a lot, smiling, then frowning, smiling, then frowning.
With a shake of her head, she pulls me forward by the rim of my joggers. “Take off your clothes and come in with me. I want you wet and naked.”
“Okay, but I’m kissing you first.” Bracing my good arm on the black tile behind her, I step under the stream of water, clothes and all, dip my chin, and kiss the hell out of my girl.
Hot water falls down around us, making my lips slide over hers with ease. Now that I know what it’s like to kiss her, I always want more. I push her back against the wall, cradling the back of her head so she doesn’t hit the hard tile.
Her tongue slips into my mouth, and she lets out one of her breathy moans that I love. I love that noise. I love her.
Fuck, I hope she loves me too.
I soak up the sound, gripping her ass to pull her closer, so she’s rubbing up against my dick. I can’t get enough of this girl, but I have to talk to her, so with a heavy breath, I pry my lips from hers and step back.
Nina pouts. “I wasn’t done kissing you.”
That makes me want to kiss her again. “I know, but there’s something I want to talk to you about, but first, can you help me take off these clothes?”
“I will gladly get you naked. You don’t have to ask me twice.”
Nina helps me strip out of my wet clothes, and I forget that I have to talk to her when she starts stroking my hard dick with her soapy hand, but I force myself to focus.
Leaning back, I pump some shampoo into my good hand and start washing her hair, but then she pulls forward out of my grasp.
“No, Rhode, you shouldn’t be doing that with your shoulder. You’re supposed to be resting.”
“My shoulder is fine. I can wash your hair.”
She leans her head against my chest, and it’s these small moments that are my favorite thing about us. The moments no one else gets to witness.
I massage her hair with my good arm. “So, I was talking to my coach today.”
“About what?” She grins up at me from under my chin. “Is your shoulder getting better?”
She sounds hopeful, and that makes me fall for her a little harder. I kiss the top of her wet hair. “Yes, but that’s not what I wanted to talk about. It was about something else…”
“That sounds ominous. What is it?”
I take a deep breath, struggling to gather the courage to tell her. I stare at the black-tiled wall, unable to meet her questioning gaze. “I don’t think I’m going to renew my contract, or be a free agent with another team, so this would be the end for me.”
“The end of what?”
I blow out a heavy breath. “My hockey career.”
She doesn’t say anything, so I tug her damp hair back, forcing her to look up at me. “Nina?”
She blinks slowly as she takes in my words and then lurches forward out of my grasp, the water splashing off her skin as she strides out of my shower.
She grabs a towel and wraps it around herself like a shield. “You’re not retiring, Rhode. I’m not letting you give up your dream. You’re going to rehab and play next season. That’s what you wanted. This isn’t the end for you.”
I follow her out of the shower, reaching for my own towel, but Nina hands me one. “That’s what I thought I wanted.”
“What do you mean?”
“This isn’t my dream anymore, Nina. It’s not what I want. My body’s falling apart, and I’m exhausted. I don’t want to be chasing around my kids in my forties with knee braces. Hell, I don’t even think I want kids right now. I want more time to figure out my next move. You’re the one who showed me that.”
“What about the sponsorship?” She throws out her hands, raising her voice. “You’re giving up everything you said you wanted. A family. Hockey. Everything!”
There’s an intensity in her gaze that has me second-guessing what she’s feeling. I thought she’d be happy we have time now. I’m not doing this for her, but I hoped she’d be in my life even after hockey.
“¡Vamos! is still willing to sponsor me even if I’m retired, and I just want some peace. There’s still time for a family. I can’t remember the last time I skated for fun.”
She paces back and forth, leaving a trail of water on the tiled floor as she thinks. She walks and walks and walks until finally, she stops. She flings herself across the room and wraps her arms around my neck. I catch her wet body in the embrace.
“You can’t retire because I love watching you play hockey,” she says into my chest. She fits so well there. “I don’t want you to give up your dream for me, so promise you won’t. Please? We can figure something else out together when I come back from Argentina. Don’t do this for me.”
I love her unwavering support, but this isn’t her decision. It’s mine, and no matter what, I know it’s the right one. “Okay, I promise I won’t retire for you.”
I’ll do it for me.
