With the ice underneath my skates, a familiar rush of adrenaline pumped through me.

Over the years, I'd spent countless hours working on my abilities—perfecting my power, speed, puck control, shooting accuracy, and every other essential skill needed to make it in professional hockey. But today, none of that mattered. It was all in the past, and once again, I needed to prove I was good enough to be here.

Practices so far had been a blur of drills and new plays, learning as much as I could while trying to keep up with my new teammates. Until today, when Coach Davidson shuffled a few players around during a three-on-two drill to pair me with Schmidt and Wellsley on the third line.

And I didn't question it.

Taking my spot on the right wing, I raced down the rink alongside them. Immediately, Wellsley passed it off to Schmidt, pulling the defensemen over to the left, and as we raced across the blue line, Wellsley sped towards the net before circling back around to accept a pass. At least that's what he wanted the defense to think. Instead, he left me with a clear shot when Schmidt sent the puck my way. As soon as it connected with my stick, I aimed a one timer at the top left of the net, but it was stopped as Nyberg, the goalie, deflected it.

"Good try, rookie," he said, tapping me with his stick before he got back into position.

Each time I raced down the ice, I felt myself loosening up and coordinating better with my linemates, even managing to sneak a goal past Nyberg before we switched to shooting drills. And when it was only me against the goalie, I made sure to vary my shots and take note of each adjustment the coaches suggested. After all, they knew what they were talking about, and I had faith they were only trying to make me a better player.

Time got away from me, and before I knew it, practice wound down with every player's version of hell—sprints. A drill which forced skaters to move as fast as they could for no more than a few seconds before turning around and doing it all over again. Sweat dripped down my face as I finished my fourth sprint and headed to the boards to grab a drink of water, only to be motioned back to the goal line when I did.

"One more sprint, Brookes," one of the assistant coaches called.

Without complaint, I followed his orders and raced across the ice, pushing through the burning sensation in my thighs. My lungs were screaming when I finally glided to a stop less than a minute later and Coach Davidson blew his whistle, signaling the end of practice.

"Good work men," he yelled, voice echoing throughout the rink. "Now hit the showers and make sure you're all here on time tomorrow so I don't have to kick anyone's ass."

Some of my teammates chuckled as they filed off the ice and headed for the locker room, but I stayed back, needing to skate a couple more laps to cool down.

It'd been a week since my first practice, and after being benched for the season opener on Friday—forced to watch from the sidelines as the rest of the team scraped out a win—Coach had put me on the game card for last night's game. I'd been used as a roaming winger though, playing on the fourth line or when other players were losing steam, and despite still gaining my footing, I knew I was capable of more.

And hopefully, after today's practice, Coach saw that.

Having zoned out momentarily, I hadn't realized I was the only player left on the ice and Coach stood near the boards, waiting for me.

Skating towards him, I glided to a stop. "Yeah, Coach?"

"How are you handling the transition back to Boston?" he asked. "The team, the city... everything okay?"

"So far, so good," I replied, leaning on my stick. While he was one tough son-of-a-bitch during practices and games, I'd learned he was a man who wanted the best for his team, whether it was on or off the ice. "I'm still looking for an apartment closer to the arena, but my brother and his wife are letting me crash at their place until I do, and the guys have been good about making me feel like part of the team."

"That's good to hear," he said, knocking his clipboard against my glove-covered hand as he moved to step away. "I want you gelling with the guys, especially Schmidt and Wellsley, because after what I saw from you out there today, you might just find yourself on their line next game."

The words sent a boost of confidence through my system as I made my way down the hall towards the locker room, only to walk in on a celebration. A bunch of the guys surrounded Jack, a veteran player and the captain of the team, as cheers and whistles filled the room.

"What's going on?" I asked, dropping my stick in the bin near the door as I nudged the closest person to me. That just happened to be Wellsley.

"It seems Simmons here forgot to mention he put a ring on his girl's finger last weekend," he mused before turning back to Jack. "And good thing too, or else she might've finally realized she could do better than a guy who isn't even good enough to skate a penalty kill."

