Time to shine, p.1
Time to Shine, page 1
Praise for the novels of Rachel Reid
“Rachel Reid’s hockey heroes are sexy, hot, and passionate! I’ve devoured this entire series and I love the flirting, the exploration and the delicious discovery!”
—#1 New York Times bestselling author Lauren Blakely
“It was sweet and hot, and the humor and banter gave it balance. I’m really looking forward to more from Rachel Reid.”
—USA TODAY on Game Changer
“Reid’s hockey-themed Game Changers series continues on its red-hot winning streak.... With this irresistible mix of sports, sex, and romance, Reid has scored another hat trick.”
—Publishers Weekly, starred review, on Common Goal
“The Game Changers series is a game changer in sports romance (wink!), and firmly ensconced in my top five sports series of all time.”
—All About Romance
“Role Model proves that you can take on sensitive topics and still deliver a heartfelt and sexy sports romance. Grumpy/sunshine at its best.”
—USA TODAY bestselling author Adriana Herrera
“It’s enemies-to-lovers with loads (and loads, literally) of sizzling hot hate sex and hot hockey action and it’s all tied up in a helluva sweet slow-burn love story.”
—Gay Book Reviews on Heated Rivalry
Rachel Reid has always lived in Nova Scotia, Canada, and will likely continue to do so. She has two boring degrees and two interesting sons. She has been a hockey fan since childhood, but sadly never made it to the NHL herself.
RachelReidWrites.com
Also available from Rachel Reid
and Carina Press
The Game Changers Series
Game Changer
Heated Rivalry
Tough Guy
Common Goal
Role Model
The Long Game
Time to Shine
Rachel Reid
This book is for Matt, Mitchell and Trevor. Thank you for your support and patience.
Time to Shine contains depictions of grief related to the past death of a close family member.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Landon Stackhouse had been expecting the call, but his heart still caught in his throat when his phone rang.
“They need you in Calgary,” his team’s general manager, Chris Ferguson, said. Five words that Landon had been waiting to hear for over two years.
“Yes, sir. I can drive myself there.” It was a six-hour drive at least from Saskatoon to Calgary, and since it was November there was a decent chance of snow happening somewhere during it, but if Landon left now...
“Nah, you’re booked on the next flight out of Saskatoon. Leaves in two hours. You’ve got a room waiting at a hotel near the arena. Someone from the Outlaws should be in touch soon with more info.”
“Right,” Landon said, barely stopping himself from asking how he’d get his car to Calgary. He wouldn’t need it. It was fine, it was fine. He’d probably only be there for a couple of days anyway. Maybe a week. He saw the game last night, and saw the Outlaws’ backup goalie, Gilbert Morin, get run over by a Dallas player. The injury didn’t look good; Morin had needed to be helped off the ice.
“You know this is good news, right?” Landon could hear the smile in Ferguson’s voice. “Getting called up to the NHL?”
“Yes.”
Ferguson laughed. “I’ll miss these sparkling conversations, Stackhouse. Good luck in Calgary. You’ve been outstanding for us, so go show the big guys what you’ve got.”
Landon doubted he’d be showing them much more than his door-opening skills while sitting on the bench, but he said, “I will.”
“And try to enjoy yourself for god’s sake.”
“Thank you, sir.”
After the call ended he sat on his bed with his hands on his knees, pressing his fingers into the soft material of his sweatpants. “Okay,” he said quietly into his empty bedroom. “Okay.”
He tried to put the situation into perspective. Yes, he was going to the big leagues. Yes, he would be teammates with actual superstars, including his hero, Antton Niskanen. Yes, this was what all his hard work was for. This was different from the training camps where he was always inevitably cut early. Calgary wanted him.
But also, he was about to go from being Saskatoon’s starting goaltender to sitting on the bench in Calgary. Realistically, he was barely going to meet any of his big-league teammates before hopping on a plane straight back down to the farm team. This would be a cool experience, but it wouldn’t change his life. He could be sure of that.
“I should probably tell Mom and Dad, huh?” Landon said out loud to someone who wasn’t there.
He sent a text to his mom, who was more reliable about checking her phone: Got called up. Heading to Calgary now. After a moment, he added, Flying, not driving, to reduce her anxiety.
He packed quickly and efficiently, the same way he would for a roadie, not as if he was moving to a new home. Because he wasn’t.
Should he wear his suit? This was the big leagues. He should wear his suit.
He removed his basic navy suit from the garment bag he’d carefully packed it in. Minutes later he was inspecting himself in his full-length mirror, which he stood far away from by necessity to fit his entire six-four frame into the glass. He ran a hand over his clean-shaven face, and unnecessarily smoothed his short brown hair.
