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Smiling proudly, Stephanie tilted back her chair and spun around. “I can do a few different tricks,” she beamed.
“That’s so cool,” Mia sang. “Hey, can Steph and I walk ahead while you guys grab the rest?”
“Yeah, go ahead,” mom said, waving them off.
“I’ll see you down there,” I called after them, but I was sure they didn’t hear a word of it. They were too busy talking amongst themselves.
“She seems like asweet girl,”my mom said, expressing her approval.
“Ah, excuse me. Mr. Petersen?” someone spoke up.
Unaware I’d been so caught up in my thoughts, I pushed the memory aside.
“My name’s Bradley Donovan, and you already know Doctor Copeland. Coach Wayward sent us to assist you,” he explains, extending his hand. “Nice to you,” he said, his Scottish accent prominent.
Shaking both their hands, I greeted Dr. Copeland first. “How’s it going, Seth?” To Bradley, I said.“I understand why Seth is here. No disrespect, but why do I need a coordinator for this retreat, anyway? Aren’t I on vacation?”
“You are, but Coach Wayward and the team executives want to use as much free press as they can get for as long as they have you,” Bradley explained.
Deciding to leave hockey wasn’t a simple decision for me to make, but learning there was a possibility that I could have more outside of the team really got me thinking about what I wanted in life and these days a hockey career wasn’t the priority.
I guess it wouldn’t hurt to work with him. After all, I only have another month with the team.
“So, what is it I have to do?”
He raised his brow in question. “Do?”
“What social media stunt do they want me to do this time?”
“No stunts. Just planned content that’s safe for you and the team to use.”
It was my turn to arch my brow. “Safe content?”
“Yes, Mr. Petersen. Anything you post is a reflection on the team. Therefore, your posts need to be pre-approved.”
And here I thought I might have fun on this trip.
“Look, I didn’t come on this cruise to work, aside from the events arranged by my agent. I thought this was downtime.”
“It is, and you are.”
Accepting the situation for what it was, I figured having him along might not be as bad as I was making it out to be. “This doesn’t mean we’re sharing a room, does it?”
“No, sir, the team executives have arranged for separate accommodations for the three of us.”
“Good. So try not to act too corporate while we’re here, eh? Cruises are all about fun.”
“Got it, Mr. Petersen.”
“And Bradley, from here on out, address me as Logan,” I advised as we boarded the elevator that would take us to our deck.
Knowing I was finally aboard the same ship as Stephanie, I was eager to run into her again. Pressing the level E button, Bradley, Seth, and I rode in silence. Allowing my thoughts to briefly wander back to a time when Stephanie and I were younger and impressionable. I was too eager to please my coach, my father, my friends, and Opa, who all wanted me to have a successful hockey career. I wanted it too. I was also too protective of my pride, enjoying all the attention, instead of seeing the girl who was always there for me before I was a big shot. I always had fun with Stephanie. We could talk about anything or nothing at all and still enjoy each other’s company. She was the one who got me through the hard stuff; I was the one who made sure nobody messed with her, but underneath it all, we were the best of friends. I was the jock who hung out with the team, dated the popular girls, and flirted with them all, but it was Stephanie I dreamed about at night. I let her go because it was too painful to keep in touch. She made me homesick, homesick for her. My heart ached a little too much each time we had to say goodbye. I was afraid I’d give up my future in hockey and come back to be with her. I had too many people relying on me to make it big. Truth be told, I was stupid to not have kept in touch with Stephanie for all this time. Even after nine years, there’s still this magnetic pull that draws me closer to her whenever we are near. Why the hell I hadn’t sought her out after Opa passed was beyond me.
Taking me away from my thoughts, I felt the elevator speed change as we arrived on our deck.
“Ah, Mr. Petersen, it’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Klaus,” a man dressed in the ship’s stark white uniform extended his hand. Noting another accent, I couldn’t place its origin.
“Nice to meet you,” I replied, firmly shaking his hand.
