Page 109 of Saddle Storm

News must travel slow to whatever hellhole he crawled under, because I know exactly why he’s reached out now.

Misery loves company.

And Jasper Hayes has always been miserable about my success. After his dreams died, he latched on to mine. Now that I’m injured and speculations about my return are booming, he’s intrigued.

Well, I’m not interested in his gloating or backhanded words of, Well, you had a nice run, what’s next for Blue River’s golden boy?

Just like I wasn’t interested in the dumb party he threw for me ten years ago like I was some hometown legend. One I only considered making an appearance at because he’d promised he’d get Storm there. Somehow he always knew she was special to me. Probably since the first time I leveled the guy in the locker room for calling her “horse girl.” A name that quickly died down after that. Something about it always sat weird with me. Like he wasn’t celebrating me so much as mourning the version of himself he thought he’d become.

Heaven knows why I stayed friends with him after that. Suppose because it made sense. We were both jocks. Our families well known in town. Mine had the biggest ranch, his practically monopolized real estate in our town.

Jasper and I defined the “in” crowd. We didn’t join one, we were it. He played on the school’s football team, while I was involved in the region’s hockey league and travel team. I went on to get a scholarship and NHL prospect almost immediately. He was injured senior year and his full scholarship offer was pulled.

After that, there was a bitterness in our friendship and we eventually lost touch.

I make a mental note to reach back out at some point and set my phone away, wanting nothing to mess with the picture in my head.

We’re playing Texas today. It’s only first period and the game is already tilting the wrong way. Missed coverage. Two penalties—both the Denver Kings, and it’s getting physical out there early.

It’s like we’re chasing instead of dictating. My stomach tightens every time the puck clears our zone—most of which I could’ve easily prevented. I stand shoulder to shoulder with Coach, suit stiff against my body, hands shoved in my pockets so I don’t accidentally air a pass with an invisible stick. Coach mutters under his breath when we give up another rush and I agree with him. Edwards’s timing was off. I can see from where I stand Chase is pissed too and our team is hearing it.

Jeffrey, one of the owners, glances at me. He doesn’t have to say it. I know what I give them—speed, sight, the ability to score without chaos—except for that one time.

Hence why I’m watching tonight’s disaster.

By the second period, Jeff’s no longer quiet, eyes hard, jaw set as the clock keeps bleeding down. “Thorne. Think you’re ready?” he asks, like it’s casual.

I don’t hesitate. “Just need those tests moved up.” The words come out clean, certain, with a single glance at Coach, who’s been too concerned about my getting back in the game. I’ve been back on the ice, suited even, since I was cleared. But no contact, no sticks. No goddamn point.

Jeff watches the ice for another beat, then nods at Coach. “Move them up. I don’t want to waste another minute.” His gaze cuts to me. “We need you out there.”

Coach turns to me. “I’ll make the calls. We’ll catch up tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Coach.”

He holds my gaze. “But you better be ready. He’s right. We need you. But I’m not messing with your recovery for one second too soon.”

I nod. “I wouldn’t take that risk again, sir.”

Satisfied with my honest answer, he turns back to the game. And for the first time in weeks, I see myself in it.

It was a long game, whistles dragging it out far past where it should’ve ended. I drag a hand through my hair when I leave Coach’s office. The game was brutal enough that I feel the exhaustion in my bones. As if I were out there tonight.

The boys are all out in the hall outside the locker room, fans with passes loud and restless behind the black rope.

Chase offered me a ride back to town tonight, since he and Pepper are heading to their cottage in Hideaway Springs, but I don’t see him out here, so I decide to wait for him in the parking lot. On my way out, I fist bump a few of my teammates who look like they’ve seen better days.

I’m still in my suit, but I’ve ditched the tie and a few buttons along my shirt as I head down the long hall.

“Silas.”

For a second I feel like I’m imagining the little voice, but when I turn, he’s very real.

I catch Max in my arms as he races to me. My smile nearly impossible. Storm’s grin is wide, eyes glimmering as she catches up. “Going somewhere, hotshot?”

I glance behind her. “How’d you—I thought you were home.”

“We were, but you weren’t getting any camera time and the game was rough to watch so I hopped in your car and drove us over here . . . Pepper let us in.” She scrunches her nose. “I figured you could use some cheering up.”