Page 11

11

JP

I’m on my way to yoga class.

Things have been busy with a bunch of road trips—San Jose, Phoenix, Dallas, Vancouver, with home games in between. I wanted to go to another class, but with games every Saturday for the last three weeks, I haven’t been able to. I hate to admit it, but I liked the way I felt after the class and without Harrison there showing off for the instructor, maybe I’ll be able to focus even more.

Although Taylor in tight leggings and a bra top is hella distracting.

I sigh. She’s not the reason I want to go to another yoga class. Seriously. I don’t even know if she’ll be there. The last time I saw her, she was broken up about her parents’ marriage ending, crying her eyes out. I’ve had a hard time not thinking about that over the last month, wanting to get hold of her somehow to see if she’s okay. I considered texting or calling Lacey to ask but knew how she’d take that. I saw Everly once and managed to casually ascertain that she was “okay,” but that was it.

This is all about improving my game. So far this season I’m playing okay, but I know I can do better. It always takes a few games to get back into the swing of things—working out in a gym, even training camp and exhibition games can’t totally prepare you for the reality of a regular-season game. It’s hard.

We’ve lost a few games, and I’ve taken a few penalties. One of them, I’d take again—I likely saved us from a goal against us, and we managed to kill the penalty. I deserved a couple of them, they were dumb, but another was a fucking horrible call that just about made me lose my mind. Hence the yoga class.

I need to find my Zen. Or whatever.

This is the second year having my uncle as my coach and it’s stressful. I mean, he’s a good coach, but . . . he’s my uncle. I don’t want any special treatment, and I especially don’t want my teammates to think I’m getting any special treatment. I also don’t want them to be awkward around me when they’re pissed at Uncle Mark, which happens even though he’s a good coach. He’s tough and honest, but fair. And damn smart. I think every guy on the team feels like I do . . . we listen to him and do our best to give him what he asks of us. And I want to show him my best, not me breaking my stick and shouting obscenities at the ref. (I didn’t do that, but I wanted to.)

I park in the lot. Unlike last time I was here, it’s a beautiful sunny day, the sky a clear, cloudless blue, the ocean a deeper shade of cobalt. I stroll inside Makara Yoga, trying to feel chill, not hyper-alert on the lookout for Taylor.

She’s not here, and I’m not sure if I’m disappointed or relieved.

“Hi again,” Arya says to me with a friendly smile, clearly remembering me. “It took you a while to come back.”

“I’ve been away the last three weekends.” I have no idea if she knows who I am, but I tend to assume people don’t know me.

“Your friend’s not with you?”

“Not this time.” I grin. “And he’s not my friend.”

She blinks.

“Actually, he’s my uncle.”

She gives her head a confused shake. “Okay.”

“Yeah, we’re the same age. Weird family.”

“Hey, you’re not the only one!” She turns her attention to the rest of the group, and we start grabbing boards to carry outside.

Just as Taylor rushes in. “Sorry I’m late!” she says breathlessly to Arya.

“We’re just starting. Grab a board!”

It’s been a month since I saw Taylor. My breath sticks in my chest as I watch her. Her hair’s up in a messy knot on top of her head, and yeah, she’s wearing form-fitting pants again and a different bra top, this one lime green and black. She hasn’t noticed me yet. But, as if she feels my gaze on her, she turns and we lock eyes.

My blood fizzes in my veins. I manage a smile. “Hey.”

“Hi, JP.” She tilts her head. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh . . . yoga?”

“Smart-ass.”

I grin. I’m still fizzing, my chest filling with it. “Yeah. I wanted to take another class. This time I won’t have that clown Harrison distracting me.”

She laughs. “Yeah, he didn’t really seem into it.”

We follow the group outside and across the sand to the water. I’m going to focus on the yoga. Not on Taylor.

Apparently I’m the distraction, though, for others in the class, as women are whispering and eyeing me. I’m not the only male here; there are two other guys today, but I guess the women recognize me. I smile politely, then ignore them to follow Arya’s instructions.

