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She could almost hear Hunter’s heart fall into his shiny shoes with a thud as his so-called ally cut him down with a few cruel words. The hand of friendship fell slowly to his side, the pain of rejection chiselled into his furrowed forehead. Her previous disparaging comments aside, she kind of felt sorry for him. His past misdemeanours were always going to be thrown back in his face regardless of his subsequent achievements and acts of repentance.
‘There’s really no need for that, Gray.’ She put herself in Hunter’s position for the first time and thought how it might feel to have someone cast up the naivety of her youth. Horrendous. Soul-destroying. Unfair.
She’d spent a lifetime distancing herself from that person and if he was to be believed, so had Hunter. Switching careers from hockey pro to qualified sports therapist wasn’t something that would’ve happened on a whim. It would’ve taken years of dedication and determination. All of which was being cast aside as if it was nothing because someone was in a bad mood. Or because someone was deflecting the shame of their own past.
Gray held his hand up to stop her. ‘It goes for you too, Charlie. Fair or not, I need results. I’m sure you can come up with a diagnosis and treatment plan between the two of you. After all, that’s what you’re here for.’ With that, he spun on his heel and powered towards the changing room.
She lifted an abandoned puck from the ground and tossed it in her hand, tempted to lob it in his general direction. Two could let temper get the better of them.
Hunter caught it in mid-air. ‘You don’t want to do anything you might live to regret, Charlotte.’ That serious face said he was speaking from painful experience. One he’d never be allowed to forget.
She let her aggression subside with a sigh, partly due to his voice of reason and perhaps because he’d used her name for the first time. Everyone here called her Charlie, in keeping with her efforts to remain one of the guys. Her full name, in that accent, made her feel positively girly. Even in her game night layers of fleece and comfort.
‘He’d no right to say any of those things. At least, not the personal stuff. I guess he’s kind of right about the reason we’re here. He just didn’t have to be so rude about it,’ she huffed on his behalf, since he seemed determined not to rise to it. Not so long ago she imagined he wouldn’t have thought twice about charging down there after him and duking it out.
Perhaps he had changed. Perhaps he did deserve to have someone give him the benefit of the doubt. Then again, if his one friend here couldn’t let go of the past and fully trust him, why should she?
Hunter shrugged, those broad shoulders refusing to carry any more baggage upon them. ‘He’s right. He did call in a lot of favours for me. I owe him big time.’ Either he had really matured or he was putting on an award-winning performance to dupe her into thinking he had. Especially when she was the one chomping at the bit to retaliate.
She had to remind herself he didn’t owe her anything personally; there was nothing to be gained in convincing her he was anyone but himself, except to prove his commitment to the job.
‘So what do we do?’ Stitches and concussion she could deal with. A burly hockey player with his finger on the self-destruct button was out of her comfort zone.
‘I wouldn’t want to step on your toes...’ He held up his hands in mock surrender to her self-appointed superiority.
‘Okay, okay. If I have to tackle an irate man twice my size, I could use the backup.’
And because Gray had said so.
‘We can’t do anything until we’ve seen to everyone else. We’re going to have our work cut out for us back there, after that last scrum especially.’
‘Then what? The chances Anderson is waiting patiently back there for counselling, treatment or another rollicking are slim to none.’
They had no clue what was ailing him and from her experience thus far, hockey players were stubborn about admitting any weakness. There was definitely more of an ‘I can tough it out’ attitude to injury than she was used to from other athletes. It made her job that much more difficult when those niggling pains turned into something more serious left untreated.
If it was some sort of chronic or traumatic acute injury sometimes it could mean the end of a career. In which case, Anderson would be even less inclined to admit there was a problem. Male pride could be a terrible affliction if left unchecked.
‘You heard Gray. We have to find him.’
She let out her breath in a huff, which may or may not have had to do with his continual glances into the crowd.
‘Unless the Demons have taken to tracking their players, how on earth are we going to do that?’ By the time they finished up here he could be anywhere. It would be dark, and she would be more than a bit cheesed off with the whole drama. Especially when she was expected to do it with Mr Torrance and that brought him much too close for comfort.
‘If I know my hockey players, and the heart of any Northern Irish town, there’s only one place Anderson will be sitting his time out. Let’s hit the pub.’
