Chapter 211: Answer Your Phone

KNOX’S POV

The team bus rolled north along the highway.

Outside the window, snow covered the express shoulders and the pine trees lining the hills. Inside, thirty tired hockey players were stretched out across the seats. The bus smelled like old coffee, muscle rub, and damp hockey bags.

Coach Brennan walked down the center aisle, holding a yellow legal pad with handwritten notes.

He stopped next to my seat, holding onto the luggage rack above.

"Power play looked solid on film this morning, Knox," Coach said. "Vermont likes to push their defensemen high at the blue line. If Connelly draws the winger out, you’ll have space open up in the high slot."

"We’ll be ready," I said. "Jake’s quick enough to find me through traffic."

Coach nodded. "Stay sharp on your edges. Gutterson is a small, loud barn, and their student section gets right on top of the glass. Vermont plays hard, physical hockey, and they’re going to try to bait you into the box. I want us setting the pace from the very first shift."

"Got it, Coach. We won’t take the bait."

"Good," he said, tapping my shoulder before heading back toward the front of the bus.

Across the aisle, Bear was leaning his head against a foam travel pillow, watching NHL highlights on his tablet. Jake was slouched right in front of him, chewing sunflower seeds out of a plastic bag.

Jake spit a shell into an empty paper cup and looked across the aisle at me.

"Remember playing here last November?" Jake asked. "Their fans were banging on the glass so loud during warmups I couldn’t hear the whistle."

"They’re always loud," I said. "Just tune them out."

Bear paused his video and turned toward us, looking more serious.

"Hey, Knox," Bear said, keeping his voice low so the freshmen ahead of us wouldn’t hear. "Did you hear from your dad at all? Since Wednesday?"

The bus engine hummed steadily against the road.

"No," I said simply. "And I don’t plan to."

Jake gave a dry laugh and shook his head. "Good. The guy thought he could wave a deadline in your face and make you crawl back. He was wrong."

"Screw him," Bear grunted. "You’re better off without that circus."

Bear paused, his expression turning serious as he leaned closer across the aisle.

"Seriously though, Knox," he said, keeping his voice low. "If you need anything... rent, food, whatever... just say the word. Don’t let your pride get in the way. We’ve got your back."

Jake nodded, dropping the clown act for a second. "He’s right, man. We share the house, we share the load. Don’t try to carry it all by yourself."

I looked between the two of them. They drove me crazy half the time, but they were my brothers. "I appreciate it, boys," I said. "I’m good. Truly."

"Good," Jake grinned, tossing another seed into his cup. "And you’ve got Nora. Plus her mom sends actual bakery food. That alone beats a corporate trust fund any day of the week."

"Watch your mouth, Jake," I said, but a small smile touched my face anyway.

I pulled out my phone and checked the time. It was eleven-thirty-five.

Her morning economics class was probably letting out for lunch right about now.

I unlocked the screen, tapped her name, and brought the phone to my ear. It rang twice before her voice came through the line.

"Hey, captain," Nora said, sounding warm and happy. "Where are you guys?"

Leaning my head back against the seat, I felt the tension in my chest ease up right away. "Just crossed the state line into Vermont," I said. "How was your class?"

"Long," she said with a soft laugh. "Seventy minutes of advanced graphs and formulas. Professor Sterling didn’t even pause for a breath. How’s the bus ride?"

"Boring," I told her. "Smells like dirty gear and Jake’s sunflower seeds."

Behind me, Jake’s head shot up.

"Is that Bennett?!" Jake yelled, jumping up and leaning halfway over my seat to shout into the phone. "Hey, Bennett! Tell your mom to send another tin of walnut scones to Burlington! Bear ate the last one an hour ago!"

"I didn’t eat it, you liar!" Bear shouted from across the aisle, swiping his hand at Jake’s backwards cap. "Tell her Bear says hi and I’m keeping her boy out of the penalty box!"

I shoved Jake’s shoulder back with one hand and covered the microphone with the other. "Get off me," I muttered, glaring at him. "Before I open the emergency window and dump you into a snowdrift."

Nora’s bright laughter came through the speaker.

"Please don’t throw your playmaker off the bus, Knox," she teased. "You need someone to pass you the puck tomorrow night."

"I can score without him," I grunted, though I couldn’t stop the grin on my face.

I turned my shoulder toward the window, keeping my voice low and quiet so the guys couldn’t listen in.

"I miss you, Bennett."

The noise on her end quieted down, and her voice turned soft. "I miss you too, Knox," she said gently. "Play hard tomorrow. Stay safe, and bring home the win."

"Always," I said. "I’ll call you tonight after we get settled in the hotel."

"Okay. Good luck with the pre-skate, captain."

"Thanks, Bennett."

I hung up and set the phone on my knee, staring out at the snow with a faint smile still on my face.

Ten seconds later, the phone buzzed hard against my leg.

I thought maybe Nora had forgotten to tell me something, so I grabbed it right away. But the name on the screen made my jaw go tight.

Vanessa Orwell.

I stared at the screen for a second.

I hadn’t seen or heard from Vanessa since the weekend at the mountain, back during the baking competition. She was the last person I wanted to see popping up on my phone.

I hit the red decline button without thinking twice, and shoved the phone into my jacket pocket.

Two minutes later, it buzzed again.

Vanessa Orwell.

I pulled it out, hit decline a second time, switched the ringer to silent, and dropped the phone into my backpack on the floor.

Whatever she wanted, I didn’t care. I was done with her, her father, and anyone tied to Garrison’s corporate games.

—

A little after two o’clock, the bus took the exit for Burlington.

Lake Champlain spread out to the west, looking dark gray and cold under the winter sky, with shelves of white ice pushed up against the shoreline. Snow flurried across the roads as the bus navigated downtown and pulled into the circular driveway of the Burlington Waterfront Hotel.

The air brakes hissed as the bus came to a full stop.

"Listen up," Coach Brennan called out from the front aisle. "You have twenty minutes to grab your room keys from the desk and get your bags upstairs. We load back up for Gutterson at four sharp for pre-skate. Don’t be late."

The team stood up in a loud scramble, grabbing coats and backpacks.

I stepped down the bus stairs into the freezing Vermont air and walked around to the open luggage bay.

Pulling out my big gear bag, I tossed the strap over my shoulder, and grabbed my travel duffel with my other hand.

Jake and Bear walked beside me through the slush, still arguing back and forth about who was going to get the bed closer to the bathroom.

We pushed through the hotel’s front doors into the lobby.

The heat inside felt great after the freezing wind outside. In the middle of the lobby, a large stone fireplace was crackling with burning pine logs, giving the room a warm, upscale ski-lodge feel.

Ahead of us, the front desk clerks were sorting through envelopes of room keys for the team.

I took two steps onto the lobby rug, and then I stopped completely still.

Sitting in a leather armchair right by the fireplace was a blonde woman.

She was wearing a tailored camel coat, knee-high leather boots, and had an expensive designer purse resting on the small table next to her drink.

Vanessa Orwell.

As thirty noisy hockey players walked into the lobby, she turned her head.

Her eyes locked onto mine from across the room, and a slow, smug smile spread across her face.

She set her glass down, stood up without rushing, and smoothed the front of her coat.

"Knox," she said smoothly, loud enough for half the lobby to hear. "You really should answer your phone."