Page 41

JACK

Coach Ferris pulls me aside in the hall. Our defensive coach has a big smile as he claps me on the shoulder. Sinc, that was your best game this year. You’ve earned yourself a promotion for tomorrow night’s game.

Thanks, Coach. I grin back, then wonder if he means what I think he means.

I’ve already worked my way up to the second defence pairing, so…

there’s only one spot above that. If I’m in the top pair, I’ll get to play with Coty.

Not only will I get more ice time, but we’re a great team.

We read off each other well—he covers me when I jump up into the offence, and vice versa.

Of course, what I want to do right now is call Andy and tell her. But I’m supposed to be giving her space and not bothering her with every tiny milestone in my life. I don’t regret standing up for myself, but I’m worried about Andy. She looked so lost this afternoon.

In the dressing room I pass by O.D., and he starts jawing about talentless rookies getting unearned minutes. I’m tempted to let it go, but after I bulldozed poor Andy, why should I let this asshole off the hook?

I stop in front of him. If you’ve got an issue, why don’t you say it to my face instead of bitching behind my back?

He jumps up and gets right in my face. He’s shirtless, as usual, and his chest is as red as his face. The guy looks like a heart attack candidate.

Yeah, I’ve got an issue, he snarls. You come in here, sucking up to the coaches and trying to take minutes from guys who have been here longer and earned their time.

The anger that’s been simmering ever since I had to back off from Bryce is now boiling over. I’m tired of being the peacekeeper. O.D. and I will never be friends.

Seniority doesn’t mean shit in hockey. It’s about hard work. And if by sucking up, you mean that I do what the coaches tell me instead of trying to showboat in front of a few scouts? Then yeah, that’s exactly what I do.

Tonight O.D. was playing for himself instead of the team, and that’s how our opponents managed to score their third goal. We ended up busting our asses to fend off a comeback that was all his fault.

The room is tense as everyone watches us warily. O.D. looks like he wants to take another swing at me, but a fight means neither of us would play the next game. I scowl at him, refusing to back down. Finally, he sputters and backs off.

I’m astounded. Is that all it takes to get him to lay off? I should have stood up to him long ago. Again, I have this urge to tell Andy what happened, but instead I start peeling off my gear.

The new sports editor, Joey Vincent, is here trying to be buddies with everyone. I already hate the guy. Two seconds after introducing himself, he joked that we must be happy to have a man on the job again. Nobody even smiled, because we’re all in Andy and Jacob’s corner.

Joey’s presence makes me imagine what it would be like if Andy were here in Wisconsin instead of him. Maybe she’d have her own hotel room, and we could get some privacy. The sex would be amazing, but joking and talking with Andy is what I really miss.

After a team dinner, some of the guys go out barhopping, but I go straight back to my room. I’m not exactly in a party mood. Seeing Andy in person this morning reminded me how damn much I want her back in my life. In the end, I just go to bed early.

The mood on the bus to our second game is amped. One more win and we could finish atop the tourney standings. Beside me, Bergy is yakking non-stop. I’m only half-listening when one word catches my attention.

Wait, did you say Dawn? Dawn Wheaton, Andy’s friend? I ask.

Yeah, were you not listening? I did that modelling gig for her and I’m pretty sure she’s crushing on me now.

Burly turns around from the seat in front and gapes. Modelling? Like in designer clothes?

Bergy preens. No. Artist modelling. She said I have the body of a Greek statue.

And the brain too, Swanny from calls across the aisle.

Wait, so you had no clothes on? Burly asks.

I kept my tighty-whities on. But everything else was gonzo.

Including all your body hair, Ethan taunts, and Bergy swears at him.

From what I know of Dawn, Bergy doesn’t seem like her type, but maybe seeing him half-naked changed her mind?

Still, I’m desperate for more information. Has Dawn ever said anything about me and Andy?

Bergy shakes his head, then pauses. Oh, wait. She said that you’re good for Andy.

This is great news. Really? In what way?

No clue. I was wrapped up in this plaster shit that kept getting hotter, so I had more important stuff to worry about.

As usual, Bergy is zero help. I return to tuning him out and worrying about Andy. Usually, I like to imagine what she’s doing when we’re apart, but right now we’re out of sync.