If she didn’t love her job so much she would’ve left him to it but these were still her players, her patients, her team, and she wasn’t afraid of dropping the gloves herself to fight. It wasn’t only the Demons’ honour at stake here.
* * *
Not only was Gray frothing at the mouth despite the result but Hunter was struggling to find those feel-good endorphins too. It was his son’s first match, the first time he’d seen his father’s team in action, if not playing himself, and he hadn’t been able to share it with him.
‘Sorry I couldn’t sit with you tonight, bud.’ He managed to catch Alfie and his grandparents before they disappeared out of the arena and into the night.
‘That’s okay. Maybe we can come again?’ He glanced up at his guardians with the same hope Hunter was still clinging to.
‘We’re coming to the end of the season now but perhaps I could bring Alfie for a tour behind the scenes some time?’ It was a big ask, he knew, but if he was to win over his son he had to start fighting for time alone with him.
Alfie’s face lit up but his grandmother shut down the notion of any unauthorised trips with a stern ‘We’ll see’.
The light began to dim again before flaring back to life. ‘Maybe Dad could come back with us for supper?’
It was the first time Alfie had called him Dad and it choked Hunter up that he was even starting to think of him in that role. It killed him to have to let him down.
‘It’s getting late and I still have some work to do here. Another night, bud.’ He knelt down and Alfie rushed towards him, hugged him so tightly it brought tears to his eyes. He didn’t care he could barely breathe because he’d never been as happy as he was in this second. This was the beginning of the family he’d never had and the pieces were finally slotting into place.
‘Come on, Alfie. It’s bedtime.’
Although Hunter was thankful for the opportunities afforded him to get to know his son, he was looking forward to the days when there wouldn’t be a time limit set on their relationship.
He slowly and reluctantly peeled Alfie from around his neck. ‘I’ll see you again soon. You be good.’
The kiss he dropped on his son’s head inadequately expressed the love he felt for this child he’d been without for too long but it was all he had to give for now.
Someday they’d be watching the games and eating popcorn together before going home to their own house. Until then they’d have to snatch whatever time was granted by those who thought they knew what was best.
‘’Night, Dad.’
‘’Night, son.’ He waved the trio off, watching them safely across the road until he was too misty-eyed to make them out.
He sucked in a deep breath of the cool night air to fortify his aching heart and blinked away his sentimentality. It was time to focus on the positives. Alfie was happy and safe and he had a job to do. He’d prefer to keep it that way.
* * *
It was close to midnight before they were able to leave the arena. His, or Anderson’s, personal problems had to wait until the players who actually hung around after the game were properly cooled down. Ice baths and stretches were equally as important as the warm-up to keep the muscles in prime condition. He knew Charlotte had a few nicks and grazes to treat on both teams but nothing serious or unusual for men in close contact with sharp blades every day of the week. He came to knock on her door just as she was lecturing her last patient.
‘Remember: RICE. Rest, ice, compression—’
‘And elevation. I got it, Doc,’ a weary Evenshaw replied as she strapped up his ankle.
Hunter gave him a hand down off the bed and watched him limp away. ‘I hope that’s nothing serious.’
‘A slight sprain,’ she said as she packed away the dressings and other bits and bobs she’d used to patch players together again.
Now she’d ditched her zip-up outer layer he could see she was wearing a white round-neck T-shirt. It wasn’t a particularly remarkable piece of clothing, forgettable, if it wasn’t for the fact she’d unwittingly exposed her toned midriff as she’d yawned and stretched.
He coughed away the sudden surge of awareness heading south of the border. It had been a long time since he’d had the pleasure of seeing a female body who wasn’t a patient, otherwise he wouldn’t be responding like a virgin seeing a naked woman for the first time.
‘I hope you’re not too tired to go Anderson-hunting?’ Although it might be better if she was. Regardless of Gray’s insistence and the prospect this could somehow improve working relations between him and Charlotte, he was beginning to have doubts this was a good idea.
He kept losing focus when he was around her, not concentrating on the game or the arrival of his VIPs but watching spots of colour rise in her cheeks as he baited her. There’d also been that moment when she’d stood up for him against Gray. That had been unexpected. From both sides.
