Page 106 of On the Power Play

Jack exhaled. If he was getting it from a pharmacy, he was definitely stealing from someone. Probably someone close to him. He wished he’d paid more attention to Liam’s situation. "Well at least you're not a dummy." Jack ran a hand through his hair. "Have you told the coaches?"

Liam swore under his breath. "No, and if you?—"

"I'm not going to nark, but the NHL has resources."

Liam shook his head. "I don't want them to know. It'll brand me."

Jack didn't argue with him. Not because he thought it was true, but because he didn’t think he could convince him it wasn’t. "I've got a friend you can reach out to. He's in recovery. Good guy, plays Elite League."

Liam nodded, blinking like he had a piece of dust in his eye.

"If you're ready, he'll help you get healthy."

Liam looked up with red-rimmed eyes. His throat worked, but he didn’t say anything. They stood there on the step, the Sunday afternoon sunshine warming their faces. Jack thought about Kreviasuk getting in Liam’s face. Coach Novak pointedly leaving his name out of the praise he’d given after the game. Monahan laying into him. His lack of shifts.

His stomach twisted. Liam using prescription meds was shooting himself in the foot, but nobody latched themselves to a sinking ship when they thought they could swim. “I’m going to talk to the coaches.”

“Shit, Jack?—”

“Not about the pills. About their coaching strategy. The way they’re handling this isn’t helping. You need more opportunities, not less. I’m telling you now so you can get your head out of your rear and take this seriously.”

Liam sucked in a breath. “You’ll send me your friend’s number.”

“Right. You better be in contact with him in an hour or less.”

He nodded. “I will.”

Jack pulled out his phone and searched up Brett’s number. “Nobody can make this happen for you, but you better believe I’ll be crawling up your ass if Brett tells me you’re ghosting him.”

Liam breathed a laugh. “Got it.”

Jack sent the text with Brett’s number, but before he could say anything else, the front door flew open behind him. "Hey! Look who the cat dragged in!" Monahan greeted Jack and Liam, then ushered them into an airy foyer with gleaming wood floors and walls the colour of Caribbean sand.

They walked through a spacious living area to a kitchen three times the size of Clara's with an island filled with platters of gourmet sandwiches and charcuterie. And a sushi station. Jack was suddenly twelve years old tagging along with his parents to a cocktail party.

Nils pushed his blond hair out of his eyes as he reached for a cornichon. "Mr. Popular has arrived. Now the party starts, eh?"

Jack shrugged. "I can't help it if everyone wants a piece of me." Two weeks ago that comment would've cut, but he'd been on the scoresheet Thursday and spent the last two days with these guys. They'd already gotten the digs about him and Delia out of their system. Nobody had heard anything about Beefus. The rumours about free agents had gone underground. Jack didn’t know if that was because the team valued him or if the other shoe was about to drop.

They knew he was a publicity hire. Had his goal not gone viral, he wouldn’t have even been on Alex’s radar. Jack never pretended to be anything he wasn't, and that was enough for the boys to let him in. Nathan never pretended his knees didn't hurt. Gaudreau didn't pretend he wasn't an asshole. Nils never pretended to enjoy brie more than larb.

Jack glanced at Liam grabbing a beer from the fridge. Now they had one more player that was willing to show his face. He hoped to hell he hadn't taken anything that morning, but knew the odds weren't in his favour. He needed to text Brett ASAP.

"I saw a stat this morning I thought you might like." Tkachuk put two pieces of sushi in his mouth and chewed.

Jack reached for a plate. "If this goes back to you being pissed Iginla didn't make the top one hundred?—"

"No. Better." He swallowed, the lump visible as it travelled down his throat. "Thursday you took seven more shots, made an assist, and spent five more minutes of penalty time than usual."

"And?" Jack selected a roast beef sandwich and a handful of All Dressed chips.

"Better stats than your other appearances. More hotheaded. Some people say it's because Delia was in the stands."

"Well, no shit." Jack grinned, and Tkachuk laughed, showing off his missing incisor. He added more food to his plate. Had her appearance at the game really impacted his play that much? A little disconcerting. His pulse sped as he took a bite of a sandwich.

Tomorrow. The word slammed on repeat in his head. He would see Delia after the game, and then . . . what? He reminded himself of all the clues that led to him believing she was on the same page as him. She reached out when she didn't have to. She kissed him when no cameras were looking. She'd said yes to Edmonton. This had to be more than the contract for her now, too.

Shame and confusion washed over him as he made his way down the buffet line. What would Angie think of this? Him standing with his teammates parsing out signals from a girl he'd agreed to have a fake relationship with. He'd signed a contract. Touched her, kissed her in public to advance his career. To solidify a spot on an NHL team that may not even be interested in him come June. And now he’d gone and wanted more.

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