Page 21 of Playmaker

Chapter 21

Lila

Lunch in an off-the-beaten-path restaurant seemed to help shake Sabrina out of her funk.

Some light practicing in the arena went a long way, too. There were a handful of other players on the ice, including one who’d brought her husband and kids out to hit some pucks back and forth. The rink was hardly crowded, though, and I was so focused on what we were doing, I mostly forgot there were other people here at all.

Focused on what we were doing?

Yeah, right.

As Sabrina and I played a low-key game of keep away, I was completely focused on her, and not just because I was trying to steal or hold on to the puck. I was mesmerized by the way she was laughing as we battled it out. The way she’d cackle when she stole the puck and fired it into the empty net? That way she’d try to look aggravated when I got the upper hand, but she couldn’t quite hide her smile? Her happiness, especially after seeing her so rattled and frustrated with Ty, made me happy.

“Oh, come on!” she called after me as I swiped the puck off her stick. “That was a cheap shot!”

“What?” I skated around behind the net and flashed her a grin. “It was just a poke-check!”

“Uh-huh.” She glided toward me. “So I just imagined the slew-footing?”

I half-shrugged. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“Bitch,” she muttered, but she was smiling.

The low rumble of an engine met my ears before I had a chance to snark back, and I turned to see the Zamboni pulling up to the gate. I glanced up at the clock and realized it was almost 3:30.

I nodded toward the Zamboni. “Guess we should get out of here.”

We gathered up the pucks we’d been using and a few stray ones littering the ice. Once those were gone, we headed for the locker room to shower and change, and I was pleased that Sabrina was still smiling and chirping like normal. All traces of her encounter with her ex-husband were gone.

Mission accomplished.

Get wrecked, Ty, I thought as we stripped off our gear. You have no power here.

Her mood held as the day went on, so I was confident she’d shaken it off. We relaxed in our room for a while, then put on our suits and returned to the arena for the All-Star tournament.

This time, I could only go with her as far as the players’ entrance. I’d be spending the game in the stands along with some of the spouses and families.

Outside the entrance, I turned to her. “You going to be okay? After earlier?” I’d been hesitant to bring it up and remind her of it, but I wanted to be sure.

Her smile deserved to be on magazine covers. “I’m good. Honestly, everything with him feels like it happened ages ago. So… thanks for that.”

“Don’t mention it.” The impulse to draw her in and kiss her was almost irresistible.

I recovered, though, and I cleared my throat. “Well, good luck out there.”

That smile. Fuck me.

“Thanks. Enjoy the show.”

Oh, I would. As long as Sabrina was out there on skates, doing what she did best, I would definitely enjoy the show.

And maybe spend some of the time figuring out how to shut off the part of my brain that kept whispering “Kiss her” every time she looked my way.

A number of players from the men’s league were out on the ice in their jerseys and skates with the All-Star competitors. Not all of them were here just to promote our league on behalf of theirs. Two of the guys beamed as they talked about how proud they were of their wives—one was married to Cleveland’s goalie, the other to Vancouver’s star center. A defenseman from Chicago cradled his infant son against his jersey while he raved about his fiancée and how she was definitely going to win the hardest shot competition. It was seriously cute.

Ty was down there, too, and like the others, he was interviewed, his face projected onto the Jumbotron for all to see. He plastered on his fake smile to talk about how excited he was at the prospect of Houston getting a WHPL team.

The whole time, he looked deliciously miserable. Every time the reporter started to speak, he seemed to brace a little as if he were expecting an uncomfortable question. Probably one about his ex-wife, her performance, and her selection to the All-Stars.

I was glad the reporter didn’t ask about Sabrina. I didn’t care at all if Ty was uncomfortable, but Sabrina didn’t deserve to have her relationship picked apart as tabloid gossip. Especially since she was right there —she and another forward were warming up for fastest skater, which was the next event in the skills competition.

Eventually, the reporter moved on to someone else, and Ty became another face in the crowd around the edges of the ice. On the screen now was Alex McDaniels, who had retired a couple of years ago and was married to Nichole Manning, captain of Omaha. He was wearing the jersey of his old team, Kansas City, as part of the city’s campaign for a WHPL team. As he was interviewed, he held his ten-month-old baby, and the whole arena was practically swooning over how cute they both were. Especially how cute he was as he gushed about his wife.

“I’m real proud of her,” Alex said with a big smile as he bounced the baby gently on his hip. “I mean, she had him, and like six months later, she’s at training camp.” He shook his head and laughed. “I’d have needed another year , and I definitely wouldn’t have made the All-Stars my first season back.”

Some of the guys behind him were nodding in agreement.

Everyone in the crowd chuckled at that. Alex had played through some pretty hardcore injuries in his career, so he wasn’t a wimp by any means, but he was clearly awed by Nichole’s recovery. We all were—here I was thinking I’d come a long way after my knee surgery, and here she was racking up points and dominating the ice a few months after pushing out a whole human.

The interviews ended, and everyone except a handful of skaters and officials moved to the side of the ice to make room for the fastest skater event. Sabrina was among the competitors, and she skated some lazy circles while she waited for the event to start.

My heart thumped as I watched. I’d done the backwards skating competition in the exhibition at the men’s All-Star weekend a couple of years ago, and I’d been stressed as hell about that. Like any defender worth her salt, I could skate backwards all day long, but with a timer and that many people watching? It was seriously intimidating.

Come on, Sabrina. You can do this.

The first two skaters notched impressive times. 14.121 and 14.629. Not bad at all.

