AllFreeNovel
Share Us
There was only one: Zach Renshaw.
Was this invading his privacy? Was this weird?
Ignoring better judgement, I clicked on his profile, scanning through his information, his mom’s, and stopped at the registration tab.
Power Play had supported Zach for eleven consecutive seasons. From the time he was five until he was sixteen and on a AAA team. The final season that Zach’s mother applied, he wasn’t placed. I clicked in on that season to see why, and there was a note that readdrafted by the NAHL.
CHAPTER8
ZACH
“Damn it, damn it, damn it!”I hissed to myself, scrambling to get dressed after a practice that went on for far too goddamn long, thanks to Coach feeling the need to correct everything any player did.
We were stopping and starting scrimmage more than we were actually playing.
It would take me twenty minutes to get to the café I was meeting Jessa at, and that was without traffic.
It was ten to one.
I yanked my phone out of my pocket and typed out a quick message to Jessa.
Me
Please don’t leave! Practice ran late, which means I’m not there waiting for you. Don’t order anything. I’ll be there as soon as I can.
“Where are you off to in such a rush?” Anders questioned with a cheeky grin.
“Meeting Jessa.”
“Oh,” he teased, poking at my stomach as I tried to tug on a shirt. “Are you even going to brush your hair, Z?”
“Go away,” I grumbled and ran a hand through my damp waves, hoping they would figure themselves out as I drove. “I’m already late.”
“Not a good way to start off a first date.”
“It’s not a…” I began, but I stopped.
Technically, itwasa date. An interview date. A success story date.
I was heading toward a date with Jessa, looking and acting feral, with soaking wet hair.
“Have fun, Z,” Anders chuckled, and shoved at my good shoulder.
I found my keys and jogged out of the dressing room, down the hall, and through the steel doors.
There was no cranky old man to yell at me in the parking lot. He didn’t show. I had checked a few times, sneakily peering around when I had the chance to see if he had the gall to still come and berate me about how I played.
He would have been royally pissed off having to watch practice today, with all the stopping and starting on top of critiques from Coach. I didn’t know what was up his ass today, but Coach rode all of us hard.
Traffic was nauseatingly slow, but twenty-five minutes later, I was guided by my car’s navigation system to Crimson Café. I parked next to Jessa, thankful she was still here, and leapt out of the car.
Yanking open the door, I scanned the space, grinning when I found her pretending not to look my way. She was sitting in a warm brown leather chair near a fake fireplace, and the seat opposite her had been saved for me by her black purse.
I went to the counter first, ordering her green tea and two lemon scones, and I got myself a coffee. They plated the scones and passed our drinks to me in fancy mismatched mugs.
Carefully carrying the ungodly hot drinks toward where Jessa sat, I placed everything on the table that separated us.
I was at a complete loss for words as I straightened and stared at her. She wore a dusty gray skirt with a silky white shirt tucked into it. Her hair was down and hiding her gorgeous face from me, but this woman magically became more beautiful each time I saw her.
