There were so many things I would miss about this life, but playing here in Limaj was a kind of reckoning. For this one day, my worlds—present and future—had converged. And I fucking loved it. The only thing missing was Isla, but I was hopeful that she would be on board too. I’d been surprised when Erik had offered to talk to her, but it was a good thing. I couldn’t explain what it meant to be a Royal Protector better than he could, and if she was pissed about the background check, she was too well-mannered to be impolite in front of royalty. She might express her feelings, but she wouldn’t lose her shit or anything.
At least I didn’t think so.
Normally, we hung out in the locker room after a game, talking to the press and cooling down, but we didn’t have time for that today. We headed straight to the showers and then changed into jeans and button-down shirts, pulling on our jerseys over top. It was too cold to be in a regular suit and Erik had asked us to be more casual when interacting with the Limaji fans, so that’s what we were doing.
Once we were dressed, we headed out to the concourse where they’d set up tables along two walls, with the Blizzard and Sidewinders players alternating in the chairs. I wound up between Aaron Ferrar and the Blizzard’s head coach, Laurel Caldwell. She was the only female head coach in the league, and a former Olympic champion. She was pretty badass, and though I was technically done with hockey, I would have played for her if I’d ever had a chance.
I was just about to turn and say something to her when I noticed Chelsea looking decidedly uncomfortable. A journalist I didn’t recognize was all in her face, whether he was flirting or just awkward as fuck, I couldn’t be sure from this distance, but Chelsea kept backing up and he kept talking and following.
“I’m about to go over there and kick that punk’s ass,” Laurel muttered, her eyes following mine.
“Yeah, any second now, Nate is going to jump over the table,” I muttered.
Luckily, before anything happened, the guy bothering Chelsea moved off, targeting one of the male journalists, who looked decidedly annoyed, but big enough to take care of himself. The journalist following him, though, was an odd duck. He was dressed poorly and seemed a bit unkempt, which wasn’t normal for sports reporters at this level. I supposed it might be different here in Limaj, but everything else Erik had done was top-notch, so having a guy who looked like he was wearing hand-me-down clothes and hadn’t had a haircut in six months, didn’t fit with everything else.
The concourse filled with people as security started letting them in. Kids approached all the players, and it was nice because there weren’t any superstars today. Most of these kids didn’t know anything about hockey, so they were equal-opportunity starstruck, and I was amazed at how many had bought jerseys. Both the Sidewinders and Blizzard had sent merchandise to be sold at just over cost, so while we didn’t lose money, we weren’t making a profit either. This trip had been about goodwill and spreading the word about hockey, and it seemed to be working.
I lost track of everything for the next hour, until a soft female voice got my attention.
“Hey, there, handsome. I don’t suppose you’d be willing to autograph my…very special jerseys?”
My head snapped up at the sugary voice, and then I chuckled. “For you, beautiful, I’ll sign anything you want.”
“Jesus, I’m glad you two know each other,” Laurel laughed. “I was about to give someone a lecture about boundaries.”
“Dr. Isla Campbell.” Isla held out her hand. “Dax is my…”
“Boyfriend,” I supplied when she hesitated. Our eyes met and we smiled.
“Nice to meet you.” Laurel shook her hand. “Laurel Caldwell.”
We chatted for a few minutes before Isla started to move on. I noted she was holding both a Sidewinders and a Blizzard jersey, which she appeared to be getting signed by everyone.
“What are you doing with those?” I asked her.
“I’ll auction them off for the children’s burn center in Vegas,” she said. “In Gracie’s name.”
“That’s great.” I met her eyes. “This should be over in about thirty minutes. Meet me for the reception?”
She nodded. “We have a lot to talk about.”
“We do.” She moved down to the next group of guys and I watched her, hope filling me.
“Hey.” Lennox came up to me, King Erik’s son Luke beside her. I’d met him a few times when he and Casey had lived in Las Vegas, but he’d grown quite a bit since the last time I’d seen him.
“Hey.” I nodded at her and turned to Luke. “How’s it going? Did you enjoy the game?”
“You guys kicked a—butt.” He grinned at me and I held up my hand for him to high-five.
“You gonna play some hockey if we get a team going at your new school?”
He cocked his head, eyes widening. “Is that happening? That would be so cool, and yes!”
Before I could answer, a scuffle caught my eye and I caught a glimpse of the weird-looking journalist hassling Chelsea again. I frowned and Lennox followed my gaze.
“Goddammit, what is he doing?” she muttered, obviously torn between her duty to protect Luke and to go see what was going on.
“You want me to
