I opened Doug’s email and scanned through the finer details about the trade.
“Is this real?” I asked.
I kept staring at my phone at the words on the screen. Getting traded sucked but to my dream team? To the team that was always at the top of my list if I wanted to go elsewhere? It was like a childhood dream come true. I had to pinch myself to make sure I was reading this right.
“Yeah, kid, it’s real.”
“Whoa,” I breathed out.
“Congrats, you can move back home. I’m sure your dad’ll be thrilled.”
“Okay,” I muttered.
I was still in shock, my mind racing to all the things I needed for the move. I didn’t have a house in Toronto; I kept it simple with a condo in the city. My sister Maja lived with me, but she could stay until she was done with school.
“It’s a good thing, Blaise. Toronto was taking a hit on their cap, but Philly had the room. Don’t fuck up this season, okay?”
“Okay, okay. I got it. Thanks, man.”
I hung up the phone and sat on my bed with unease.
I always dreamed of playing for Philly, of being a hometown guy, but getting traded felt like a failure. The dark part of me couldn’t help but feel like Philly only wanted me because I was Halvard Holmstrom’s son. Like it was a publicity move.
A knock sounded on my door, and I saw Dad standing in the doorway, rubbing his grey hair with a towel. “I just saw. That’s good, no?”
I swallowed hard and nodded. “Yes and no. Toronto didn’t want me anymore.”
“Fuck them. You were born to play in Philly, Blaise. And raised in that barn, and don’t forget that.”
He disappeared from the doorway before I could say anything. I never understood that man. Sometimes I felt like he was proud of me, but other times I couldn’t get a read on him. Was that some stoic European thing? I could never tell.
The only thing I knew for sure was that I couldn’t let Astrid breaking my heart mess up the rest of my career. Next season would be a fresh start with Philly. I wouldn’t mess it up. Not this time.
My phone vibrated against the bedside table, and a grin spread across my face at the slew of texts from my sister.
MAJA: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
MAJA: HOLY FUCKING SHIT! Is this real?
MAJA: Bro! Tell me it’s real!
MAJA: TELL ME!!!
MAJA: Also, am I homeless now??
I shook my head with a laugh and called her instead.
If there was anyone excited about this trade, it was definitely my Bulldogs-obsessed baby sister. I had to love her for that.
Chapter Six
VERONICA
* * *
OCTOBER
“Okay, why the cherry blossoms?” I asked. I laid out my tattoo sketches on the counter and stared up at the hot six-foot-four giant.
Behind him, his curvy girlfriend smiled. “Because it’s my favorite flower,” Rox explained.
“Ugh! Love! It makes me sick!” I teased. “What do you think?”
Benny nodded. “Your artwork’s amazing. Let’s do it.”
I put the sketches aside and grabbed the stencil I had already made up. “Come on, big guy. Take off your shirt.”
He technically wasn’t getting her name tattooed, but a dude getting his lady’s favorite flower on his heart entered that territory. I almost said no to this client, but it was Rox, and she pleaded. I didn’t have time to argue, and I needed the money anyway.
The shop was swamped. Back in July, when we were having issues with Andy, it only got worse. He up and quit last month, and we had been down staff for a while. We wanted to hire two more artists, but the artists coming in weren’t that good. Since I had been right about Andy, my brother and his husband had been leaning on me a lot. Served them right, but it meant I was scrambling to make all my appointments.
“That’s what all the women say,” Benny teased.
Rox glared at him. “They better not.” She looked so mad at the thought of other women macking on her man.
He smiled and pulled her by the waist to him. He kissed her quickly, and I swear she melted into a puddle on the floor.
“Do I need to spray water on you?” I teased.
The two lovebirds pulled apart reluctantly, and I walked them over to my station. Benny shed his leather jacket and took his black t-shirt off. Holy fuck, he was big. I had him lie down on his back in my tattoo chair while I pulled on my gloves and put the stencil on his chest.
“This isn’t your first tattoo, right?” I asked.
He pointed to his arm, where he had a cool Calavera tattoo. I leaned over to study it, and the artwork looked vaguely familiar to me. “Did my brother do this?”
“Is your brother a light-skinned Mexican guy?” he asked and squinted at me.
I knew what people thought when I said Alex was my brother. We called him Alex, but his first name was Alejandro, after his mom’s dad. People got confused because I was pale as a ghost, and my brother had light brown skin.
“We have different moms,” I explained. I peeled back the paper on the stencil and held up a mirror so he could check the placement. “Are you good with this?”
He nodded. “Looks good. Rox trusts you, so do what you gotta do.”
I put down the mirror at my side table and got out my machine, turning it on and dipping it in ink. “Ready?”
“Not really, but go for it,” he said with a smile.
My smile was hidden as my machine blared to life, and I started inking his skin.
He reached out to Rox and gripped her hand in his. “Oh, love, it’s not that bad,” Rox assured him.
“Angel, hold my hand and stop teasing me.” He cringed at the pain.
“I thought you were supposed to be a big tough guy. Don’t you play hockey?” I teased while I did my work. But it was cute to see this big guy ask his girl to hold his hand. These two were perfect for each other.
He glared at me, and I laughed. “No wonder you like her,” he said to his girlfriend. He looked like he was sweating from the pain. Poor guy.
I tried to distract him by getting him to talk more. “What position do you play?”
“Left-wing.”
“I don’t know what that means. Does that mean you play offense or defense?”
“Offense. I’m a forward, but I work mostly on the outer playing area.”
“Yeah, I don’t know what that means,” I admitted. “I hooked up with a hockey player over the summer, but I don’t know what position he played.”
“Really?” Rox asked, her interest peaked. “Who?”
“Not on our team, but he’s from here,” I explained. “How are the Bulldogs doing? I don’t pay attention to sports.”
Rox beamed. “Sales are good. We got a new defenseman on the team, so everyone’s trying to figure out the new arrangements. Coach has been experimenting with the lines, trying to figure out special teams.”
I had zero idea what she was talking about, but I nodded as if I did.
Benny laughed. “Rox, she doesn’t care about hockey.”
The curvy woman smiled. “Sorry! Now that I’m playing again, it’s like I eat, sleep, and breathe the sport.”