Ignoring Taylor is easier said than done, but I use the focus I’ve learned from years of playing hockey to block out the things that take away my concentration.

“A main concept of yoga is being nonjudgmental,” Arya says when we’re out on the water. “Meaning both toward others and toward ourselves. A lot of our stress comes from being hard on ourselves.”

This strikes me as true.

“Our minds and bodies are one and connected,” she continues.

Okay, here comes the woo-woo stuff.

“Stress in one affects the other,” she adds.

Okay, this I know is true. The mind is powerful.

Determined to actually get something out of this, I focus on the various poses, starting with child’s pose and flowing through a series of movements including downward dog.

“On the paddleboard you have to be more mindful of your balance,” Arya says in a gentle tone. “Where your hands and feet are.”

It’s true, and that makes the focus even more important. One look at Taylor while doing Warrior 2 makes me wobble dangerously. I grit my teeth and resume my pose, trying to find that balance again and relax.

I leave the class feeling good. Nice and calm and relaxed. That’ll probably last until I get on the freeway.

Nonjudgmental toward myself and others. I won’t curse the stupid drivers on the freeway. Wait, that was judgmental. I mean, I won’t curse the drivers on the freeway.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Taylor says after we’ve taken our boards back. “I didn’t think you were really into this.”

“That was Harrison.” I throw him under the bus. “I felt good after, and I’m working on being more Zen.”

Her lips twitch. “Ah. That’s good. Did it work?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

“You’re ready for the party tonight, then.”

“Ah . . . yeah.” I eye her. “Lacey told you about it?”

“I’m invited.”

It’s Théo’s birthday party tonight. His birthday was last week, but Lacey planned the party for tonight, a Saturday night both the Condors and the Eagles are off. We’ve had three Saturday games in a row, now a few weeks into the season. “I hope Lacey knows what she’s getting herself into. The Wynn family parties are usually a bit . . . uh . . . well, you know what happened at the wedding.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh yeah.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine.” I’ll be on my best behavior. I can’t speak for everyone else. “How are you doing?” I ask, holding her gaze.

“I’m fine.” One corner of her mouth lifts, as we both remember how upset she was last time we saw each other. “I found a new place. I’m moving in next week, which is good because our house sold right away, and the new owners take possession November first.”

“Wow. Well, that worked out. What about Byron?”

Her eyes shadow and her eyebrows slope down. “Looks like—” Her voice catches and she stops.

“I told you I’ll take him.” My voice is low and intense. I’m pissed because she hasn’t contacted me about this when she’s clearly upset about it. “Why didn’t you let me know?”

“I, uh . . .”

“Where’s your new place?” I ask. “Is it an apartment?”

“Yes.” She bites her lip. “On Frampton Avenue.”

“I’m not sure where that is.”

She describes the location.

“That’s not far from my place at all.” I shake my head. “Come on, Taylor, this is a no-brainer.”

Our eyes meet in a sizzling, penetrating connection. She’s being stubborn about this because it’s me. It pisses me off. And makes my chest feel heavy.

She nods. “Okay.”

“How about we get lunch and we can talk about it?”

“Oh. Um, I’d better get home. Anthony and I are going to a movie premiere tonight.”

Anthony. Fuck. “Ooh, all Hollywood.” I try for a light tone, but it comes out with an edge.

Taylor’s lips tighten.

“I thought you were coming to the party.”

“We’re going to stop by for a bit. So, I’ll, uh, see you there.”

“Right. Okay.” I nod and watch as she hustles over to her car in the parking lot.

I blow out a gusty breath. Anthony’s going to be there. Okay, I said I was going to be on my best behavior. I may have an urge to punch the dickwad in the mouth, but I’ve just found my Zen . . . I’ll think happy thoughts, or imagine I’m floating on a paddleboard on the water . . . or something. It’ll be fine.

