Goal Line (Madison Howlers #4) Read online

  Annie had never had to deal with anyone thinking she was weird. She’d always been accepted easily into whatever social circle she chose. “Plenty of people who aren’t weird still know what they want to do with their lives,” she pointed out. “I don’t think that’s something that only happens to goalies.”

  “I only know what happens to goalies.” Devon shrugged. “Or more specifically - me.” The way he said it made so much sense. Of course he couldn’t speak for other people. But that never stopped anyone else Annie had spoken to. “Deciding what you want to do with your whole life sounds pretty big. I wanted to play hockey. I never thought of it as a life thing, even if it is one.”

  That, too, made sense. “I wanted to be a figure skater,” Annie said. “At the time, I mean. I wanted to look graceful on the ice, like the older girls did, and to wear the glittery costumes, and to not fall over.” Devon chuckled at that, and so did Annie. She figured that could both appreciate how learning not to fall over was a big part of any ice-related activity.

  “I don’t wish I was a figure skater now,” Annie carried on. She really didn’t particularly yearn to be any of the things she’d tried. She wasn’t sure she could explain how she felt in a way that would make sense to anyone else. Particularly anyone like Devon, who had known what he wanted to do to the exclusion of everything else. “I guess I wish that I’d picked one thing, and stuck to it so that by now I could be good at it. It wouldn’t have to be skating, specifically.”

  There had been plenty of people in Annie’s life who had said how it was disappointing she hadn’t stuck with something. How it didn’t show her in the best light. It made her not want to share her newest hobby or passion with others. Annie usually got over it pretty quickly. But the more she let go of a project, the more she worried someone was going to judge her for it.

  She didn’t want Devon to think less of her because she’d failed to stick with something.

  “Sometimes even now, training is really hard.” Devon nodded. “I have to push myself but I know that the reward is worth it. Maybe you just haven’t found a thing where the reward is worth the effort you put into it,” he offered.

  “Maybe.” Annie bit her lip. Devon hadn’t judged her as she’d feared, but she still felt… like it was partly her fault she’d never found something to stick to. She’d never thought about how looking graceful on the ice might be a reward for all a figure skater’s hard work. All she’d known was that the other girls had already had it, and she hadn’t. She hadn’t liked that feeling.

  Not wanting to dwell on her failings, Annie allowed the last sip of the hot chocolate to bring a smile to her lips. Devon smiled back, and Annie let the excited flutter of butterflies lift her to her feet. “Time to explore,” she announced, reaching out for Devon’s hand and dragging him to the next shelf of chocolates.

  “I’m going to buy you a chocolate,” she decided. “Something for you to eat next week and think of me. You said you’re away, right? Where are you going?”

  She enjoyed how he let her lead him to the shelves. Devon didn’t resist, his fingers laced with Annie’s. “Not next week,” Devon shook his head. “The week after we’ve got three away games,” he answered. “St Louis, Chicago, and finishing in Green Bay. Mammoths are our biggest rivals, as I’m sure you know.” That made Annie’s heart skip a beat. Did he know?

  “Because you’re from Green Bay?” he clarified. “It’s pretty hard to miss the Howlers vs Mammoths rivalry in Madison. I assume it’s the same in Green Bay?”

  “Right.” Suddenly, Annie was fighting to keep the smile on her face, even surrounded by chocolate. She had known that the Howlers and the Mammoths were rivals. She’d just been trying not to think about it. She knew enough about NHL locker rooms to know the kind of backlash Devon would face if it was discovered he was dating the daughter of the Mammoths’ owner.

  It wouldn’t just be teasing, she was sure of that. And what was the point in exposing either of them to that kind of criticism when they’d only been on three dates? If this were to get serious, then they could talk about it. If they were soulmates, then surely it wouldn’t matter anyway?

  “Do the games against Green Bay feel very different?” she asked. It wasn’t something she’d ever had the opportunity to ask a player before. Even if it had been, Devon seemed so different. His focus was already so intense, Annie wasn’t sure how it could get more so.

