Page 3 of Knocked Sideways

“Yeah.” Remy propped his phone up on his dresser so that he could talk and open drawers at the same time. Wait. “How would you know anything about that?” They’d both known Petey Moreau for years—Remy’d played with his brother, Levi, way back in juniors—but Remy still didn’t want Lily anywhere near Petey’s undoubtedly terrible influence.

“I mean, he’s all over social media. Posts team pics all the time. That’s how I know your old obsession is there, too.” Lily’s smile was back, but it was a little evil. “That should help you forget Mike pretty quick.”

“What obsession?” Remy shut the drawer he’d been staring into, which was full of a jumble of socks and underwear, and pulled open the one underneath. There was no way he could carry all of his stuff on the plane. How did people do this?

“Um, hello? That enormous goalie who also went to Vermont? The guy you couldn’t stop talking about when you met him in college?”

“What guy—” And then Remy’s brain shorted out a little, because yes, he knew exactly who Lily was talking about.

What with the whole mindfuck of getting traded and dumped, he hadn’t put the pieces together yet that Jed Grant was going to be his teammate.

And wasn’t that a whole new mindfuck of its own.

The idea of being on Grant’s team sent the churning in his stomach into overdrive. Obsessed was maybe a strong word for how Remy’d felt about Grant, but probably not that much of an overstatement, looking back on his teenage years. And his early twenties. Which were not that far in the past.

Jed Grant was the last player who’d gone straight from the University of Vermont to the NHL. When Remy played for UVM, the hallway outside the locker room was decorated with big photos of the team’s Frozen Four moments, including one of Grant. It showed him being held up high by his teammates—after a game-winning shutout, according to the label on the wall—despite the fact that he was a giant, even without forty pounds of goalie equipment. The photographer had captured him with his head thrown back, hair darkened with sweat, eyes closed, and mouth open in what Remy assumed was a shout of triumph.

That image had occupied far, far too many of Remy’s thoughts in college. And maybe for a while after college, too, if Remy was being completely honest. Which he tried to be. At least to himself.

Grant had come to a game once when Remy played for UVM—he’d been visiting with a few other successful alums for some kind of big fundraising event for the team—and he’d dropped into the locker room to chat with the players for a few minutes after the game. Remy had been totally tongue-tied. Or maybe not tongue-tied enough. He hoped Grant had forgotten all about that encounter, because whatever Remy had been, it wasn’t impressive.

Now he felt like he might throw up.

“I was teasing.” Lily looked worried. “Don’t stress about it, okay? It’ll be kind of awesome to play with him, right?”

“If by awesome, you mean I have to worry about fucking up in front of him, yeah.” Remy grabbed some stuff out of the drawer he was staring into and threw it on the bed, and then pulled the next drawer open. “You’re not helping, Lil.”

“I’m sorry.” She sounded genuinely contrite, which meant she was worried, and that wasn’t what he wanted, either. “Hey, don’t worry too much about packing. Take what you need for the next few weeks and hire movers to ship down the rest. You can afford it now, and I can be there to supervise.”

“Thanks, sis.” Remy forced himself to smile. Lily might be seven years younger, but she tried to be there for him like he’d always been there for her. That was the real reason this trade hurt so much. They’d spent so much time living in different places while he struggled to make it to the NHL, and now he was going to be farther away than ever.

“You can thank me by leaving me the keys to your car. You’re not going to be able to take it with you, are you?”

“I guess not.” He’d put that on the list of things to worry about tomorrow. “But yeah, I’ll leave you the keys.”

“Thanks. And don’t worry, okay? I’ll miss you, obviously, but I’ll be okay. And I’m going to love visiting you in Denver. Now, do you want me to come over and help you pack?”

“No, you keep having fun.” As much as he would have liked a big hug before he flew halfway across the continent—or was it more? He still couldn’t picture it—there was no reason to ruin Lily’s night. “Love you, sis.”

“Love you, too. Text me the minute you get there, and call me as soon as you can to tell me everything about your new team.” Lily’s voice wavered for the first time.

“I will. Be safe. I’ll talk to you when I get there.”

Lily blew him a kiss and hung up.

It was well past midnight. Remy had at most ten hours until he needed to leave for the airport. He gave himself five minutes to sit on the edge of his bed, head in his hands, and pull himself together.

This was hardly the end of the world. He had half a season left to show Colorado he was worth a one-way contract offer. Half a season to prove he deserved the kind of money that would keep Lily in school and their mom out of trouble. Half a season to convince the league that he was the kind of player any team would want to keep around.

He could do it. He’d commit himself to the job like his life depended on it. There’d be no dwelling on Mike and no stressing about having Jed Grant as his goalie. If he focused everything he had on playing the best hockey of his life each time his blades hit the ice, it would all work out.

It had to.

CHAPTER TWO

JED

Jed checked his phone for the third time in ten minutes.