The bus pulls up to the arena, and we file out. I go down the steps after Mats, and he glances back at me with a smile. As I head towards the arena entrance, a woman calls out, Hey, Sinc! Can you sign my friend’s jersey?

I turn to see Emily, Andy’s friend, giggling. Beside her is someone with her back turned, so all I can see is a Mustangs jersey with my name and number. But I’d recognize the back of that head anywhere—shiny black hair pinned up in a messy bun. Andy. In my jersey.

I rush over and spin her around. She smiles up at me—with real joy. That haunted look I saw earlier is gone from her eyes. She looks almost as happy as I feel right now.

What are you doing here? I demand.

I came to see your game, she says—like it’s a completely normal thing to do and not a two-hour drive from Monarch.

I don’t hold back. I lift her up and squish her so tightly that she lets out a little oof .

I’m so happy to see you, I begin. But how did you get here? Why did you come? There’s so much I don’t understand.

Andy’s arms encircle me like she doesn’t want to let me go either. I’ll explain everything later. But there’s one important thing I need to say: I’m ready to be all in now. The risk is worth what we have.

Of course, now I have a million more questions, but who cares? I don’t have to worry that I forced her into anything, I can relax and be happy. Besides, who needs explanations when Andy looks this radiant?

Sinclair. Move your ass, Coach Greene calls out. I look around and I’m the only player still out here.

Coming. I release Andy and turn her around. Emily hands me a Sharpie and I sign the top of the number eight using the signature I’ve practised since I was nine years old and dreaming of hockey greatness.

What says commitment better than spending over a hundred bucks on a new jersey? asks my sassy girlfriend. I kiss her on the forehead and run into the arena.

Andy calls out, Have a good game.

Oh, I will. I’m feeling it right now.

ANDY

E MILY AND I wander around the arena since we have oodles of time before the game. I spot Alex setting up a video camera and realize I can take care of a little newspaper business while I’m here. Emily opts to hunt down snacks instead. I greet Jacob and Alex with a big smile.

What are you doing here? Jacob asks, with his usual frown.

Good to see you too. I want to know if you’d like to cover hockey games again.

What happened to The Pornstache? he replies.

I choke down a laugh. Joey Vincent does have some very unfortunate facial hair. Well, he won’t find out until Monday, but I’m back. And I want to reunite the A-Team.

Jacob ponders my request for so long, I worry that he’s going to turn me down. Finally, he comes up with his answer.

I’ll do it, on one condition.

My own words coming back to haunt me. I crinkle my nose. What is it?

I start tonight. So, you have to fire The Pornstache now. And I get to watch.

Yikes. I’ve never fired anyone. Besides, it’s up to Jaz…isn’t it?

It’s not—I mean, I don’t actually… I stammer.

Come on, Robson. Have some balls, he taunts. Unless you want to do the game write-ups yourself? We all know what a success that was.

Clearly Jacob has never heard the saying about catching more flies with honey.

Okay, I’ll try. But I have to clear it with the editor-in-chief first.

Jacob sniffs. The guy that fired you? Good luck.

I smile as I tap out a message. Nope. New editor-in-chief too. It’s a real house-cleaning.

Five minutes later, I have both Jaz’s blessing and detailed instructions. Jacob directs me to a so-called press box, where Joey is sitting on the edge of a table, chatting with a few guys who I presume cover the other teams in the tournament.

Joey spots me, and his lip curls. His gaze travels over Jacob with zero recognition.

Surprised to see you here, Andy. Didn’t you learn that a woman’s place is not in the hockey rink? He laughs at his own dumb joke.

I have something to tell you… I curse the quaver in my voice, but this is tougher than I anticipated. I don’t like hurting people.

Joey leers at me in my team jersey. Oh, did you need directions to the Mustangs dressing room? Your boyfriend want a quickie before the game? He points. It’s thattaway. The other guys all snicker at my expense.

Wait, why am I worried about hurting the feelings of the guy who stranded me the moment I became the sports editor? Who offends womankind every time he opens his mouth? Who is trying to bring back really awful seventies facial hair?

I straighten my spine. When I speak, my voice is strong and clear. Actually, Joey, I’m here to tell you that I’m back as the sports editor. Thanks for keeping my seat warm, but your hack reporting is no longer required.

He slides off the table and stares at me in shock. What are you talking about? You don’t have the authority to get rid of me.