  “There’s a lot more booing,” Devon answered with a laugh. “You can definitely feel that the audience are against you. Obviously, whenever we play someone else’s ice the audience tends to hate us, but Green Bay... Green Bay detests us. Which, to be fair, Madison does to the Mammoths, too.” The way he said it so nonchalantly, like having a whole city hate you was fine, made Annie’s stomach clench. It wasn’t how she would feel.

  Devon seemed to sense her thoughts about it. He shrugged. “It’s part of the game. All teams have rivals and those rivals hate you. That’s just the way things are.”

  Slowly, Annie nodded. “I kind of get it,” she said. “I mean, they don’t hate you, Devon. They just hate you as the goalie for the Howlers.” Players did change teams. Sometimes, they even went from one team straight to its rival, and the fans - as far as Annie knew - didn’t hold a grudge. It wasn’t as if they really knew Devon, the person, enough to hate him.

  Still, it seemed like it was quite a lot to take. “So, something comforting for your game against Green Bay,” Annie decided. She was pretty sure Devon’s comfort food was cheese, rather than chocolate, but she managed to find a cheesecake truffle, which would have to do.

  “Does the traveling bother you?” she asked. Obviously, Green Bay wasn’t that far, but going to three different cities in one week seemed like an awful lot.

  “Nah,” he shook his head. “Not to sound like a broken record, but it’s just part of the job,” Devon shrugged. True to his word, he let Annie order whatever she wanted - of which there was a nice selection - and ask the waitress for a new hot chocolate before they returned to their table.

  Taking a seat, Devon didn’t let go of Annie’s hand, which made her smile. When he smiled back, Annie’s grin widened. It was easy to forget how she had worried even just moments earlier.

  “You should come to a game,” Devon suggested. “If you’d like to, of course.”

  Annie would like to. She’d love to see what Devon actually looked like out on the ice, all his focus and all his intensity on the game happening around him. “I mean, it might not quite live up to you playing with kittens,” she teased. “But I bet it makes a pretty good sight nonetheless.”

  Passing her tongue over her lower lip, Annie watched as Devon’s eyes tracked the movement. The only problem with going to see a Howlers’ game was, well, that they were the Howlers. Green Bay’s biggest rivals - which meant her dad’s biggest rivals.

  But if they were soulmates, it would be okay, wouldn’t it? Supporting Devon in one game wasn’t the same as supporting the Howlers against Green Bay. “I could come to your home game,” she suggested. “Bring some of my friends.”

  The way Devon smiled at that, face lighting up with genuine excitement, Annie knew she’d made the right choice. “I’d really like that,” he confirmed with a nod. “You don’t have to wear the team colors or anything, I understand that you’re probably a Green Bay supporter,” he added. Devon’s tone was teasing. Annie wasn’t quite sure if he really meant that.

  Then again, he knew she was from Green Bay. It wasn’t that strange for him to presume that she’d support her local team. Luckily, it wasn’t like the Howlers were playing Green Bay in the upcoming game.

  “I’ll be there supporting you,” Annie promised. She would. If Devon had colors of his own, rather than just Howlers colors, Annie would’ve been happy to wear those. Supporting Devon as an individual didn’t feel like a betrayal in the same way that it would have to support a different team. Her dad would understand. Not that Annie had mentioned Devon to him yet. Maybe when it
felt a bit more serious.

  She hopped down from her chair, pressing her body against Devon’s side as she tiptoed up to brush a kiss against his lips. “This has been a great date,” she assured him. “And I’m going to think of you, every time I eat one of these chocolates.” Annie would even try to make them last, at least until the game next week.

  It would help ease the ache at not being able to see Devon every day, as well as give her something to keep texting him about.

  Chapter Six

  THE GAME HAD started well enough. And then in the first five minutes, the opposing team had scored. Devon was pretty good at not letting that distract him, focusing on defending the goal instead. But no amount of trying stopped the opposition from scoring once more before the first third was even over. The pep talk during the break had involved a lot of advice to focus more.

