Page 19 of Dirty Play

“Well, he can cry a river, build a bridge, and get over it. We’re Team Jess in this hospital room.”

“I’m an OG Team Jess girl right here.” I smile, grabbing all my stuff and closing out of the computer. “I’ll be back around in a bit. Remember to press the button if you need anything.”

Chapter 8

Cade

Lacing up my skates the morning of our last game of the season shouldn’t feel so depressing, but it does. Not only is hockey my outlet—and now it’s going to be less prevalent in my life for a while—but it’s also Trevor’s last game on the team before he retires, and that sucks.

It’s the end of an era, and damn, it’s sad.

When I first got drafted as a rookie to the New York Cyclones at twenty-one, Trevor was the first guy to really welcome me to the team. He made me feel like I was a part of something bigger, even if I didn’t actually get a lot of playtime. He was also the first to believe in me when I did finally get on the ice. It was at the end of a game when our goalie got injured, only eleven games into the season, and it was up to me to take his place. Trevor had the entire team backing me up, believing in me, and supporting me that first game—and every one after that.

I was scared shitless, but you wouldn’t have been able to tell because Trevor made me believe I was not only capable of doing this job but that I could be great at it. When we won the game 2-0 against Nashville, I blacked out the moment the buzzer went off.

Did I think we would win my first game out there? Hell no.

I felt like a baby deer on skates trying to walk out there on the ice—my pads felt like they were ten sizes too big. Add in the thought of going up against another team on live national television, and I was fucking terrified.

But he made me believe.

Did I think there was any possibility that we would not only win, but that I would get my first ever shutout?

Not in a million years.

Now, with his last game tonight, all I want to do is get him one last win. For everything he’s done for the team and everything he’s done for me.

Tossing my bag in my locker, I grab my phone off the bench to throw it in as well when a text pops up.

Kylie.

Fucking hell. Right as I go to throw it in without looking, a second text from her pops up, the words clear as day on my screen.

Kylie

I’m in town, let’s get together.

We need to talk about June.

Kylie has been bugging me since January to make plans to come home this summer. My brother Vince was able to get some time off of work and they want to throw an anniversary party for my parents. They’re celebrating the big 4-0. I told them I couldn’t make it because of work, but they quickly called me out on that bullshit. That’s the downside to being a professional hockey player—they know it’s the offseason and I’ll have no problem making it work.

Can’t, sorry. I have a game.

Kylie

I know, dipshit, I have your schedule.

Can’t miss the last game of the season! I already bought a ticket.

Son of a bitch.

Well then, I guess I’ll see you there.

Kylie

You bet your ass you will.

My little sister is… well, a typical little sister. Huge pain in the ass, but a heart of gold. She’s used to getting her way and isn’t afraid to force the hand a bit if it helps her in the long run.

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