Page 72

“Well, if we’re selling it to the media, then we need to sell it to everyone. Right?”

I nod. “Right.”

“I don’t like that there’s doubt, and I wonder if it means we need to step up our game.”

“Cash, this literally happened three weeks ago. It’s fine. We’ll get there, and the more we push it, the more we’ll look like we’re trying to hide something.”

He nods, and I’m surprised when he pulls literally across the street into the parking lot of the practice facility.

“We’re here,” he says. There are no other cars here, so he takes the spot closest to the door. “I told you I wanted to show you a little bit more about me, and I thought, what better place to do that than the practice facility.”

A rush of excitement darts through me that he’s letting me into the most important part of his life. We get out of the truck, and he unlocks the door with a key. He flashes a keycard at another door, which magically opens for us, and we find ourselves in the lobby. From where I stand, I see multiple hallways and two ice rinks at the front of the building.

“There are four rinks here total,” he says. “The scheduler gave me access to rink one, which is where the Vengeance practices.”

“What are the other rinks for?” I ask.

“The other teams who practice here. The AHL and PWHL. Plus free skates and youth leagues.”

“AHL and PWHL?” I ask.

“American Hockey League and Professional Women’s Hockey League,” he clarifies.

I nod. “So if this is your practice facility, do you have your locker room and offices and all that kind of stuff here, like they do in the NFL?”

He nods. “It’s similar, but we can access it any time of the year for practice as long as it’s not rented out to someone else. They don’t typically rent out rink one, though, because they have to keep it in tip-top shape for us. The local players are always on it. West and I met here earlier today, actually. And I’m sure Nick and Alex will be on it with Kellan tomorrow. You want a tour?”

“Yeah, I’d love one,” I say.

He takes me around, showing me the gym, the offices, and the training rooms. He even shows me the Zamboni. We stop by the desk where skates are rented out.

“What size do you wear?” he asks.

“Seven,” I say. “You’re taking me out onto the ice?”

“Wouldn’t be a proper tour if we didn’t get out there.” He finds me a pair of skates in size seven and holds them up triumphantly.

We head to the locker room next, and we stop in front of one labeled Maddox 98. I take it all in, from the nameplate above it to the gear sitting inside it, most of which I’ve never seen before and have zero clue what it is or what it does.

I glance around the rest of the locker room, and it’s definitely different from the pro football locker rooms I’ve been in courtesy of my brothers, which makes sense since they use very different equipment. The practice facility here in Vegas that Dex showed me has gaming tables and leather couches and giant TV setups, like a home away from home for players, where this locker room seems to have a much more utilitarian setup.

Football players tend to practically live at the practice facilities in season, where I get the sense that hockey’s not quite the same.

“Sit and take off your shoes,” he says, nodding to the bench in his locker.

I follow the direction and slip off the Converse I wore for our date. He helps slide my skates onto my feet one at a time and then laces them up and ties them for me before he grabs the skates out of his own locker and pulls them on, sitting on the bench in the middle of the row while I remain in his locker.

He pulls some shield thing off the ends of his skates that mine don’t have, and then he holds out a hand, like I’m supposed to just stand up and start walking in these things.

I look at his outstretched hand and laugh. “How do you expect me to stand up in these things, let alone walk to the ice?”

He laughs. “Hold on to me, and I will get you there without falling.”

He nods to his outstretched hands, and I take them both in mine and then haul myself up to a stand.

“You’re like a baby giraffe just learning how to walk,” he says.

I giggle. “Shut up.”