Icebreaker (38 page)

Authors: Deirdre Martin

Tags: #Women lawyers, #Contemporary, #Legal, #General, #Romance, #Hockey players, #Fiction

BOOK: Icebreaker

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The commissioner’s speech was short and simple. He congratulated L.A. on its season and valiant playoff run. Then he looked over at Adam.

“Captain Adam Perry, come get the Cup.” Adam picked up the chalice. He held it reverently for a moment, lifted it above his head, and with a kick of his skates he was off, circling the rink, holding the grail aloft for the entire lap. When he came to where Sinead was sitting with Quinn and Oliver, he mouthed, “I love you.”

Oliver mouthed back, “I love you, too,” earning him an elbow in the ribs from Sinead.

One by one it was passed to everyone on the team, the men who fought together to make this moment real. Once everyone on the team had a chance to skate the Cup, it was passed back to Adam, who held it high, skating once again along the perimeter of the ice, letting fans reach over the boards to touch it and claim some of its magic.

Back in the
locker room a few minutes later, the celebration continued. Sinead finally edged her way toward Adam.

“That was amazing!” she enthused, kissing him.

“I’m covered in sweat and champagne!”

Sinead discreetly licked his arm. “I know.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “What’s next? Have you fussy boys figured out what you’re doing before the Hart?”

“The official party is at Dante’s.”

“Would you mind if I skipped the official party and just went straight over to the pub to help my folks out?”

“Don’t mind at all. You know, this would be a pretty hollow victory if you weren’t in my life.”

Sinead blushed. “Adam . . .”

“It’s true.” He gave her a quick kiss. “Go on, get out of here before your brain explodes.”

“Will do. I love you, Adam Perry. And I’m so proud of you.”

Adam watched as she carefully threaded her way through the ever-deepening crowd. He wondered where his family was. He was on the verge of giving up hope of seeing them when he spotted Susie and the kids squeezing through the locker room door.

“Over here!” Adam shouted, waving his hand in the air so they could see him. He decided to meet them halfway.

“Oh, Adam, we’re so proud of you,” Susie said tearily.

He was just about to ask about Rick when someone grabbed him in a headlock from behind, a daily occurrence when he was a child.

“Let me go, you asshole!”

Rick released him. He could have sworn his brother actually looked proud of him. “Way to go, baby bro. You earned this.”

“Thanks.” Adam leaned in to speak into his brother’s ear. “Let’s grab a minute alone later, okay?”

Rick looked at him with uncertainty. “Sure.”

Adam felt like
everyone in the room was demanding his attention: the press, photographers, the Kidco suits, other players . . . he treated each one respectfully, but in the back of his mind, the celebration wouldn’t officially begin until the most important person in the arena arrived.

When he caught sight of Ray trying—and failing—to gain a place inside the locker room door, Adam jumped up on the nearest bench and yelled for people to make way for his best friend. Ray, with Jasper by his side, was able to motor right up to him.

“Never thought you’d do it, you fuckin’ loser,” Ray said with a shit-eating grin on his face.

Adam picked the Cup up off the floor. “You can only have it for a minute. I don’t want your germs on it.”

“Hand it over, douche bag.”

Adam felt a lump form in his throat as he placed the Cup on his friend’s lap, holding it steady while Ray closed his eyes, rubbing his cheek against the cold silver.
You robbed him of this. You—

Ray’s eyes were still closed when he said, “I know what you’re thinking, you jack wagon. Cut it out.”

Adam laughed.

Ray opened his eyes. “That’s enough. You can take it away,” he commanded. Adam lifted it from his lap and put it on the bench.

Michael Dante let out a loud whistle and hopped onto the bench next to the Cup. “All right, guys,” he yelled. “Time to hit Dante’s, then the team-only after party is at the Hart.”

The locker room filled with claps and whistles. The Stanley Cup champions were ready to roll.

Once the locker
room cleared out, Adam and Rick finally had a chance to talk.

“I really appreciate you coming,” Adam told his brother, tossing him a bottle of beer.

Rick looked offended. “What? My baby brother is in the finals, and he thinks I won’t be there?”

“I know this was hard for you,” Adam said carefully.