"Says the one who's only there this season because Yoni was traded to Toronto," Jack shot back with a laugh, clapping Wellsley on the back. Then he turned to face me. "But yeah, I couldn't let anyone else swoop in, you know. Had to make it official."

"Congrats man," I said, and though I didn't know his fiancée, it was clear from the reaction of the guys and the unwavering smile on his face that Jack had landed a winner.

"Thanks, but listen." Jack turned to face the room, addressing everyone at once. "Even though the season's just getting started, and we're going to be working hard to scrape together as many wins as we can—" He paused as shouts of agreement were heard. "—Aimee's trying to work an engagement party into our schedule sometime over the next two weeks. And you guys all better be there." Another round of hoots and hollers started up; excitement filling the room as he turned back to me. "That includes you rookie."

The invitation came as a surprise. A good one, but a surprise nonetheless. "Count me in."

***

"Isla wants to know if you'll be home for dinner," Cameron said, his voice echoing out of the speakers of my truck.

"Not tonight," I replied, turning out of the arena parking lot. After practice had ended, I'd sat and watched game tapes from last season with a few of the guys before making use of the on-site gym. It'd felt good integrating myself with the team, and after a hard day's work, I was in the mood for a stress-free, relaxing night. "I think I'm going to hit up Apollo's for a bit and then pick up a few things from town, so don't wait up."

"Apollo's eh? Any chance this has something to do with the bartender you struck out with Saturday?"

My lips twitched. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't," Cameron mused before letting it drop. "Though maybe try staying out until ten if you can. Isla and I haven't had the house to ourselves since you moved back, and as much as I love having you in Boston, you've been putting a serious damper on our sex life."

"Maybe you need to get more creative then," I suggested with a chuckle. "But you got it. I'll leave you two to it, just don't be lying naked in the living room when I get home."

"We'll try not to be," he said, laughing as he hung up.

Minutes later, I pulled into the open lot behind Apollo's and my stomach growled, food the only thing on my mind. Seeing as it was Monday, the place was significantly less busy than it had been over the weekend, though there were still a decent number of customers when I stepped inside. Some were nursing a drink, looking to have recently gotten off work, and others were scattered throughout the pub, having stopped in for a bite to eat.

Jo caught my eye immediately, igniting the same spark of interest I'd felt on Saturday. Her dark hair was pulled back, highlighting the flush on her cheeks as she passed orders back to the kitchen, and a quick look around made it clear her and the other guy tending bar were on their own.

When she slid back behind the bar to grab a man another beer, I made my way over, only to watch her freeze at the man's overly obnoxious voice.

"You know, darling," he slurred, already stumbling over his words despite it having barely passed six, "you'd be a catch if it wasn't for the extra weight."

It was hard to miss the embarrassment that flooded her features, and though it was clear she was about to cut the man off, having placed his drink out of reach, I couldn't stop myself from stepping in.

"What did you just say?" I asked, voice low as I pulled out the seat next to him.

A mixture of recognition and surprise filled Jo's features when she noticed me, the redness in her cheeks spreading down her neck.

"Look man," he started, having not yet looked my way. When he did though, his eyes widened, realizing I had a couple of inches of height on him, as well as a whole lot of muscle. "I, uh, didn't mean anything by it. It's just the truth, you know."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "It seemed more like an asshole's opinion to me, so how about you apologize to the lady?"

"How about not," he muttered under his breath, slapping a twenty down before heading for the exit, albeit rather unsteady.

Jo exhaled slowly, though I noticed her jaw flexed with irritation as she turned to face me. "Thanks for that, but I could've taken care of him myself."

"I don't doubt it." I held my hands up in mock surrender. "But that doesn't mean you should have to."

She sighed, lifting her arms to readjust her ponytail. "Sorry, ignore me, it's just been unusually busy in here today and I still have another two hours before I can clock out."

"Don't apologize."

