Page 4

FOUR

Blake

She’s still mad.

I stand there for a second after the elevator doors close feeling both disappointed and hurt.

It’s been nearly a decade since the night we broke up, but I guess she hasn’t forgotten. What I did. And how I did it. She’s moved on and isn’t even interested in being friends. Which is fine. I don’t have time for that shit anyway.

Except it’s Rowan.

She’s the standard no one else could ever live up to.

It’s embarrassing to admit, but I’d be an idiot to try to lie to myself.

It took me a long time to get over her, even though I fucked my way through every puck bunny in college. I thought hockey, sex, and parties would make up for what I’d lost, and by the time I realized it wouldn’t, it was too late.

“Crashed and burned, huh?” Bodi’s the only person in my life who knows how much I regret letting Rowan go. How much I regret hurting her.

But that ship has sailed and it’s time for me to come to terms with it.

“I was a jerk when we broke up,” I say with a shrug. “She obviously hasn’t forgotten or let it go. As long as she’s not openly hostile, I’m good. All I want to think about now is hockey.”

Bodi laughs. “Yeah, right.”

“Fuck off.” I shake my head as I get into the elevator. “Anyway, I’m going to order takeout and get to bed early. I need to be at a hundred and fifty percent for the game tomorrow.”

“You got that right.” He’s serious now. “Can you believe we’re here?” His voice is low, as if someone might hear even though we’re alone in the elevator.

“Not really.” I meet his eyes. “We absolutely cannot fuck up. This is our shot. I mean, it’s my shot. You’re younger so you still have time but?—”

“I’m twenty-four. Do I technically have time? Sure. But is it likely? No. Guys are getting to the NHL at eighteen now. Look at Brooks. He’s living the dream and he’s barely old enough to shave.”

We chuckle together even though it’s not funny.

The possibility of moving out of the minor league permanently is slim to none. The only reason we’re here is because of a horrific accident. Otherwise, we’d still be home in Phoenix, trying to figure out where we’re going to work in the off-season, so we don’t starve.

There’s a gym near our apartment where I fill in now and then, because we don’t make enough money to get through the off-season without some kind of supplemental income. We can’t get regular jobs because of the schedule once the season starts, so I work as many hours as possible in the summer but Bodi hasn’t had good luck with summer jobs. Last summer, he delivered pizza.

Sometimes it’s embarrassing.

The money isn’t terrible, but it’s not even in the ballpark of what the Phantoms make. Hell, playing one game per season with the Phantoms earns me more than my entire year’s salary on the Rebels. It’s that bad. So it makes sense that I’m considering retirement. One more season will put me just shy of thirty, and at that point, why risk a serious injury when I could make more money doing something else?

Something I won’t love as much but at some point, you have to give up on fairy tales and dig into the real world.

“I’ll be up for a while if you feel like talking,” Bodi says. “Otherwise, I’ll see you at breakfast.”

“I think I’m going to veg,” I say. “Eat something, watch a movie, and sleep. I don’t want to think about anything except hockey.”

He looks like he’s going to say something sarcastic—I can tell by the glint in his eyes—but then he surprises me and just claps me on the shoulder.

“That sounds like a good plan. I’ll talk to you later.” He turns to the right and I go left. Not sharing a room is nice, one of many things that I consider an improvement when you hit the big time.

The only question now is keeping it.

I’ve just reached my room when I hear movement behind me and I turn to see Rowan coming up the hall, a bucket of ice in her hands. Our eyes meet, and I nod.

She nods back and then slips into her room.

Which is right next to mine.

Great.

So much for a relaxing evening.

Knowing she’s in the hotel somewhere is one thing.

Knowing she’s just a few feet away, but won’t talk to me, is somehow incredibly frustrating.

I don’t know what I was expecting.

I honestly had no expectations.

I knew I was going to see her.

I knew it might be awkward for a minute, but the plan had been to apologize for being an immature ass when I was eighteen and ask if we could be friends.

She’s made it clear that’s not going to happen.

And for whatever reason, it really bothers me.

I’m one of the first guys down to breakfast and I sink down next to Canyon and Chandler Cormier.

“Mornin’.” Canyon grins. “How’d you sleep?”

I wobble my hand back and forth. “Good, I guess, but not great. I tossed and turned a lot.”

“Nerves.” Chandler nods. “Happens to all of us.”

“Not usually me,” I admit, “but I’ve never played in an NHL playoff game before.”

“It’s just another game,” Canyon says quietly. “You can’t think of it as this huge event, even if it is, because that will fuck with your head. Trust me on that.”

“Morning.” Bodi slides into the chair next to mine.

“How’d you sleep?” Chandler asks him.

“Like a baby!” He grins.

Asshole .

“You’ll need that rest,” Chandler says, eating a bite of eggs. “I get the feeling it’s going to be a long series.”

“You think?” I cock my head curiously. “How come?”

