Page 78 of Playing the Pucking Game

Just stay where you are.

21

PARKER

“Drink and put it all behind you,” Brooke says, pushing two shots of tequila toward me.

I nod, wishing it was all that easy.

My mom called as I got back to my hotel room after the game. I’ve been avoiding talking to her for days. But my time hiding from her, from both of them, was over.

I fell back in my bed, swiped the screen, and set about confessing all my sins.

They were obviously concerned as I explained about the fire and losing my home and possessions, but as much as they tried to cover it, I could hear the disappointment in their tone, see it on their faces through the screen.

Disappointing them always hurts. They’ve always given us everything we could ever wish for, and yet I’m still fucking things up.

They offered to help me out financially, like I knew they would, but I told them I have it all under control. I hate taking money from them. I am an adult with a good job. I shouldn’t need bailing out, even if I know they have more than enough.

I also may have failed to mention that I’ve temporarily moved in with Linc.

I didn’t lie, not really, when I explained that I was living with a colleague while I get things sorted.

When Brooke knocked on my door, I wasn’t ready, and she took one look into my eyes and knew something was wrong.

I had little choice but to open up and tell her what was going on with my life right now.

We sat on the edge of my bed, and she silently listened to everything. She didn’t judge or tell me that I was stupid for not renewing my renters’ insurance; instead, she just gave me a hug. It reminded of Linc the night we discovered the fire. He knew what I needed and gave it to me.

That’s exactly how I feel as I take the shot from the bar, tap it against Brooke’s, and swallow it down in one.

“Oh my god,” I gasp as the liquid burns down my throat.

“So good,” Brooke says before reaching for the second glass. “Leah is on her way,” she says after checking her watch. “But she says she’s not drinking.”

I laugh, wondering how long that will last, before drinking my second shot.

The alcohol warms all the way down to my stomach, and I realize Brook is right. It is helping me forget.

We made the right decision to stay down here while the guys went up to the VIP section. I’ve had enough death stares from Linc today to last a lifetime.

I’m not stupid. I’m aware that letting him play tonight might have changed the result. But it was never going to happen.

He’s making progress, and I’m hoping with another two days of rest, I’ll be able to clear him for our next home game.

I keep telling myself that he’ll thank me in the long run, but I’m believing myself less and less.

It’s bearable while we’re on the road. I don’t have to see him all that much. But tomorrow, we’re going home. Back to his penthouse. Then what?

“How’s your foot holding up?”

I glance down at my sneakers. My foot has been throbbing all day, but I figure it’s got to be easier to deal with than some of the hits the guys took tonight, so I swallow the pain and keep moving forward.

“It’s fine.”

“You’re such a little liar.”

“Fine. It hurts. But it isn’t going to stop me from dancing.”