A small smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. "So, what brings you here?"

"Was on my way home from work and thought I'd drop in for dinner. Maybe a good beer."

"Well then, how do you feel about a dark ale?" she asked, grabbing a menu from below the bar top for me. "We got a new brand in a couple weeks back, and so far it's been selling pretty well."

"Sure, I'll give it a try," I replied, somewhat intrigued. "Though could I get an ice water with that?"

Nodding, she busied herself with pouring my drinks, leaving me to read over the menu. When both drinks appeared in front of me, however, I couldn't help but gulp down the water despite downing a full bottle after my last workout.

"Thirsty?" she mused, placing the empty glass in a bin behind the bar.

"A little," I replied with a smile before glancing back down at the menu. "Anything you recommend?"

"Everything's good, so it depends what you're in the mood for. Though to be honest, I always try to sneak a few sweet potato fries from the kitchen during my shifts."

"Then how about an order of those with a chicken burger."

"Done," she said, jotting it down before handing the slip to the kitchen. "It'll probably be a few minutes."

"Not a problem," I replied, taking a sip of my beer.

With no new customers to serve, Jo leaned forward slightly, placing her hands on the bar top. "So, you said you were originally from Boston, right?" I nodded. "Then how are you enjoying being back?"

"It was all sort of last minute to be honest, so it's been a bit of an adjustment," I explained. I didn't know whether she was a hockey fan, and while it was unlikely she knew who I was, a part of me wanted to hold back telling her exactly why I'd moved back to the city. There'd been women in the past who had suddenly become interested in me after discovering I played hockey, and even though I sensed Jo wasn't one to coo over a player, I didn't want to chance it. Not yet. "But I'm staying with my brother until I find a place of my own and I'm doing what I love, so I can't really complain."

She nodded, on the verge of a reply when her eyes drifted towards the entrance. Following her gaze, I spotted the small group of newcomers making their way towards the bar, and with the other bartender serving another couple, Jo stepped away. "Hold that thought."

My eyes trailed after her as she served the customers—who I assumed to be regulars as I watched the ease with which she chatted with them. She listened to one woman talk as she poured drinks, laughing along in reply. Once the drinks were served, she took their orders, none of them needing menus as they rattled off a selection of food before heading for one of the open booths.

"Sorry about that," Jo said once she'd slipped the kitchen their order.

"Don't worry about it." I waved her off. "I know you're working."

"So, where were we?"

"I think I was telling you how much I hated being back in town," I replied, my lips curling. "And I believe you were about to console me. You know, tell me things would get better and all that jazz."

The laugh that rang from her lips was unrestrained and full of joy, her expression lighting up with mirth. "I don't think that's exactly what was happening," she said, her laughter trailing off and leaving a grin.

"No?" I drawled, lifting an eyebrow.

She shook her head. "I'm pretty sure you were telling me how happy you were to be back in Boston, and I was going to say it's great you were able to come home to do what you love, no matter how sudden it all was. Or you know, something along those lines," she said, adding the last bit on cheekily.

A light chuckle escaped me at the same time a ding from the kitchen caught Jo's attention. An order was up, and luckily, it looked to be mine.

"And dinner is served," she said, setting the plate down in front of me.

I popped a fry into my mouth before smiling. "Thanks."

We chatted for a few more minutes, but as I ate, the line of customers slowly began to grow, causing her to step away several times. It didn't bother me watching her serve as I devoured my burger and fries, slowly sipping on my beer between bites, but by the time I'd finished, the crowd had grown by a decent amount and I figured there wasn't much point of sticking around. Jo had enough on her plate, so when I noticed she had a spare second, I waved her over.

"Here," I said, passing over a few bills to cover my tab and a tip. "I think I'm going to head out."

"Okay." She slid the money into the till and turned back to me with a smile on her lips. "See you around, Seb."

Before I could utter the words 'you too', she had already turned on her heel, her focus back on the customers as I headed for my truck with a content smile on my face. 

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