  It wasn’t Devon’s focus that was at fault, but he was hardly going to attack the defense. They needed to work together better, needed to make sure there weren’t massive holes for the opposition to pass through.

  When, in the second third, the Howlers finally scored, Devon was sure they were going to recover. Another goal before the end of the third meant that their spirits were high as they skated into the last period of the game. But then their competition scored twice in quick succession. By the time the game was over, the Howlers had lost two to five.

  Losses were hard for everyone. Different players dealt with it in different ways. Arguably, losses were even more personal to Devon than they were to everyone else. He was the last defense. Letting in five goals sucked quite a fucking lot.

  It sucked even more when Devon thought about how Annie had been there to watch the game. He wished that the first time she saw him play could have been a game he had excelled in. Letting in five goals was a long way from excelling.

  Thankfully, the team knew to leave Devon alone after a game like this. Maybe tomorrow he’d run the tape with someone like Hayden or James. Not tonight, though. Tonight Devon had quietly left and gone home.

  He had a post-game ritual. It mostly involved feeling sorry for himself on the couch. When, less than half an hour after he’d gotten home, there was a knock at the door, Devon seriously considered not opening it.

  Whoever it was was pretty determined. The knocking didn’t stop. Finally, with a dramatic sigh, Devon got up to go and open the door. What he really hadn’t expected was for Annie to be there.

  “Um, hi?” Devon greeted with a small frown. She looked as chipper as ever. Despite how shitty Devon felt after the loss, his stomach still filled with butterflies at seeing Annie.

  “Hi!” She tiptoed up, pressing a kiss against Devon’s lips before she slipped past him and into his house. If she felt annoyed that Devon had kept her waiting or nervous about what his mood might be like, she didn’t show it. Instead, she seemed to be almost vibrating with energy, her hands wrapped protectively around… was that a hamper?

  Glancing around her, Devon saw Annie’s gaze drink in the framed hockey pictures on his nearest wall, signed by the retired players Devon most admired. The corner of her lip quirked up, her smile almost enough to make Devon feel a spark of happiness of his own.

  “I brought you something,” Annie said, walking over to the nearest table and setting the basket-slash-hamper down on top of it. She flipped the lid open, lifting a covered pyrex dish. “It’s a pasta bake,” she added, “with four different kinds of cheese. You don’t have to eat it now. It’ll keep in the fridge if you’re not hungry.”

  Devon couldn’t help the small laugh that erupted from him. She’d brought him baked pasta. No one had ever brought Devon a dish after a loss. Honestly, no one except a very few members of the Howlers had even wanted to be around Devon after a loss. That thought wiped the smile off his face. Devon knew he wasn’t the best company right now.

  “Thank you, Annie,” he said softly. “But I’m probably not up for hanging out right now.” She knew hockey, but Devon would understand how she might not know how players felt after it. All of Devon’s muscles ached, worse than usual because of how much effort he’d put into trying not to lose worse. Both his body and his mind were just tired.

  The baked pasta looked nice, though. “Did you make it?” he asked before she had a chance to respond to his first comment.

  “I did,” she confirmed. “And I weighed and measured everything, in case you need to know how many calories are in it.” She gave him a mischievous grin. “But that information is at the bottom of the basket, so you don’t worry about it tonight,” she said, her tone rather implying that she wasn’t going to let Devon worry about it tonight.

  She reached a hand out to him, and Devon could hardly refuse to walk closer. She rubbed lightly against his arm. “You don’t have to be good company,” she said softly. “You don’t have to do anything. I brought Toy Story, and a blanket, and if you want to eat, we’ll eat, but if not, we can just sit and… be.”

  Devon hadn’t known how much he wanted that until Annie said it. No one had ever offered to just sit and be with Devon. Honestly, he hadn’t known that was something he could ask for. And yet, she’d known without him even needing to ask. Leaning down, Devon pressed a soft kiss against Annie’s cheek.