Later, when I get to the party, I have to park about ten blocks from Théo’s place. It’s hard enough to park near there with those tiny little side streets, and tonight, Pacific Avenue is lined with cars. I recognize some of them. Apparently, I’m late.

I hear noise coming from the house as I approach the door. People are outside on the terrace talking, there’s music playing, and a loud burst of laughter greets me as I open the door and step in. I rang the bell, but I don’t know if anyone heard it.

Lacey appears with a glass of wine in hand and a big smile. “Hi!”

“Hi, Lace.” We do a brief embrace. “How’s it going?”

“Ooookay.” She grimaces. “So far so good.”

I grin. “Good to hear. I’ll see if I can stir things up.”

She gives me an alarmed look.

“Kidding.” I hold up my hands. “I’m on my best behavior tonight.”

“Whew. Come on in. What can I get you to drink?”

The party is clearly casual, people in the kitchen, dining room, living room, and, like I said, spilling outside. There are more than just family members here; I recognize some of the Condors organization—Dave Martin, their coach; their new assistant GM, Scott Jermey; and a few players including Wyatt Bell, who lives in the same complex as Théo. I haven’t seen him since the wedding. He gives me a slitty-eyed scowl.

Right; I punched him in the face when he was trying to get Manny off me. I apologized to him that night, but he obviously hasn’t forgotten.

Then I see Taylor.

As I take the beer Lacey hands me, my eyes lock with Taylor’s across the open space. She’s talking to Everly in the living room. There’s a guy sitting beside her I don’t know.

Craptastic. That must be Anthony.

My insides twist up into knots. I can’t exactly cut and run. I greet Théo with a hug and backslap. I chat with him and Harrison and Wyatt for a few minutes, then make my way around to greet other family members—Mom and Dad are here, Uncle Mark, Grandpa and Chelsea. Eventually I wind up near Everly and Taylor.

Everly bumps me with her shoulder. “Hey. How’s it going, bad boy of hockey?”

The nickname bugs me. “I’m not a bad boy anymore.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “Since when?”

I don’t want to talk about this, especially in front of Taylor and her boyfriend. Gritting my teeth, I smile and extend a hand to him as Taylor introduces us.

“So cool to meet you,” Anthony says. “I’m a big hockey fan.” He looks around. “This is wild, being here.”

I look at Taylor. “We need to talk. About Byron.”

“What about Byron?” Everly asks.

I tell her about the plan.

“That’s a great idea!” she says. “Taylor, your new place isn’t far from JP’s. This’ll work perfectly.”

Taylor nods, her lips pressed together.

“Maybe Byron should come for a visit before he actually moves in,” I say. “I assume he’s housebroken.”

“Yes.” She gives a little eye roll. “He’s very well trained.”

“Okay, then.”

“I’ll pay for his food. And vet bills, of course.”

“Whatever.” It’s not like I can’t afford a few cans of dog food.

“Okay.” She beams. “This is really so much better than . . . than having to find a new home for him with people I don’t know.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re a hero.” Everly nudges me. She’s teasing, but I can see she’s happy too. She looks up. “Oh. I’d better go help Lacey with the food.”

She departs, and a blanket of awkwardness drops over Taylor, Anthony, and me. Well, I feel it, anyway. I want him gone. But it’s me who has to clear out.

I grin, trying to lighten the mood. “You’ll have to switch to being an Eagles fan now, since you’re practically in Long Beach.”

She rolls her eyes. “Never.”

I laugh. “Nice meeting you,” I say to Anthony. I turn to Taylor. “We’ll talk more about Byron, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you.”

I meet her eyes, hold her gaze for a couple of heartbeats, then nod and move away.

I walk outside, where I see Grandpa and Chelsea sitting. There are other people out here . . . Rosa and Marshall, neighbors of Théo’s, talking to Wyatt. But no other family members. Grandpa and Chelsea are by themselves.

I get it, but it annoys me, too.

I pull up an empty chair. “Hey there.”

“Hi!” Chelsea says with a smile. I lean over to kiss her cheek.

