Janelle’s eyes light up over my question. “I love it. Even the cleaning-the-bathrooms part. I would love to continue working and over the Christmas holidays, I’ll take whatever hours Clarke wants to give me.”
I grin. “Let’s talk to Clarke and see what she has to say, but I’d say you’re going to work out very, very well here with us.”
Janelle smiles and heads toward the supply room with the rolling cart. I start to follow, then pause.
Reaching back, I grab the Melissa Foster book she was looking at and decide to buy it for her as a “welcome to the job” present.
CHAPTER 4
Riggs
Normally, I’m just pissed at the world in general, mostly because of my upbringing and the nastiness I’ve lived through. But as we walk into the New York hotel following our win over the Phantoms, I’m only pissed at myself.
I had one of the worst games of my life. We still won—soundly defeating the Phantoms, no thanks to my help—so everyone else is in a good mood, and most everyone is going out for drinks. As usual, most everyone on the team avoids inviting me, except for my linemates.
It’s Bain who is the designated representative today as he claps a hand on my shoulder and says, “Come on… have a drink with us.”
I shake my head. “Not tonight.”
Bain isn’t fazed and gives me a pointed look. “That’s your answer every night.”
I want to ask, “Then why do you still invite me?” but I’m inherently not a dick. Plus, I’m too tired to sugarcoat my reasons, so I merely say, “I’m exhausted and my lower back hurts. I’m going to take a hot shower and go to bed.”
“As opposed to the hot shower you had at the arena after the game?” His smirk says he’s not buying my bullshit.
I snort. “Let’s just say I’m exhausted, then.”
Bain shrugs and pivots on his heel to walk out of the lobby. The rest of my linemates are outside waiting, not one of them with a disappointed look that I’m not coming.
More like resolved.
I suppose the other inferred lie was that I don’t want a drink. In fact, I would love nothing more than a quiet beer while I shake off that lousy performance. So I make for the hotel bar.
“Hey, Riggs… wait up,” Baden calls. I scan the lobby to locate him amid the various players still standing around, finalizing plans as to where they want to go.
At first, it’s hard to see him. In his wheelchair, he gets lost in the towering Vengeance players. But he maneuvers around Bishop, who he playfully smacks on the ass as he wheels by, cutting a sharp left to avoid Bishop’s hand flying out to pop Baden in the back of the head in retaliation.
There’s no stopping the smile that comes to my face. The dude has become exceptional at steering that thing, and although he’s getting stronger with his walking every day, it’s still safer for him to be in the chair for now. Especially when he’s traveling with us and in places that aren’t known or overly safe for walking.
Baden and I have what I would consider a weird relationship. He’s the one person on this team who I’ve truly connected with, and it’s because he’s not out there with us day in and day out. After suffering a horrific spinal contusion injury, he’s been holed up in hospitals and rehabilitation facilities recovering. It’s like our friendship stands outside of the team for those reasons, which makes it a little easier to bear. Almost as if I don’t have that pressing obligation of camaraderie by virtue of being on the ice with my teammates. With Baden, there’s no mutual dependency for peak performance.
Another reason, if I’m brutally honest, is that I feel sorry for the dude. People say what they want about me not being a part of this team, but from the moment I stepped foot onto the ice as a Vengeance player, I took Baden’s injury and recovery seriously. Every single player on the team routinely visited him in the hospital and while he was undergoing inpatient rehab. I was new to the team and didn’t know Baden at all, but I made myself visit him.
The first time was over the summer once I got settled into Phoenix with Janelle. Baden was in between surgeries, and the visit could not have been more awkward. He didn’t know me, and I didn’t know him, and he was in a world of hurt both physically and mentally. After I introduced myself, we basically spent the rest of that first visit in silence while he pretended to doze and I pretended to be ready to talk if he wanted to. It may have been the longest half hour of my life.
But I kept going back. During many of the visits, to say I was not welcomed would be an understatement. I didn’t take it personally because he was doing that to everyone.