Clearly he and his one and only friend still had unresolved issues. Although Hunter knew Gray had said those things in the heat of the moment, there was truth behind them. He’d let him down in the past and though the words had hurt, he’d deserved them and Gray had needed to say them. He just hoped now he’d got it off his chest they could move on again. He wouldn’t dwell on it when he knew how much more pain could be caused by letting a grudge fester out of control. It had already ended one career and he didn’t think he had it in him to start over again if this didn’t work out.
No, it was Charlotte’s attitude that had been most surprising when she’d been the most outspoken about his reputation so far. Perhaps they were starting to make progress after all and she was no longer seeing him as the Ballydolan Demon come to life. Whatever it was, it had felt good to have someone on his side after all this time. Someone whose opinion of him appeared to be turning and she wasn’t afraid of saying it out loud.
‘Of course I’m not too tired,’ she snapped.
‘Of course you’re not,’ he replied. For a woman who appeared so delicate on the outside she wasn’t afraid of much. He got the impression she’d trawl the whole of Ireland even if she was dead on her feet if it meant sticking two fingers up at the doubters.
‘Where do we start?’ Charlotte was back at his side, refusing to let him forget her.
‘Wherever’s within walking distance.’ He set off at a brisk pace, determined to get this over with and get back to his bachelor pad as soon as possible. Minus company.
‘How do you know he hasn’t just gone home or taken a six pack off into the woods?’ Charlotte was almost running to catch up with him as she struggled back into that hideous jacket but he didn’t slow down for her. With any luck she’d get fed up and go home.
That was as likely as Anderson being tucked up in bed.
‘I know we Canadians are a hardy lot but we’re not stupid. That would mean having to go into the bar to buy booze and take it away. Dark woods might appeal to a brooding romantic hero but he’s a hockey player, he needs to blow off steam fast.’
‘He could have gone home like any other disgruntled employee after a hard day at work,’ she grumbled under her breath, but she didn’t know hockey players the way he did.
It was much easier to understand Anderson’s state of mind when you’d been there yourself. If he was anything close to following the same pattern he himself had, not only would he be somewhere, getting drunk quickly, he’d be spoiling for a fight to unleash some more of that aggression they’d witnessed earlier.
‘It’s possible but if we’re thinking logically, there are about six bars on the route back towards his house.’ He’d asked around for details, not that there were many forthcoming. Although he knew where Anderson resided there was little information about his personal life. It wasn’t because the players were reluctant to share with him—in that respect they seemed quite open to him, probably because of his hockey background. No, it seemed no one knew much about Anderson outside the team or alcohol-fuelled nights out. That in itself was dangerous. Hunter understood only too well how isolating it could be out here with no family around to catch you when you fell and pull you up by the scruff of the neck. Perhaps if he’d had someone do that for him he might’ve salvaged something of his sports career.
‘I don’t know why they need so many pubs in such a small space anyway,’ she bristled, every inch the reluctant partygoer, and he was beginning to wonder why she was so against the idea of calling in at the local establishments when it was the obvious place to start their search.
Maybe she was teetotal, although that seemed as far-fetched out here as leprechauns and their crock of gold.
‘So you have somewhere to go when you get kicked out of the last one?’ Well, that’s how he’d treated the place when he’d done his fair share of drinking and brawling here. Strangely, it had only seemed to ingratiate him more with the locals. Until he’d taken it too far, of course, and cost them the championship.
There was a very unladylike grunt behind him but he refrained from continuing the argument. Anderson was close by, he’d put money on it. The sound of the craic coming from behind the doors and the draw of the liquor would be too much to resist.
They started their bar crawl at The Ballydolan Inn, the first dingy building no bigger than one of the nearby cottages at the bottom of the hill. Once they made their way past the smokers outside they were hit with a wall of noise as the doors swung open. The deafening roar soon died down to a curious silence as the locals eyed them suspiciously. If this had been a Western his trigger finger would be itching, waiting for someone to make their move.
Voices rumbled low but Hunter caught the mutterings about ‘that hockey player’.
