Page 2 of Fast Break

Two

Palmer

Practicewent better after Tisha’s pep talk and Coach announced I’d bestartingin our firstgame.

After showering and dressing, I leave the locker room and take the elevators to the executive offices.

Coachsent me upstairs to the media suite, where the communicationsteamwould be puttingtogether a promotional feature introducing me as the startinggoalie.

I never liked being the center ofattention, but the Director of Marketing is married to ourteamcaptain, Ava, and my friend,Charlie, is the Director of Digital Media. I'm in good hands.

Still, I use the reflective surface of the elevator doors as a mirror to double-check the powder andlipgloss Jewel helped me with.

I smooth down the strands of my blonde bob, wishing for the hundredth time I'd gottenpinkhighlights. When I mentioned toBrennanI wanted to put colorful streaks in my hair, he dismissed it as childish.“Imagine what your parents would say,”he’d said after I showed him a few examples.

He was right; my parents wouldn’t like it, but there was little I could do that they would approve of.

Speaking of–my phone jingles with the Imperial March from Star Wars.“MOM”flashes on the screen as the elevator arrives at the third floor and the doorsslideopen.“Hi, Mom.”

“Why didn’t you call us?”my mother demands. Elaine York was never one for the usual pleasantries, at least not when it came to her only daughter.“I had to hear from Aunt Dora thatRaniais engaged toBrennan.”

I draw in a breath.“I only found out last night.”

"This will be awkward,"she sighs."What will people say?"

The ball I took to my leg earlier today is nothing compared to the kick my mother delivers to mystomach.

Of course, her first thought isn't about my well-being.

I shouldn't be surprised, and I'm not, but I can't help thehurt.

"Thanks, Mom, I'm doing okay. The news was shocking, but it doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. "

"It matters to us,"my mother continues, either ignorant or oblivious to my sarcasm."This family has never been a topic of gossip before, and I don't intend for that to change now."

"It's not like I can control whatBrennanandRaniado, Mom. This isn't my fault."

"I know that,"she says."But, you can control your reaction and how this affects our family."

"Yeah? How?"

“I’m not condoning whatRaniadid,”my mother continues.“But she is family, and like it or not,Brennanwill be, too. If you can move past the–”

"Awkwardness?"I scoff."You want me to pretend everything is okay."

"Are you still in love with him?"

I gagged."God, no."

"Then what will ithurt? Please,Palmer. Is it too much to ask you to take the high road here?"

Iholdback a grunt."Fine, Mom. Whatever."

"Thankyou."

“I have to go, but I did want to share some good news,”I say, injecting false lightness into my voice.“I’m thestartinggoalie in tomorrow’sgame. Will you and Dad be able to come?”

“I’m afraid not. We’re entertaining a new client and his wifetomorrowfordinner,”she says."Maybe next time."

It's an empty promise. They’ve yet to come to one of my professional games and have only watched one or two of my college performances. My mother saw this as an indulgence, a hobby. Not a true career and calling. She’d never respect what I do, and her next words confirm her feelings.

"Honestly,Palmer. This should be a wake-up call.

You're not getting any younger. How much longer are you going to keepplayinggames?

You'retwenty-seven. You should come home, use that expensive degree we paid for, and join your father's firm.

I promise you'll find the right man to settle down with. "

"You mean someone you and Dadpickout for me?"

"Could we do any worse than you have?"She sighs."I don't mean to be harsh,Palmer. I'm only looking out for you."

"Right."I clear my throat, my face stinging from being slapped in the face with my past mistakes."I have to go. Talk to you later."

My throat burns as I turn off my phone. I breathe slow anddeepuntil my emotions are under control. My mother is right; I can't control what someone else does, but I can control how I react. Unfortunately, I can't seem to control my wish to be the daughter they want.

There's a flurry of activity going on in the media office when I arrive.

Liberty, who handles press relations, has her phone pressed between her ear and shoulder while she furiously types on the laptop in front of her.

Mei, in charge of player-fan relations, is talking toDante, the events coordinator, while he writes on a giant whiteboard.

And a few interns are setting up ring lights and a stool in the corner where a Maryland flag hangs as a backdrop.

I look for Charlie, who was one of the first friends I made when I moved toBaltimore.

The first time I met him, he put me at ease with his flirty jokes and easy charm.

Mystomachhad done a little flip whenCharliesmiled at me, dimples bracketing luscious lips.

Lean and broad-shouldered, with dark brown, wavy hair cut long and coppery-brown eyes that perpetually gleamed with mischief, he was without question the hottest man in the city ofBaltimore.

Hell, the entire world. And when the world included Chris Hemsworth and Michael B.