“I dunno.” He shrugs. “I usually have a feeling before a series, and I’m right ninety-nine percent of the time.”

“I don’t know if that’s good or bad.” Bodi grimaces, and then we all chuckle.

I get up, heading to the buffet to pour myself a cup of coffee when I see Rowan come in with a couple of women. The tall redhead is Bristol Carpenter, the head of Media Relations for the team, but I don’t know the other two at all. One of them is really gorgeous, and vaguely familiar, so I figure she’s someone’s wife, and sure enough, Canyon gets up and goes over to kiss her.

The gorgeous ones are always taken.

For the first time, it occurs to me that Rowan might have a boyfriend, and I don’t know what I’ll do if I see her with a guy. It’s completely irrational, but I can’t help it, and I quickly turn away, focusing on my coffee.

Now that I’ve got it in my head she might have a boyfriend, I can’t seem to think about anything else.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

Canyon’s girlfriend joins us at our table, but Rowan and Bristol go sit by themselves at a table for two.

“Guys, this is my girlfriend, Saylor. Babe, this is Blake and Bodi.”

“Nice to meet you.” She smiles. “Your goal in the last game was awesome, Bodi.”

“You watched?” he asks in surprise.

“Sure. Canyon and I try to support the minor leaguers whenever we can.”

“Nice to hear.” They start talking hockey, and I make my way over to the waffle station. I need protein, not carbs, but I suddenly feel the need for comfort food.

And of course, Rowan and Bristol come to stand in line behind me. There’s a chef making the waffles, putting whatever you want on them, and there are a few people ahead of us.

“Morning, Blake.” Bristol smiles.

“Hey, Bristol. Rowan.”

“Good morning.” Rowan barely looks up from whatever she’s doing on her phone.

“There’s a photo and video shoot scheduled at noon,” Bristol tells me. “I don’t know if you got my email. This just came up so I apologize for the late notice, but there’s a lot of press happening now because of the accident, so we’re doing a series of videos on how you guys are coping. The aftermath of the accident, being called up unexpectedly, traveling so far to Alaska, stuff like that. They’re going to get half of you in the training room, and the rest of you on the ice. Check the schedule I mapped out, please.”

“Sorry about that.” I pull out my phone and realize there are a slew of texts and emails I didn’t think to check. “I didn’t realize there was anything planned.”

“Like I said, there wasn’t, but now there is.” Her phone rings and she turns then quickly walks out of the room.

“Bristol sends a lot of emails and texts,” Rowan says. “You need to pay attention because she’s very organized and expects all of you to be on time when she needs you to make appearances or whatever.”

“Got it. I appreciate the head’s up because things are a lot more mellow on the Rebels. We do some promo and photo shoots at the start of the season, around Christmas, and if we make it to the playoffs. That’s about it. And Barry, the guy who runs PR for the team, usually just swings by the locker room and lets us know what’s what.”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna cut it with the Phantoms. There’s always a lot going on, and never more so than now. We haven’t been in the playoffs in over a decade. This is a huge deal.” She lifts her gaze to mine, studying my face intently. “I hope you know just how special this is. For the team and the players.”

I’d forgotten about that aspect of it.

Which is stupid.

I need to be paying attention to the details, not feeling sorry for myself because my ex doesn’t like me anymore.

“I do,” I say finally. “It’s just a lot to get used to. I’ve only been called up a couple of times in the last few years.”

Something flickers in her eyes—sympathy? Regret? It’s hard to tell but it’s gone almost as quickly as it appeared.

“The team is counting on you,” she says. “We all are. Don’t fuck it up, Blake.”

I bristle. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know damn well what it means.”

We stare at each other for a moment.

I do know what she means.

All the partying in college.

It cost me a lot.

Grades.

A place on the team.

My shot at the NHL.

Everything that’s happened to me, for the most part, is my own fault.

But it stings coming from her.

There were extenuating circumstances sometimes, no doubt about that, but if I hadn’t been such a fuck-up in college things might have been different.

And no one knows that better than Rowan.

“Sir? Do you want a waffle?” The chef is talking to me and I turn, giving him my order.

I’m annoyed as fuck that she called me out like that. Just because it’s true doesn’t give her the right to say it. She wasn’t perfect either back then.

Except… she was.

Straight A’s.

A part-time job.

Doing stats for the hockey team.

Playing varsity volleyball.

Even volunteering at the local soup kitchen.

Not to mention being as hungry for sex as I was.

She was the perfect girl for me.

And I’d thrown it—and her—away.

Then I’d gone on to college and fucked around way too much.

I won’t do that again.

I may have blown my shot with Rowan, but I’ll be damned if I fuck up a chance like this with the Phantoms.

I turn back to Rowan, but she’s gone, sitting with Bristol, her back to me.

It’s probably for the best.

I have to get my head in the game, and thinking about her is a distraction I don’t need.