Offside (49 page)

“I think you’re gonna be surprised, Doc.” Scott smiled, pretty confident that all his time at the gym would pay off. He stopped by Hunt’s side before the boy could walk out. “Hey, you wanna wait for me? Thought we could chill for a bit.”

Hunt shrugged. “Guess so. We’re off until one, right?”

“Right.” That settled, Scott climbed on the bike. The thing to measure his oxygen intake was stuffed in his mouth and a padded clamp pinched his nose closed. Once the other monitors were set up, the research director told him to get started, reminding him to keep the pace at 80 RPM. Scott pumped his legs hard, muscles burning as he fought to keep the reps up. His eyes squinted as moisture dripped into them from his forehead.

“Keep going. Don’t ease up now, Demyan,” Doc said.

His thighs were nothing but bone and wet flesh encasing pulsing flames. He grunted as he forced himself not to slow down just to lessen the heat. Then the resistance on the bike was increased.

“Bring it up to 80. Push it!” The director instructed.

Fire and pain and nothing but a blind need to reach the goal. Scott stared at the monitor in front of him.
76, 78, 73, 75 . . . 80! Go, go, go!

The agony in his muscles dissolved and a rush of pure energy took over. Scott felt like he could keep going forever. Then like he
had
been doing this forever. That burst of energy burned out and he huffed into the tube as his lungs seared in his chest.

83, 79, 73, 65 . . . Fuck!

“All right, slow it down.” Doc removed the tube and the clamp. “Not bad, Mr. Demyan. Nine minutes. Do you smoke?”

Scott panted as he leaned his forearms on the bike’s handlebars. It took him a while to get enough air to speak. “Not usually. I might have once or twice this summer.”

“Hmm.” Doc went over the report with the other two experts quietly, then brought Scott a bottle of water. “You’re in decent shape, but I’d like you to work on your cardio. Morning runs, time on the bike, whatever you can do for at least an hour, pushing yourself harder at intervals of about ten minutes. The trainer may have more suggestions for you, but in any case, you’re going to have a hard time lasting for a thirty second shift. We don’t want you getting tired out there.”

“No, sir.” Scott did his best to climb off the bike without falling and making himself look even
more
pathetic. His legs were shaking, but he made it to the door and out of sight of the doctor before he needed something solid to hold him up.

“Damn, did you sleep all summer?” Hunt finished off his water and tossed the empty bottle into the big metal trash can against the wall. “My dad would kill me if I did that bad on the test.”

“Yeah, well fuck you, Hunt.” Scott grinned so Hunt would know he was joking. “I ain’t got anyone on my ass, so I’ve got nothing to worry about. I passed.”

“Barely.” Hunt led the way toward the locker room, lowing his voice as he paused in front of the closed door. “Your boyfriend won’t be mad? I mean, he made the twelve-minute mark and he smokes
cigars
.”

Scott winced, both because Zach might be disappointed, and because Hunt shouldn’t know enough to bring up “his boyfriend”. “Hey, Zach and me aren’t what you—”

“Fuck, I’m not gonna tell no one. Honestly, I don’t think the people that know give a shit, and most aren’t paying enough attention to have figured it out. You’re fine.” Inside the locker room, Hunt put on a clean T-shirt. The room was empty, which seemed to put him at ease. He wasn’t usually this talkative. “I run if you want to tag along. I mean . . .” He ducked his head. “I could help you.”

“Sure.” Scott changed his own soaked shirt for a fresh one, then grabbed his wallet. “Where you staying?”

“Just a few blocks away—with Olsson.”

Olsson? Damn, the man doesn’t even speak English!
Scott studied Hunt as they made their way up the stairs to the main floor. “There’s no one else for you to stay with?”

“White, but he’s a jerk.” Hunt shrugged. “Me and Olsson get along pretty good. Stay out of each other’s way.”

“Got it.” Scott stepped out on to the sidewalk, inhaling deeply, positive his lungs were writing him thank you cards as they spoke. The air was nice and crisp, a little on the cool side. Perfect. “So . . . about you flipping out on the ice—”

“Don’t fucking lecture me, man. It was stupid. Won’t happen again.” Hunt’s strides widened, forcing Scott to ignore the ache in his thighs and quicken his pace to keep up. “You’re the last person who should be telling me how to act.”