  “I do own blankets,” he promised, but there was a little smile playing on his lips. “I’d love to just sit and be with you.” It was true. Devon did worry that she’d want him to... talk. He could if he was forced to but Devon didn’t want to talk. Not about the game anyway. He might be able to talk about Toy Story.

  Taking a step back, he took the pasta from Annie and showed her where the kitchen was. “Can I just microwave this?” Devon asked. The food looked delicious. While he hadn’t felt hungry before, now he felt starved.

  “You could,” Annie answered, immediately making herself at home with Devon’s oven. “But then the cheese on top wouldn’t go all golden brown and delicious. It’s much better baked.” She took it from him, sliding it into the oven and setting a timer on her phone. “It’ll be ready before we finish the movie,” she promised.

  “We can eat on the couch, and then if we spill it’ll be on my blanket, not yours.” She had clearly put a lot of thought into her plans for coming over. Devon couldn’t help but feel touched by that. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had gone to so much trouble for him.

  Leaving the pasta bake to cook, Annie led the way back to the living area. She ushered Devon onto the couch and covered him with the blanket. While he made himself comfortable, Annie puzzled over his DVD player for a few minutes. Her cry of triumph when she succeeded - the Disney logo flashing up on his big-screen TV - was enough to make Devon smile as she walked back towards him.

  She curled into his side, resting one hand lightly on his chest. Devon worried she’d want to ask how he was feeling about the game. Instead, she waved her free hand at the screen. “I have to admit, I actually prefer Toy Story 2,” she announced. “It’s basically the only Disney sequel I think is better than the original.”

  It almost took Devon a moment to realize that she hadn’t asked about the game. He pulled her in closer against his side, hand caressing over Annie’s arm. “I like Aladdin 2,” he announced. The way Annie’s head snapped to give him a scandalized look made Devon laugh.

  “When I was little, it was one of the only Disney films we had on VHS. I used to watch it all the time. It was that or hockey.” And it really had been one of Devon’s very favorite films. Whether or not the original Aladdin also would have earned that title had Devon had that on VHS, he had no idea.

  Annie smiled, tucking her hair back behind her ear as she met Devon’s eyes. “That’s cute,” she informed him, making Devon chuckle. “I guess I’ll forgive you for poor taste since you were only little.” She settled back against his chest, turning her head so she could watch Andy play with his toy cowboy on the screen. “You know those knock-offs they used to make? The ones that would have characters that looked like the Disney characters, but on ab
out a tenth of the budget?”

  Devon nodded. He’d seen those in the shops when he was younger. He had no idea if they still made them. “My dad used to buy me those,” Annie carried on. “I swear, even now I think the knock-off Snow White is more exciting than the Disney version.” It surprised Devon that Annie had been given budget videos. He knew her dad must make enough money that - unlike Devon’s mom - he wouldn’t have to scrimp and save just to buy her a new movie.

  “Why was that?” he asked, genuinely curious. From everything Annie had said, it really hadn’t sounded like she had lacked anything. It was very different from how Devon had grown up. He had briefly wondered if that’d set them apart. So far, it seemed to have just given them different experiences to share.

  That was quite nice, too. Devon enjoyed learning about Annie, about the things that made her who she was. His fingers stroked over her arm gently. He was missing pretty much everything on the screen in favor of watching her instead.

  Annie didn’t answer immediately. It was almost as if she had to process what she wanted to say in her head before she could explain it. “I don’t know if this will sound silly,” she began, “but I think it was just that he didn’t get girl things. You know, he just saw a princess on the cover of something and he bought it for me.” Explained that way, it sounded quite sweet.

  “He’d bring home magazines and books, too,” she added. “I don’t know where he found them all.” Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes as she looked up at Devon. “I think he was trying, but… in a way that didn’t take a lot of time if that makes sense. Time was always the one thing he didn’t have enough of.”

  That definitely was very different from how Devon had brought up. His mom had always had time for him. Susie had made it clear that she valued having time over having money. At the same time, Devon could see how others might think the other way around. Being able to provide was something he enjoyed now. He loved knowing that neither his mom nor his sister would ever have to struggle for anything.