The third wiped out on a corner. I grimaced sympathetically as she got up and dusted herself off. She’d hit the boards when she went down, but she didn’t seem any worse for wear; probably more frustrated than anything.

Sabrina was fourth. My pulse pounded even louder in my ears. The only thing worse than going right after someone with an incredible time was going after someone who’d fallen. The sight of someone going down could get stuck in a skater’s head, make them second guess themselves or hesitate at the worst possible moment.

I pressed my hands together in front of my lips and held my breath as Sabrina glided up to the starting line.

Come on, come on, you can do this. You’ve got this.

The whistle blew, and she took off. She flew down the straightaway and whipped around the curve like a speed skater, her hand out and fingers nearly grazing the ice as she rounded the first corner, then the second. She powered down the longer straightaway, the crowd roaring as she raced the clock along the boards, then around the end of the ice, before giving everything she had in the final stretch to the finish.

In a blink, it was over, and her time flashed on the Jumbotron: 14.016.

I screamed along with the crowd. There were still two competitors left, but she’d bumped the leader into second place. It wasn’t even that much of a surprise—Sabrina was one of the fastest skaters I’d ever seen—but it was a relief. She’d stayed on her skates, and she’d beaten at least three people.

As the crowd settled down, the next skater took her mark. Like Sabrina, she stayed up, but she was no match for Sabrina’s time. She crossed the finish into fourth place with 15.001.

The final player was Eevi Heinonen, a Finnish forward who couldn’t have been more than five feet tall. She was only nineteen, a rookie playing for Denver. An All-Star as a rookie? That was impressive.

She took her mark, and when she sped off the line, I was genuinely surprised flames didn’t shoot out from her skates. Holy shit. She zipped around the first two corners like they were nothing, and her short legs didn’t hold her back at all on the straightaway. The crowd was absolutely roaring when she sped over the finish.

Her time? 14.001.

Sabrina was the first to congratulate her, almost toppling the tiny rookie in a huge hug. Heinonen stared up at the screen, her jaw slack as her name lit up at the top of the leaderboard. Then she smiled, and the rest of the skaters came up to congratulate her.

Sabrina didn’t look the least bit bothered that she’d been knocked into second place. I wouldn’t have been either; her time was perfectly respectable—hell, it was insanely fast—and it was seriously cool to see a kid perform that well against veterans.

Then everyone cleared off for the next event. I dropped into my seat, dizzy and breathless from watching and cheering for Sabrina. Not too long ago, I’d have been so salty that she’d made the All-Stars. I’d probably be watching at home, rolling my eyes and telling Faith, “I’m so glad she lost to that rookie,” while Faith rolled her eyes and told me I was an idiot.

Yeah. I was. But fortunately I wasn’t anymore, and I was here with Sabrina, watching this play out in person and cheering for her like a friend and teammate should. I might’ve been slow on the uptake when it came to her, but I got my head out of my ass eventually.

Not a moment too soon.

As Sabrina skated past the bench where some of the guys were hanging out, she locked eyes with Ty. Even from this far away, it was obvious when they made eye contact. He said something to her, and her smile vanished.

One of the guys with him gave him a sort-of-playful punch to the shoulder, then spoke to Sabrina as he herded Ty in another direction.

I gritted my teeth.

For fuck’s sake, dude. Can’t you just let her enjoy the event?

Of course he couldn’t. From everything Sabrina had told me, he was incapable of letting her enjoy something that didn’t involve or prioritize him.

Fucking asshole .

At least she’d been able to shut him down a couple of times since we arrived, but this time… Ugh. There were too many cameras around, too many fans watching; she didn’t dare make a scene, so she had to take whatever he said.

What a twat.

After that, the skills competition couldn’t wrap up fast enough. There were still several events—hardest shot, backward skating, trick shots—and they took for-fucking-ever while I squirmed and waited to be able to see Sabrina.

The minute things started winding down, I took out my phone. Sabrina would be tied up for a while—showering, media availability, maybe eating—so I texted her, Hey, are you good? I saw Mr. Douchewaffle talking to you.

It was about fifteen minutes before she replied, Yeah. He just made a snide comment about how our fastest skater wouldn’t even place against the men’s league.

“Are you kidding me?” I muttered into the night. I wrote back, What a jackass .

I know, right? She’s a rookie and she just won something she’ll be talking about for years. Why shit on that?

I rolled my eyes. She didn’t hear him, did she?

Fortunately, no. There was a pause, then, I kind of wish she had, LOL. I was chatting with her in the locker room and she’s spicy AF. She’d have made him wish he hadn’t been born.

At that, I laughed. Oh man. That would’ve been funny.

Right? Anyway, he’s just trying to be a dick. On-brand for him. WTF was I thinking when I married him?

You said it, not me.

The response was a middle finger emoji, and I snorted.

Then she said, Ok, gotta go talk to reporters. Should be done in about 30 min.

Sounds good. I’ll meet you outside.

I pocketed my phone and steadily made my way out of the stands with the rest of the crowd. I was glad Ty hadn’t made it too far under her skin. At least he hadn’t put a damper on her entire trip.

Maybe tonight, I could find a way to get him out of her mind entirely. Dinner out, maybe? Watch a game on TV or a movie? Hell, we could go to that ax-throwing bar down the road if she wanted to. I could probably even swing by the hotel’s office center and print out some pictures of his face to pin to a target.

I’d feel her out when we got back to the hotel. Whatever she wanted to do, I was down.

Because over my dead body was that asshole ruining Sabrina’s All-Star weekend.