“True.” Scott reached Hunt’s side just as he hit the lights. Thank God, they were red. “But I’m working on it. You’re starting out, kid. They don’t have to like you, but with how hard you’re working, they should respect you.”

“I don’t fit into their little clubs.” Hunt scowled. “And I don’t want to.”

“Fine, but you really want to let them see you all messed up? You’re physically tough. You want to make it in the league?” Scott liked that Hunt’s scowl faded, that his expression turned thoughtful as he nodded. The kid was smart. And finally ready to listen. Scott tapped the center of his forehead with a finger. “You gotta be just as tough up here. You don’t wanna make friends on the team, then don’t. But we’ve got to trust that you’re not gonna freak if a bad bounce gets past you. We. Need. You.”

“You’ve got Ingerslov.”

“Seriously?” Scott rolled his eyes. “Ingerslov is a great guy, but we know—hell,
he
knows—he’s not a starting goaltender. You are.”

Hunt nodded slowly. Then he frowned. “Hey, why are you being so nice to me? I messed with your girl and—”

“She’s not my girl. She is a friend, but I know you tried to make things right. You paid for what you pulled, so me and you are good.”

“Okay . . .” Hunt said, hesitating before he continued. “Still. You’ve got enough shit to deal with.”

“Buddy, I’m not all that complicated. The game is one of the few things in my life that makes sense. I want this team to make it, even if half the guys act like arrogant pricks and the other half wants to be just like them. With a few exceptions.”
Zach.
Scott took a deep breath as his face heated. Even a brief thought of Zach was enough to trip him up. He wondered if Zach would be okay with him spending the night again. He’d said they’d have to cool it a bit when the season started—Scott should be spending time with his “girlfriend”—but the season hadn’t started yet, so . . . “Anyway, Lord Stanley is end game. We ain’t gonna get our hands on him without someone solid between the pipes. That’s you.”

“But Bower—”

“Won’t be back until what, January? If that?” Scott shook his head. “This is all on you, kid. You up to it?”

Hunt squared his shoulders. Inhaled. Then inclined his head. “Damn right, I am.”

“Good.” Scott stopped in front of the Tim Horton’s, shoving the door open. “We better hurry.”

“Timmy’s?” Hunt scrunched up his face. “Dude, I don’t do coffee and donuts.”

“
Dude!
” Scott repeated in a mocking tone. This kid was too much. “They serve fucking salads. Suck it up.”

They ordered, found a table, then ate in companionable silence. Hunt checked his phone a few times when it buzzed, clicking ignore. He polished off two salads with chicken strips and no dressing.

Crazy rookie.

Scott finished his panini, then downed the last of his iced cappuccino. He gestured to Hunt with the empty cup. “It was cool, hanging out with you. Wanna go for a beer sometime after camp?”

Hunt considered for a moment, looking embarrassed when he answered. “Demyan, you’re—you’re a great guy.” He paused. “But I’m straight.”

After he’d managed to stop laughing, Scott slapped Hunt’s shoulder. “I won’t hold it against you, sport. Straight guys drink, don’t they?”

“Yeah . . . but . . .” Hunt groaned as his phone buzzed again. “It’s my dad. He’s gonna flip if I keep ignoring his calls.” He stood. “Catch you back at the forum?”

“Sure thing.” Scott waved Hunt off, then looked down at his chocolate-glazed donut. Hell, he loved snacking on sweet stuff, but he’d gained seven pounds in the off-season despite all the workouts. He wasn’t going to start stocking his fridge with greens, but cutting back on junk food might help.

A hand with long, graceful fingers, manicured nails painted a subtle pink, appeared in front of him, stealing his donut. His head shot up and the sight of Becky smiling at him was like a punch in the gut with a fistful of lust.

“I was privy to your test results. I figured it would be charitable of me to remove temptations.” She took a big bite of the donut and made an appreciative sound in the back of her throat. “Oh, this is good.”

“You’re horrible.” He chuckled as she took the seat across from him, licking chocolate glaze from her lips. The gesture was damn sexy, but his blood cooled as he thought of Zach. Of how shitty Becky had treated him. Sitting around joking with her just felt wrong. He moved to stand. “I’ll let you finish that.”

“Scott, please don’t go.” Becky set the rest of the donut on a napkin by a tray holding four cups of coffee. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “I . . . uh . . . saw you with Dave Hunt on my way here. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but I heard everything you said to him. He needed that.”