The last time he’d been in Calgary was over two months ago for the Outlaws prospects training camp. He’d known then that he’d had no hope of making the team; Calgary’s goaltending duo was the envy of the league. Antton Niskanen was a future Hall of Famer, no question, and Gilbert Morin had once been a star goalie for Buffalo and was now a solid backup for Niskanen. Landon had worked hard in the AHL and had established himself as the best-of-the-rest. He could probably expect to see a lot more of Calgary as inevitable injuries and illnesses happened. Calgary wanted to rely on him in a tough situation, and Landon needed to show them that they could.
The man in the mirror looked reliable, he thought. Responsible. Probably too skinny but that was unlikely to ever change. At least he was tall. Coaches and general managers liked tall.
Landon didn’t particularly enjoy looking at himself. He didn’t like being seen, and only truly felt comfortable when he was wearing fifty pounds of goalie gear. Outside of his shell, he was all limbs and sharp angles and vulnerable skin and bones. He had to talk to people, and think about things that weren’t hockey. It was the worst.
Mom replied to his text just before he left his apartment to start his new adventure: Congratulations! That’s amazing and we’re so excited for you. Love you. Be careful!
Landon grimaced at the “be careful,” though he couldn’t blame his parents for worrying. Just like he didn’t blame them for not watching his games. The limited support they were able to give him was already more than he deserved, and the usual wave of guilt swept over him as he wrote back, I will. Love you too.
* * *
Landon was sitting in an NHL locker room directly across from Antton Niskanen. Antton fucking Niskanen.
He’d met him before, at training camps. But there had been lots of goalies at those, and Niskanen hadn’t been present for most of the practices and scrimmages. Superstars rarely were. So far, Landon’s conversations with his idol could be described as short and embarrassing. Last time Landon had attempted to talk to him, he’d clumsily stopped himself from gushing about what an honor it was to meet him by complimenting Niskanen’s shoes and asking where he’d bought them. Niskanen had said, “Milan,” and then had turned to talk to the Outlaws captain, Lee Ramsay. Landon had walked away, mentally kicking himself with his own Marshall’s dress shoes.
Things could only get better, right?
When he’d first walked into the arena, Landon had met with Andy Bates, the goa
A real NHL road trip. With airplanes and everything.
Landon was glad he’d be busy. He knew himself, and if he wasn’t kept busy, he would spend every hour not at the arena alone in his hotel room. The travel would be good for him.
So far Landon had been met with polite greetings and nods by his temporary teammates; the exact sort of welcome one could expect from coworkers who knew there was no point in trying to get to know you. In the locker room now there was chatter and laughter and the easy camaraderie of men who were together nearly every day and night. Landon had made a beeline for his own stall when he’d first entered the room, keeping his head down, letting everyone here know that he was here to do a job, and didn’t mind being ignored.
As he was fastening the straps of his right leg pad, a pair of skates with neon pink laces stepped between his wide-spread legs. He glanced up and saw the smiling face of Casey Hicks, Calgary’s young star left winger.
“Hey, Stacks. Good to see you again,” Casey said, as if they were old friends instead of two guys who had barely spoken to each other during training camp. “How’s Saskatoon been treating you?”
“Uh. Good. Team’s had a strong start.”
“Thanks to you.” When Landon’s face must have shown surprise, Casey added, “Yeah, I follow that shit. I’ve got lots of friends in the AHL. I saw that epic save you made last month. The one where you were all—” Casey stretched his arms out and lifted one leg. Landon knew the save he was talking about, and it had looked nothing like that.
“That was a tough one,” Landon agreed.
Casey put his arms and leg down and kept smiling at him. Landon went back to fastening his straps.
“What’s your wingspan?” Casey asked. “It must be like a mile long, right?”
“About six-nine.”
“Nice,” Casey replied automatically, then laughed. “For real, though. That’s killer.”
Casey had dimples when he laughed. Combined with his shoulder-length dark blond hair, unusual blue-green eyes, and pink lips, it was understandable why he was a fan-favorite for reasons beyond his hockey skills. He was...cute.
“Thanks,” Landon said, because he wasn’t sure what else to say.
Casey nodded. “Well, welcome to Calgary. Everyone’s cool here. I heard the postgame meal is gonna be subs. Try to grab one of the chicken parm ones. They go fast, and they are fucking awesome.”
As if Landon was going to elbow his way to the front of the food line on his first night with the team to get the good sandwiches. In front of players who had actually played.
“Oh, and avoid the third shower stall on the right because it’s all fucked up.”
“Okay.”
Casey’s tone turned gravely serious. “No. For real. Don’t use it.”
