That One Night: A Pucking Around Prequel Novella (24)

Well, you slid into the empty spot left by a winner—

No!

I shut down the negative thoughts. Getting in off a waitlist is just as good as winning it outright. Any of the guys on the team would agree. Your place in the draft doesn’t matter so long as you get to put on that jersey. Winning is winning. Playing is playing.

I’m smiling so hard my face hurts. I’m moving to Jacksonville, Florida. I’m about to start a ten-month sports medicine fellowship, all expenses paid. I get to work with a professional hockey team.

Tess ducks her head back in my room, green smoothie in hand. “You talk to Dr. H yet? What—girl, what’s that smile? What happened?”

I start laughing, tears brimming in my eyes.

She pushes off the doorframe, reaching for me. “Rach, what—”

“I’m moving to Jacksonville,” I blurt out.

She drops her hand, eyes wide. “What—when?”

I wipe a tear from under my eye, shaking my head in disbelief. “As soon as possible.”





CHAPTER 2





“I don’t know what else to tell you, ma’am. I’m looking at the screen, and I’m not seeing any record of your bags,” the airline desk clerk drolls for the third time, glancing at me over her half-moon reading glasses.

I let out an exasperated groan, juggling my heavy backpack and purse on my shoulder while I snatch up the receipts on the counter. “Then explain these,” I say, flapping them in the air. “The guy in Cincy checked all three of my bags. Clearly, they connected somewhere because—look—I’ve got one right here!” I gesture to the bag at my feet. It’s one of Tess’s old bags and the thing is holding itself together with little more than a prayer.

This is officially a disaster. The two missing bags have pretty much all my essentials—my clothes, my personal effects. The bag I managed to claim was a last minute pack job of odds and ends—a few medical text books, some bulky winter clothes, two evening gowns, and random workout stuff like a yoga mat.

I’m gonna look great waltzing into my first day of work tomorrow wearing a custom backless Chanel dress and my spin shoes.

“Can you please check again,” I say, slapping the receipts back down on the counter.

It’s been 32 hours of pure chaos. I’m hungry, I’m exhausted, and I’m feeling totally on edge after a long day dealing with multiple delayed flights. I didn’t even sleep last night, too busy packing up my life. I said a tearful goodbye to Tess before I was at the airport by 6:00AM for my first flight.

But a series of mechanical delays means its now after 5:00pm, and I’ve only just landed in Jacksonville. And now this human gargoyle wearing a button on her vest that says ‘I love corgis’ is telling me my luggage has disappeared off the face of the earth.

“I don’t understand how two bags can just go missing—”

“Oh…wait,” she murmurs, the screen of the computer glowing in the reflection off her glasses. She purses her thickly painted lips, glancing from the receipts to the screen. “Yeeep…here they are. I typed the flight number in wrong.”

I stay very still, holding the vacant look on my face. It’s easier this way. I don’t get a manager called on me this way…or a police officer. “Please just find them.”

While she starts clicking away, I shift the bags on my shoulder, looking down at my phone. It’s been blowing up since I stepped up to the counter. Apparently, it finally decided to wake up from airplane mode.

All the messages are flooding in at once. I’m sure Tess wants updates. She’s already booked herself a flight for next month to come soak up the last of the summer sun for a weekend. There’s a few messages in the Price Family group chat too. It was a miracle they all answered on the same FaceTime yesterday. I got to tell them all at once and we had an impromptu dance party to celebrate my fellowship win.

I also have a few messages from an unknown number. I read those first.

UNKNOWN (5:05PM): Hey, this is Caleb Sanford from the Rays. I’ll be picking you up from the airport. I drive a blue jeep





UNKNOWN (5:15PM): I’m here. Outside door 2





UNKNOWN (5:20PM): Can’t sit much longer before the guy makes me go around again





I suck in a breath. Shit. No one said there would be an airport pickup! I coordinated with the team doctor yesterday and he said to just snag an Uber to my new apartment. I could take the morning to settle in, and someone would bring me to the practice arena around lunchtime. I should have assumed the plans would need to change with all my changed flights.

UNKNOWN (5:30PM): MISSED CALL





UNKNOWN (5:45PM): Look, I don’t mean to be a dick, but I can’t wait much longer. It says your flight arrived 45min ago





UNKNOWN (5:47PM): This is Dr. Price, right?





“Oh my god,” I cry, shifting all my stuff around on my shoulder.

Great, now I look like a total jerk that just ignores calls and texts, leaving people to wait on me. I need to call this guy back. I need to get out of this damn airport!

“Please,” I say over the counter for what feels like the hundredth time. “I’ve got a ride waiting for me. I need these bags found. If they’re not here, I can come back for them, but I can’t just keep standing here—”