“Yeah, well . . .” Scott didn’t want to care what she thought. She’d hurt Zach, and the worst thing was that at the sight of her, he’d almost forgotten all about how bad it had been. She looked so fucking beautiful in her white suit, her rich mahogany hair pulled away from her face in a fancy bun. He usually liked his women fast and loose, but this was Becky. She’d managed to do more than get under his skin. Try cracking his ribs open to reach straight into his heart. But Zach was there too. So Scott kept his tone carefully neutral. “I do what I’ve gotta do.”

Becky sat back, her gaze fixed steady on his face. “You’re mad at me.”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“Because I’d be mad at you if you treated Zach the way I have.”

“How’s that?”

“Damn it, Scott!” Becky’s eyes glistened as she pushed away from the table and stood. “Never mind. You don’t want to talk to me, fine. But just say so. I can’t handle you being all cold. I wanted to tell you I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to say what I did—”

Whoa. What?
“To me? What did you say to me that you need to be sorry about?”

“You’re not a snack. That’s what I wanted you to be. Because I’m afraid of the competition. You’re so much easier for him to love.”

“When is love ever easy? Should it be?” Scott had to clamp his lips shut to keep any more shocked words from coming out. Becky considered him competition? Was she crazy? “If anyone should feel threatened, it’s me. All you have to do is tell Zach how sorry you really are. That you’ll be his good little sub. That you were scared and that I’m a problem for the two of you.” His throat tightened. He took her hands in his. “He’ll choose you. No fucking doubt about it.”

“Don’t do that, Scott. Don’t try to make how he feels about you into something that can be thrown away.” She hunched her shoulders and stared at the table. “It’s real.”

He sat back and let out a bitter laugh. He knew how this would end. If she wanted Zach back, she’d have him. “He has to decide between us.”

“Does he?”

“Not from my end.” Scott placed his hands on the table, palms down. He wouldn’t fight her on this. He knew how she felt about Zach. How Zach felt about her. He wouldn’t complicate things by sticking himself in the middle. “I get it. Zach is everything you need, so long as he can let me go. I can make him.” He couldn’t look at her as he spoke. It killed him just to say the words. “I will, because it’s what’s best. For both of you.”

Becky stood and picked up the coffee tray. “I have to go, but you need to think about what you’re saying. I pushed you toward Zach because I knew there was something between you two. He gave in
only
because he knows there’s something between you and I. I made a mess of everything, but that changes nothing.”

Scott frowned. “How do you figure?”

“Scott, you’re not a snack. It was despicable for me to put that label on you. You’ve worked so hard to make yourself into a better player. A better
person.
And I undermined that.” She turned her hand to hold his. “I’m disgusted with myself for what I said to you. But I’m asking . . . I’m
begging
for another chance. I have no idea how this is going to work. But . . .”

“You want it to?”

Her grip tightened on the edges of the cardboard tray. She gave a sharp nod. “Yes.”

“Good enough for me.” The pressure on his chest diminished. He didn’t have to let Zach go. And he had a shot with a woman he couldn’t forget, no matter how hard he tried. It was like a goal in overtime of game seven of the first round in the playoffs. Enough to stop his heart and get him thinking about the impossible. The unbelievable. But even after that goal, there were still a ton of challenges to face. To overcome. And he, Becky, and Zach would be dealing with no less. “You need to tell him all this. It won’t be easy.”

“I know.” Becky pulled herself up straight, looking like she could take on the hardest check from the biggest man in the league and not even spill the coffees she held. “I left him a note. I hope you’re there when he reads it. He’ll need someone who gets what’s going on. Someone who can support him whether or not he decides to put up with me being a head case.”

“You’re not a head case, Becky. You’re a mom and you married an asshole.”

Scott suddenly understood why this sweet woman struggled so much with a relationship that should be so perfect. And the understanding came like a wrecking ball crashing right into the center of his chest. If Becky felt like she had to make a choice, Casey would always come first. Which was good. That precious little girl had all the love she needed. And it didn’t cost her a thing. Shouldn’t. Because Casey was a good kid. Not like he’d been.

But this wasn’t about him.

“Casey’s birthday is in October, right?” His tongue ran over his teeth. “I got her something.”

Becky stared at him. “You did? Why?”