“Hello, kid,” Grandpa says. “Haven’t seen you in a while. You bring a young lady with you tonight?”

“No. Didn’t go well the last time I brought a date to a family function.”

“That’s because you were screwing over your brother.”

Ouch. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I haven’t been seeing anyone lately.”

“Unusual for you. From what I hear.”

Actually, it is. I just haven’t been interested lately. There were women at the Fan Fun Fest who were clearly interested. I’ve gone out with the guys a few times, and there are always women who want to hang out with hockey players. I’ve flirted a little, danced a couple of times, and bought a few drinks, but I haven’t done anything more than that. “Saving my energy for hockey,” I tell him.

“Ha! That’s a good one. My coach used to tell us not to have sex before a game.”

“Jesus.” I rub my forehead. “Thank Christ Uncle Mark doesn’t tell us that. I think they’ve debunked that old myth.”

“We always believed it,” Grandpa says sadly. “Of course, most of us just ignored it.”

Chelsea laughs.

“It’s time for dinner!” Lacey calls from the door onto the patio. “Just buffet style, so we’re all helping ourselves.”

I follow Grandpa and Chelsea into the house. Chelsea sticks close by Grandpa while they fill plates. My family may be pissed at Grandpa for allegedly stealing money, Grandpa may be mad at his sons for suing him, and they all may hate Chelsea because they think she’s a gold-digging opportunist, but everyone is respectfully letting Grandpa go first at the buffet.

Lacey hovers around, apologizing for using paper plates and napkins, making sure they have everything they need, then others move in. I head into the kitchen for another beer first.

The kitchen is still crowded with people, including Théo and Harrison. Without asking, Théo opens the fridge door and hands me a beer. I grin.

“You gotta make sure people talk to Grandpa,” I say to him in a low voice.

He sighs. “I know.”

“This family feud is bullshit,” Harrison mutters. “We need to do something about it. Can’t you get your dad to withdraw the lawsuit?”

I grimace and glance at Théo. “I don’t know. They seem pretty convinced that Grandpa stole money from them.”

“Why would he do that?” Harrison shakes his head.

Théo’s lips pinch together, but he says nothing.

“I don’t know.” I don’t want to get into it with Harrison, because I like him and we get along. “Maybe all of us should get together sometime and talk about what we could do.”

“What do you mean ‘all of us’?”

“Like . . . this generation. You, Noah, Asher, Everly . . . us . . . Riley. I doubt if we can get Jackson here, but maybe.”

Harrison purses his lips and nods. “I’ll talk to Everly about it. She’s like the boss of everyone.”

I laugh. “True.”

Taylor and Anthony appear.

“We’re on our way out.” Anthony extends a hand to shake mine. “Good to meet you, man.”

“Yeah.” I resist the urge to curl my lip.

He says goodbye to the others, then tells Taylor, “I’ll get the car, babe. Pick you up in a couple of minutes.”

“Okay, thanks.” She smiles at him as he leaves.

“You had to park in the next county too?” I joke.

She laughs. “Just about.”

“Give me your cellphone number. And we’ll get things sorted out with Byron.” She tells me her number, I enter it in my phone, and I immediately send her a text so she has mine.

“I still can’t . . .” She hesitates.

“It’s fine, Taylor.” Jesus. She sinks her teeth into that plump bottom lip and it’s all I can do not to swoop down and kiss it. I know how that lip feels . . . against mine. How she tastes . . . My entire body heats and tingles remembering. I have to curl my hand into a fist to resist reaching out to touch her. I want to stroke a hand down her silky hair and over her velvety skin. I want to assure her that Byron is going to be fine, even though he’ll be living with someone else.

She gives a small nod and looks up at me through her eyelashes. Electricity arcs between us and I feel a tug of desire in my groin. Oh for Chrissake.

Maybe this isn’t a good idea. I’m going to be tormented every time I see her. I’m being a dumbass, suggesting this. I know it’s for selfish reasons—I want to see her. But I fucking can’t.