Rick clenched his jaw. “Yeah, it’s hard. Not because I envy what you’ve become, but because things aren’t the way they’re supposed to be. I’m the big brother; I’m supposed to be taking care of you, not the other way round.”

“You have taken care of me.”

Rick snorted. “Fuck off. What are you talking about?”

Adam took a slug of beer. “Who defended me to Dad when he’d bitch about spending money on ‘fancy’ hockey equipment, or driving me to practice when it was twenty below outside?
You
. If you hadn’t run interference, I’m pretty sure he would have pulled the plug on me. But you fought for me. I owe a lot of where I am today to you.”

Rick looked ill at ease.

“I know my helping out is hard on you. But that’s what family’s for, bro. I pull you up when times are tough; you pulled me up when times were tough. Who was fuckin’ there for me when I paralyzed Ray?”

“Adam—”

“No, I’m not going to let you be modest. I would have been swallowed up by depression if it weren’t for you.”

The brothers looked at each other for a moment, saying nothing.

“So we’re cool?” Adam asked. The brothers embraced.

“Yeah.”

“Good. You ready to party?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Let’s head out to Brooklyn and show ’em how real Canadian boys party.”

They clinked their beer bottles together. “Amen.”

Inside the Hart,
the party was already in full swing. Adam scanned the room looking for Sinead, but when he didn’t see her, he assumed she was in the kitchen helping her mother. Christie was at her usual station behind the bar, along with Sinead’s uncle Jimmy and her dad. There were tubs of iced champagne and beer. And music. Loud, pumping music.

Sinead’s father broke into a wide grin. “Congrats, boyo.”

Adam grinned back. “Thanks.” He hoisted the Cup up onto the bar. Sinead’s father and uncle jostled to take hold of it. Sinead’s father won.

“Amazing,” he marveled. “Sweet Christ, it weighs a ton.”

“Give it over,” said Sinead’s uncle Jimmy. “You shouldn’t be holding it, anyway, with your bad back.”

“Eejit.” Sinead’s father handed the Cup over to his brother, who made a noble effort to hold it aloft but failed miserably. “You’re right,” he said with a small grimace as he put the trophy back on top of the bar. “Weighs more than you, Charlie.”

Christie smiled warmly at Adam. “Congrats.”

“Thanks. You switch shifts at the firehouse to work here tonight?”

“Yup. Wouldn’t miss it for anything. Plus I’m used to being surrounded by rowdy, macho guys.” She eyed the Cup. “Is it good luck to touch it?”

Adam pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Probably.”

“So if I do, will it guarantee that all the guys I meet from now on aren’t egomaniacs or gay?”

“Can’t hurt,” said Adam.

Christie touched the Cup.

“Let me know if it works,” said Adam with amusement.

“Can I get you anything special?” Sinead’s dad offered.

“Nah. The beer and champagne are fine.”

“All right, then.” Sinead’s dad jerked his head in the direction of the dining room. “Get in there with your teammates, Captain.”

“Will do.” Adam lifted the Cup off the bar. “Sinead in the kitchen?”

“Of course she is. Waiting for you and hiding. You know that girl and parties.”

Adam carried the Cup into the dining room amid loud whistles and cheers. The players reminded him of young Greek gods: powerful, in their prime. Most of them were, Adam mused. Not him. In hockey years, he truly was a dinosaur. But it didn’t matter: he finally had everything he wanted, and so far, it was exceeding expectations.

He put the Cup on a table in the center of the room and headed for the kitchen.

Mrs. O’Brien’s face
went slack with relief at the sight of him. “Thank Christ you’re here, Adam.” She jerked her head in Sinead’s direction. “This one is driving me mad, getting underfoot.”

“I’m helping!” Sinead protested, stirring a big pot of stew on one of the industrial stoves.

“You’re harming more than helping, if you ask me,” her mother retorted. “Get that apron off you and go have fun with your man.”

Adam kissed Sinead’s cheek. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Sinead took off the apron and squinted at Adam. “You don’t look drunk.”

“I’m not.”

“Where are your brother and Ray?”

“They’re out there. Obviously you haven’t been.”

Sinead frowned. “You know I’m not good at mingling.”

“Don’t have a choice, do you? Trust me: you’ll have a good time.”