“What’s wrong, Maven? You look a little perplexed there.”
I glared at him. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on or just sit there all cocksure?”
“I like the sound of that second option,” he said, biting into a McGriddle even though we’d already eaten a massive waffle. He was so lean, I found it hard to believe he ate as much as I’d seen him eat in the past couple of days. Then again, when you skate nonstop for hours at a time, I guess you need to pack it on so you have the energy to do so.
“How do you know everyone here?”
“Oh, we met Vince during rookie camp,” Lonnie answered for me. “He was walking back to his place after practice one day and we called him over, started chatting.”
“Yep. I told him how I set up outside of every home game with my bamboo roses for sale,” Mr. Pruitt said.
“And I told him how I play my bucket drums,” Lonnie added. “Before you knew it, Vince was inviting us up to his place.”
My jaw nearly hit the grass. “To… his place?”
“Oh, that was such a lovely day,” Nonna said all dreamy-eyed. “He let us all take showers, made us a hot meal, and even let us sleep in the air conditioning for a while. We made a big camp there in his living room.”
I blinked, sure I wasn’t hearing this right.
When I looked at Vince, he was chewing, silent, staring down at his sneakers with his cheeks a bit pink.
“I tried to convince him to give us a key, but…” Nonna said wistfully, a rascally grin on her face.
“Now, Nonna — if I would have done that, I would have woken up with you in my bed by now,” Vince said.
“And it would have been the best morning of your life,” she combatted.
He winked at her, and she pinched off a piece of her hashbrown and tossed it at him.
“Since then, we been friends, haven’t we, Vince?” Mr. Pruitt declared with a grin. “He comes by and says hello when he can, and Lonnie beats the drums extra loud when we win here at home.”
“I even painted his number on the side,” Lonnie said proudly. “Forty-one, baby.”
Vince looked at me then, lifting a brow.
He knew without me saying it.
He’d surprised me yet again.
“Excuse me?”
We all turned to look toward where the soft voice had come from, finding a woman with a young boy tucked into her side. She smiled shyly.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but my son is your biggest fan. He’d really love to take a picture with you, if that would be okay.”
Vince wiped the crumbs from his hands and stood from where we’d been sitting on a blanket. “Of course. What’s your name, little man?”
“I’m The Machine.”
Vince’s eyes shot up, and the boy’s mom let out a little laugh.
“His name is Matty.”
“But my teammates call me The Machine because I’m the best goalie, and no one ever scores on me.”
Vince bent down to Matty’s level. “Ever?”
Matty seemed a little unsure, looking at his mom, but then he smiled and shook his head. “Never.”
“Think you could come give Perry some lessons?”
Matty laughed at that, and suddenly he was shy, his cheeks a flaming red as he tucked behind his mom a little bit.
Vince took the photo with Matty alone before the mom handed her phone to Lonnie so she could get in, too. I took a video from behind them, scanning the whole park to show the clothes and food Vince had brought out.
But I didn’t post it, not yet, mostly for fear of fans swarming the park, but also a little because I didn’t want to.
It was a dangerous admission, because it was quite literally my job — to show Vince’s life to the world. But in this moment, my heart was beating a little odd, my mind swimming with the contradiction of the man before me. Last night he was pinning me with an angry glare, his hand holding my jaw like he didn’t know if he wanted to kiss me or throw me to the ground.
And this morning, he was spending part of his day off with people most of the world turned their back on.
Therefore, the world could wait.
Right now, in this moment, Vince Tanev was for my eyes only.
Free of Expectations
Maven
The amount of times I yawned throughout the day was impressive, but even as tired as I was, it was fascinating following Vince around on a day off.
It surprised me that we went straight from the park to the stadium, where he changed and headed to the team’s private gym on the top floor. There were only a few other players in there, and they goofed off a bit before each settling in to their various workouts. They weren’t lifting weights, though. It seemed to be all cardio, a couple of them jogging on the treadmills while Vince spent almost an hour on the bike.
When he was done, he spent a lot of time in what he told me was recovery. One of the trainers did an intense cupping session with him before a long massage, and he finished it all off with a twenty-minute sauna session. I had followed him in long enough to take a photo before quickly exiting, because being in a literal hot box with shirtless Vince was a sure-fire way to test my professionalism.
Afterward, he ate another meal prepared by the team’s chef before we headed back to his condo. His housekeeper had come while we were gone, and the place was now spotless.
He spent a long time meditating, which surprised me, and then he journaled, which about put me on the floor with shock. When I thought about having one day off, I imagined him bingeing Netflix, or going out with the guys. And he admitted that sometimes, he did just that. But most of the time, he had a routine he stuck to, especially during the season.
While he was journaling, I stepped onto his beautiful balcony to call Reya and Camilla. They were losing their minds over the content. Between the game and all the footage from his day off, our followers were feral. And so were my bosses.
“All of this is gold,” Reya told me. “And don’t worry about your garden, your plants, or your house. We’ve hired someone to take care of all of it for the month.”
That brought me as much relief as it did anxiety, because caring for my home and my garden was something I wanted to do — not have someone else doing.
Still, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t having fun, that this assignment wasn’t exciting. I decided to take my dad’s advice and live in the present. What were the odds I’d ever do anything like this again?
Answer: slim to none.
With the end of that phone call, I committed to throwing myself completely into the experience and getting the most out of it. And when I quietly stepped back inside, Vince glanced up at me from where he was journaling with a crooked grin.
I ignored the way my heart skipped a beat when he did.
Throughout most of the day, he was silent, and I just took photos and videos and observed from the outside. I’d told him to pretend like I wasn’t there, and after the park, he’d been incredibly proficient in adhering to my request. I almost missed it — his playboy attitude, cocky lines, and quick banter. But there was something magical about watching him from the outside, being a little fly on the wall during a professional hockey player’s day off.
I wasn’t sure what I’d expected, exactly, but it likely involved women and drugs and spending money like it would never run out. I definitely hadn’t expected him to be so focused on the season, to work on his body and his mind, to stick to a routine that would help him recover from the games this past week while also gearing up for the ones to come.