Harrison and Théo are watching us.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” I murmur, setting a hand on the small of her back.

Her eyes flicker.

A minute. Just a minute alone with her. In the foyer, we pause. I gaze at her face, my eyes moving over her flushed cheeks and glittering eyes, lingering on her mouth. Heat crackles around us and I feel a tug of desire in my groin.

“Stop looking at me like that,” she whispers.

“Like what? Like I want to push you up against that wall and kiss the breath out of you?” I edge infinitesimally closer, barely at all, and she takes a step back, her breath hitching.

“Yes. Like that.”

“Then stop looking like you want me to.”

“I . . .” She swallows. “Don’t do this, JP.”

I sigh. “I’m not doing anything. I’m not going to hit on another guy’s girl. Again. ” I bite out the word, remembering how pissed I’d been when Manny jumped me at the wedding because he was jealous.

“Okay, good.” She nibbles her bottom lip. “We can still be friends . . . right?”

I stare at her incredulously. “Friends?”

“Sure. Because of Théo and Lacey.” A tentative smile touches her lips. “And Byron.”

My forehead tightens. “Uh . . .”

“If you’re going to look after my dog, we should at least be friends.”

“Friends,” I say again.

She smiles tentatively.

My heart is withering and shrinking in my chest.

This isn’t a shocker. She’s with someone else now. Why would I think we could be anything more than friends? I draw in a long breath through my nose and straighten my slumping shoulders. “Sure. Of course. Friends. Have fun at your Hollywood premiere.” I stretch my mouth into a smile before turning away from her.

Lacey’s in the kitchen and shoots me a nervous glance when I stalk in. I grab the beer I left on the counter and march through the living room to the doors to the patio. Everyone’s inside now, eating. I lean on the low wall and gaze out at the dark ocean as I tip the beer to my lips and chug down half of it.

Everything inside me is buzzing. I’m wired and edgy. I try to calm myself down, using some of the things I’ve learned about preparing for a game when the adrenaline is running high. Except I don’t really want to calm down. I want to punch something.

I draw in a long breath, let it out slowly, and raise the beer again.

“You okay, man?” Théo’s voice comes from behind me. He slaps a hand on my shoulder as he joins me.

“Yeah.”

“Something’s got your shorts in a twist.”

“I don’t like this shit about making good decisions. It’s too hard.”

Théo cracks out a fast laugh. “Not for me.”

“I’m not you.” The words come out on a growl.

Théo tips his head. “I know, man. And thank God, right? Sometimes going with your gut is the right thing to do.”

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Well, in fairness to myself . . . intuition has been shown to be information acquired through associated learning and stored in long-term memory, which is accessed unconsciously to form the basis of a judgment or decision.”

“What?”

“You learn things throughout your life.” He shrugs. “You hold that knowledge in your subconscious and use it unconsciously to make decisions. It’s not just letting emotion guide your decisions; there’s some factual basis for it.”

“Huh. So you’re saying I should go after Taylor?”

He chokes. “Uh . . . that’s what this is about?”

I drop my head forward. “Yeah.”

“She’s seeing that dude . . .”

“I know, I know.” My voice comes out like a snarl. “First I thought she was still with Martinez. Then I found out she wasn’t. Before I could move, I found out she’s dating Anthony Hipster.”

He chokes on a laugh. “Um, yeah. Well, shit. I didn’t know . . .”

“Seriously?” I lift my head to peer at him. “Lacey didn’t tell you about the wedding?”

“Okay, yeah, she did.”

“Asshole.” I punch his shoulder.

He laughs. “Guess it wasn’t that good with you. She found someone else pretty quick.”

“Sure, kick me when I’m down.” I exhale sharply. “I can’t stop thinking about her. And she wants us to be just friends.”

“Ouch.” He winces.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’d say it’s pretty clear. You gotta forget about her.”

“ That’s your advice?” I scowl.

“You know it’s the right thing.”

I nod reluctantly. I’m trying to do the right things. But it’s fucking killing me.