Jordan, that was saying something. Too bad I had just started datingBrennan, who at the time seemed like the safer choice. What a sucker I was.

Charliehas heartbreaker written all over him, and from his reputation, my first impressionwasn'tfar off.

I'm sure I wouldn't have had achancewith him, anyway.

The women he dated seemed to be my physical opposites.

I'm fit and happy with my body, but I'm also realistic.

Charlieprefers petite waifs. At 5'11", I'm the tallest player on theteamand often the tallest person in the room, except whenCharlieis around.

He's half a head taller than me, unlikeBrennan, who was barely taller and only when his loafer had a heel on it.

I don't want to think aboutBrennananymore.

So I focus onCharlie. He'swearinga fitted button-down, crisp white with the Battle logo on the pocket and sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

His forearms are like catnip. Golden olive skin, dusted with dark hair and defined by thick, ropy muscles. He must do a lot ofpull-ups.

“PalmerYork,”he says, jarring me out of my thoughts.“Here you are.”

I spread my hands.“Here I am.”

He sweeps my body with a glance andgivesme a dimpled smile.“Congratulations on thestartingslot. It’s well deserved.”

“Thanks.”

Charlieguides me to the setup in the corner where the interns are.

“This is Emma and Benji. We’re going to ask some get-to-know-you questions.

Then we’ll talk about your progression from college player to your firstteamand how their loss became our gain when they traded you.

We'll do our best not to puke when we talk about Philly.”

Ilaugh. My formerteam, the Philadelphia Stars, is our biggest rival.

Charlieattaches the lavaliere mic to my collar and adjusts the wire, his fingers tickling the skin of my collarbone.

“We’ll prompt you with questions you can answer naturally, like we’re sitting in your kitchen shooting theshit.

Except you’ll be looking into the camera. ”I nod in understanding.

“Try to repeat the question in your answer. First one,”Emma says, holding an index card.“Tell us a little about where you’re from and about your family.”

I straighten and look into the lens.“I'm from Frederick County, about an hour west ofBaltimore. My dad is a real estate developer, and my mom serves on the boards of several charities. I’m an only child, but I have had nearly every pet under the sun, so I always had a playmate.”

“Did you play youth lacrosse?”

“Oddly enough, I didn't play lacrosse when I was younger. I danced for a number of years. My mom wanted me to be a ballerina. But by the time I was eight, it was clear Iwasn’tcut out to do pointe. Sorry, Mom!”I delight when theteamsnickers at my joke andstartto relax.

“So when did you firstpickup astick?”

“My high school had ateamand I thought, why not? It looked interesting. Iwasn’tmuch into running, so I liked the idea of being a goalie.”

Once I go over my bio and answer questions about life as a Battle goalie, Emmathanksme. She unclips the mic and Istand.

"Is that it?"I ask, surprised at howquickthis was.

Charliescribbles something on a clipboard and hands it to Benji.“Fortonight. We’ll take photos of youtomorrowin uniform, both pre- and post-game. Of course, we’re always getting on-fieldaction during thegame.”

“Okay."

"I'llwalkyou out."Charlieputs a hand on the small of my back and leads me back through the maze of desks. Heholdsthe door open for me and follows me to the elevator bank.

"Are you excited about thegame?"heasks.

"Nervous might be a better description,"I reply."I'm afraid of letting theteamdown.Tishaleaves behind big shoes to fill."

Hemoveshis arm to myshouldersand squeezes, enveloping me in his familiar woodsy scent."You're going to be great. You're a rock star out there andCoachArkhady wouldn't have selected you to take Tisha's place if she didn't believe in you."

"Thankyou,"I say, giving him a grateful smile."It's nice to hear it."

"It happens to be true."He releases me and punches the down button for the elevators."Listen, a few of us are meetingfor happy hour at Poe's. Let off some steam before the bigstartof theseasontomorrow. You should join us. Unless you have plans?"

"I don't, but,"I wrinkle my nose,"Coachwantsus tucked in earlytonightso we're not wasted for thegame."

"Showtime is noontomorrow, right? I promise to have you in bed before ten."

His eyes glint with mischief and hisgazeonce again wanders over my body.

Am I imagining it, or did his voice get deeper?

A little shiver skittered up my spine. He's always been playful and a little flirty; it's who he is.

This is different, and I'm not sure why.

Probably because I have Tisha's suggestion about getting laid running through my head.

"I'll think about it,"I finally respond. The bell chimes as the car arrives, and I hurry on as soon as the doors open, eager to move out of his orbit.

"I'll keep an eye out for you."Heholdsmygaze, his dimples deepening as his smile grows wider just before the doorsclose,leavingmealone–and inexplicably edgy.