Landon stared at him. “I won’t.”
The easy smile returned to Casey’s lips. “Cool. Let me know if you need anything, ’kay?”
Landon couldn’t imagine what he could possibly need from Casey Hicks. If he required anything at all during his short stay in Calgary, he could probably find someone more appropriate to ask than an all-star.
Even if the all-star in question was a year younger than Landon.
Still, though. The offer was nice. “I will. Thanks.”
A few minutes later the team took to the ice for warm-ups. Antton Niskanen dropped to the ice in his usual spot to stretch, and Landon found a spot far away from him. He knew Antton didn’t like to talk before games. He knew everything about him. Landon didn’t like to talk much either, so he stretched in silence and tried not to be obvious about the glances he was stealing of his idol. Antton’s mask was a new variation on the same design he’d had for years: a team of demonic horses breathing fire, mounted by skeletons wearing cowboy outfits. This year the mask had “NISK” written like a brand on the chin of the mask, the letters still smoking. It looked dope. Landon was wearing his Saskatoon Bandits mask, which thankfully matched the Calgary team colors.
Lee Ramsay took a knee on the ice beside Landon. “Hey, I didn’t get a chance to welcome you earlier. Sorry. I was getting some treatment.”
“No worries,” Landon said, because he was totally chill and not at all starstruck. Lee was in his fourteenth season of an incredible career, and had been Calgary’s captain for seven of those seasons. He was often described as a natural leader, the kind of captain every team wants. He was also often described as handsome, which he absolutely was with his warm brown skin, tall, muscular build, and his Hollywood smile.
“You know anyone here?” Lee asked him.
“I’ve met some of the guys before at training camps.”
“Gotcha. So no friends on the team?”
“Uh no. Not yet,” Landon said, as if he would be making friends any minute now.
“Rossi is a good kid. Leandros too. They’re tight, though. Definitely come as a package.”
Landon wasn’t sure how to react to Lee Ramsay trying to suggest potential friends for him. Lee was ten years older than Landon and married with kids, so of course Landon didn’t expect him to volunteer for the job himself.
“Hicks is about your age,” Lee said, then laughed. “But you’ll never get a moment of quiet with that guy.”
Landon glanced across the ice where Casey Hicks was standing between two other forwards. Casey was talking, and the other two men were laughing. Casey was several inches shorter than either of them. He was, Landon knew, the shortest player on the team by about two inches. His official listed height was five-nine, but Landon suspected that number had been stretched a bit.
Lee tapped Landon on the shoulder and said, “We’ll talk later,” before standing and skating away. Landon’s gaze followed him to where the Calgary players were lining up to take shots on the net. There were so many star players on the ice, both on Calgary’s half of the ice, and down in the Los Angeles end. Landon tried to ignore his own nerves about it, like he tried to ignore how much bigger this arena was than the one in Saskatoon. How much louder it was already, even though the seats were only partially full for the warm-ups.
He watched Niskanen stop rapid-fire shots from his teammates. The veteran goalie’s movements were quick and confident. Efficient, just how Landon had modeled his own style of play. Not that he was comparing himself to Niskanen.
Holy shit, he was teammates with Antton Niskanen. And Lee Ramsay. And Casey Hicks. And Ross MacIsaac. The list went on and on.
And now he had to take his turn in the net.
Antton nodded at Landon as he passed him. He may have said something, but Landon didn’t hear. He was entirely focused on settling his nerves. It was warm-ups for fuck’s sake, not the playoffs.
He got in position, exhaled and waited. When the first puck slammed into his blocker pad, he smiled behind his mask. He could do this. The Calgary Outlaws open-fired on him, and Landon welcomed every thud against his body like a friend. He loved this. He knew it wasn’t normal to enjoy being bludgeoned with pucks, but god, he lived for it. He loved being in a headspace where nothing mattered but making sure he didn’t let anything get past him.
Of course, some pucks got past him. No goalie stopped every shot during warm-ups, but enough pucks thudded off of him to quiet his brain. By the time he headed back to the locker room with the rest of the team, he felt calm.
Calgary’s head coach, Greg Patrick, was waiting for them in the locker room. He kept his words brief, reading out the lines for the game and reminding his players of a few key things about the L.A. team. Everyone listened intently, including Landon. Patrick was unusually soft-spoken for a hockey coach, known more for his intelligence and sharp attention to detail than his ability to intimidate and shame. He was the style of coach Landon responded best to.
“I’d like to welcome Landon Stackhouse to the team,” Coach said, and suddenly all eyes turned to the new goalie. Landon wished he still had his mask on. He held up a hand, not quite a wave. More of an acknowledgment that, yes, he was Landon. He was here.
