Page 3 of The Game She Hates

I breathe a sigh of relief when the pastor finally takes the stage and starts preaching. With everyone settled into their seats, including Robyn and me in our trusty back-row spot, I can feel a sense of normalcy returning.

One of the perks of belonging to a small church is the familiarity and ease of conversation with just about everyone. But I’d rather be invisible today. I could see the worry etched on people’s faces as they asked how I was doing. Rumors about my supposed appendix removal spread like wildfire, adding a bizarre twist to my heartbreak. I wonder if any of this was Robyn’s fault. She had received so many questions about me and might have let people think the worst had happened.

From my vantage point, I spot Duke in the front row, his hair slicked back with what must be a gallon of hair gel, and his arm draped casually around Kate. That familiar pang of jealousy rears its ugly head once more. How is it that I still feel like I should be the one by his side, not her? I barely know the guy beyond our initial coffee shop chat, when I let my imagination run wild with visions of our future together.

Robyn catches my gaze and nudges me in the ribs with her elbow. “Stop ogling them like that,” she whispers. And she’s right. I’m completely distracted, and that’s not why I’m here.

As the pastor concludes his sermon, he invites anyone with prayer requests to come forward. It’s a quaint tradition, where we pray for various needs, usually revolving around sickness or financial struggles. Nobody ever comes forward asking for prayers because their heart is broken, pleading for divine intervention after a member of the worship team stole the man they fancied. No, that scenario only happens in my melodramatic mind.

After a few prayer requests, to my utter shock, Kate and Duke stand up and grab the mic. I’m casually sipping water, minding my own business, when Kate drops the bombshell. “Duke and I got engaged yesterday. We’d love prayers and help planning our wedding. Since neither of us has family here, we want to include everyone in this church family on our journey.”

I nearly spit out my water in disbelief. Engaged? Robyn wraps her arms around me, sensing my distress. I’m starting to hyperventilate. Something is seriously off. The room starts spinning, and I’m suddenly feeling queasy. Maybe I do need some prayers too because what exactly does she mean by engaged?

“Take deep breaths, P. It’s going to be okay,” Robyn reassures me.

“No, it’s not okay. They met two months ago. How can they be engaged now?” I blurt out, my mind racing.

“Don’t look at me. You’re the hopeless romantic here,” she shakes her head.

“But how is this possible? Did you have any clue about this? Is that why you insisted on me coming today?” I ask, desperation creeping into my voice.

“I would never do that to you. Plus you’re closer to Kate than I am, and if you had no idea, you can bet I wasn’t in the know either.”

It’s true; I’ve been keeping up the friendships for both of us. But now, could Kate and I even remain friends after this? It’s unfair to her how I can’t help but resent her for liking the same guy I did and winning him over. Nothing is her fault, but jealousy has been a disease that’s made my life all too hard and far too complicated.

When we make our way out of the church, I steer Robyn toward the nursery side, eager to avoid any congratulatory encounters with Kate and Duke.

“Let’s slip out through the nursery side. I can’t handle pretending to be happy for them right now,” I say, tugging at Robyn’s arm. But as always after church, I see her scanning the parking lot. She’s definitely checking to see if Kendrick came to church today. Like everyone in this town, Robyn is an avid hockey fan and the coach of her favorite team is a close friend of mine. He also happens to attend our church. I squeeze her arm tightly. “No, Robyn, not this time. Please, we have to go.”

“But, P, just imagine the seat he’s gonna hook me up with for next week’s game. Please?”

“I’ll give you his number, and Kendrick can sort you out next week,” I promise, exasperated. “Just not here, okay?”

“I’m begging you P. I just saw his Mercedes-Benz S-Class. And you know he simply adores you. If I ask him and we’re together, he has no choice but to give me a free ticket,” she pouts.

I roll my eyes. I don’t understand people and their addiction to sports. Robyn is the weirdest of them all. She’ll go to a game, have the time of her life, and then come back home to watch a replay of that same game. If I were a sports junkie, hockey would be the last sport I’d want to watch. It looks so scary to me—people skating and slamming into each other for a living.

Before I can change her mind, I hear Kendrick’s voice behind us. “Pearl Davis. Just the girl I wanted to see.” I turn to meet his tall, sturdy frame, his broad shoulders hinting at years of athleticism. Despite his age, which is only apparent in his salt-and-pepper hair, he carries himself with vigor. Behind wire-rimmed glasses, his warm hazel eyes shine with kindness. He’s dressed in a navy jacket over a crisp button-down shirt.

I catch Robyn’s wide grin in my peripheral vision. “Hi, Kendrick, how is Gabe?” I ask, realizing it’s been a while since I checked in on his son. He adopted Gabe from the child foster care system, and I had the privilege of working with Gabe for six months as his therapist. Despite the progress he made, Kendrick’s tone leaves me concerned—perhaps there’s been a setback in Gabe’s mental health.

“Gabe is fantastic,” Kendrick responds with a proud smile. “He’s become such a great communicator, and Lisa and I only have you to thank.”

I offer a shy smile. “No need. He’s a great kid who just needed the right support. I’m glad he found you.”

“You’re always so sweet, Pearl,” Kendrick remarks. “But I wanted to ask you something, more like a favor than anything.”

“Anything for you, Kendrick,” I reply without hesitation.

“Remember you said that in a minute,” he says, glancing around to ensure privacy. Robyn takes a tiny step back, respecting his unspoken request. “So I have this guy on my team. He’s carrying a lot of childhood baggage that’s holding him back. He’s closed off and refuses to let anyone in. Maybe you could work with him?”

I realize I might have misjudged Kendrick’s request. “I’m sorry, Kendrick. I’m strictly on the pediatric side of things. I don’t work with adults, and definitely not athletes. But I promise to find a counselor for him.”

He adjusts his glasses and leans in closer to me, as if about to share a secret. But, his years of coaching haven’t honed his whispering skills. “Ortiz doesn’t need another counselor. He’s been through them all, and they all focus on the sport and behavior on the ice. But that’s not where the problem lies. I think he needs someone like you.”

From behind me, Robyn interjects excitedly, “Did you say Zane Ortiz? The star center of the Glaciers?” Kendrick’s expression shifts with disapproval at her recognition.

“Yes, that’s him. But this is confidential, Robyn. I know you’re a hardcore fan. I’m sorry you overheard it,” Kendrick says, glancing at Robyn apologetically.

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