He scoured the interior, imagining an angry, drunk, Canadian forward would stand out in this crowd of regulars. When he saw nothing but curious Irish eyes staring back, he was ready to leave too. He wasn’t up for another round of twenty questions about his personal life after leaving this place under a dark cloud and turned to chivvy his companion back out onto the street. ‘Let’s try the next one.’
They received much the same welcome there at The Hillside Tavern.
‘Isn’t that the big hockey fella who went nuts a few years back?’
‘Aye.’
‘Thought he’d be dead by now.’
‘Used to play hockey. No longer nuts. Definitely not dead but very much older and wiser.’
Hunter tackled the rumours head on as they flew around him.
There was much more back-slapping after that, propelling them both towards the bar.
‘Glad to hear it.’
‘Sure you’ll have a wee drink for old times’ sake.’
It wasn’t long before a space was cleared at the bar for them.
‘Your local drinking establishment?’ Charlotte mocked with a raised eyebrow, finding difficulty imagining him partying in here during his time with the Demons. In her head he’d been living it up in the clubs in Belfast or exclusive house parties for the rich and famous. If she’d known he was only down the street she might have socialised a bit more herself.
‘Once upon a time. It hasn’t changed much.’
‘I doubt it’s changed at all in the last century.’ It still had the dark wood interior she remembered, permeated with the smell of the peat fire and sweat.
‘I suppose we should really find out if there’s more than one hockey player they’ve been doling out booze to tonight.’ She was beginning to see how easy it would be to fall into the drinking culture here. Honestly, there wasn’t much else to do at night. When the game had first come here over a decade ago it had been a godsend to the young inhabitants like her, giving them somewhere fun and exciting to go without getting into trouble.
He shook hands with the landlord. ‘Sorry, not tonight, Michael, I’m still on the clock. Have you seen one of ours in here? Anderson?’
‘There was a big, blond fella who talks like you in here earlier but he was a bit worse for wear. He made a nuisance of himself, to be honest. Spilt a few drinks, broke a few glasses. I had to chuck him out. Sorry, if I’d known he was with you—’
‘I’m sure he’ll not be too far away. How long ago was this?’
‘A good hour ago, I’d say.’
‘Thanks.’ Hunter grabbed her hand and bolted out the door with a renewed sense of urgency. The electric touch of his strong fingers clasping hers sent her pulse racing as they stole back out into the night.
He let go of her long after they had an excuse to be holding hands.
She absent-mindedly rubbed the palm of her hand where his had crossed it, mourning the loss of his touch already.
‘Do you really think we’re going to catch up with him?’ She was a little on edge, spending so much time with Hunter. Every minute together altered her perception of the man she’d loved and hated in equal measure without ever knowing him beyond his public image. It was unsettling to find out he was as normal as anyone else. She’d moved past her crush a long time ago but she was worried it might take her somewhere more dangerous than a shallow physical attraction if she wasn’t careful.
‘Oh, aye.’ His attempt at the local accent couldn’t fail to make her laugh and she was rewarded with a toothy grin.
She’d always thought him attractive—that was a no-brainer. What teenage girl wouldn’t have had her head turned by a handsome sportsman from a distant land? Finding out Hunter hadn’t the hero she’d imagined him to be had been the biggest betrayal of all. Her mistake had been compounded by watching him fall apart before her eyes in those last matches until he’d convinced her there wasn’t actually anything more than good looks and bad attitude there.
His short time back in the country was already beginning to change that opinion when he was doing whatever was asked for him to aid the team. That eye-opener spurred her on over the crest of the hill towards the old brick building with the faded green ‘Kelly’s’ sign.
She was saved from further personal revelations as a rather large, unkempt figure came barrelling out of the pub door to land at their feet on the pavement. It didn’t take a genius to work out what the cheer from inside and the sight of a burly barman dusting off his hands at the door meant.
‘Anderson?’ Hunter hunched down and brushed the dirty, bloody mop of hair out of the face of the unfortunate who’d been swiftly tossed from the premises.
‘That’s me,’ he said with a slur. ‘Gus Anderson. Man of the match. The crowd go wild.’
He was cheering now, swaying from side to side and pumping his fist in the air.
‘Someone’s got a high opinion of himself.’ Charlotte was having second thoughts about helping if he really was this deluded. He’d almost cost them the match, the play-offs and their very jobs tonight.
