Page 2 of Playmaker

Gesturing back the way he’d come, he said, “Your mother’s almost done packing up your jerseys.” He tapped the top of the box he’d been carrying. “This has a few, too—we might need another box for them.”

I laughed. “Guess I held on to more of them than I thought.”

He smiled brightly, a hint of that proud look he’d given me after the medal ceremony at my second Olympics. “Of course you did. They’re important.” He tapped the box again. “I’m going to stick this in the garage with the others, but then how about we figure out lunch?”

My stomach grumbled; apparently I was hungrier than I’d realized. “Lunch sounds good. Do you want me to order something?”

“Nah.” He hoisted the box back into his arms. “I’ll throw together some sandwiches for everyone.”

“Sounds perfect. Thanks, Dad.”

He flashed me another smile, then disappeared into the garage to add the boxes to the small pile in there. As I watched him go, I managed a smile of my own. At least Pittsburgh meant I’d be closer to home; Bethesda was only about a four-hour drive, so it would be a lot easier for my parents to come to games.

I hadn’t wanted them to come all the way to Nebraska to help me move, but they’d insisted. Tomorrow, the movers would come for everything wehadn’tput into the U-Haul. Then Mom would ride in my car while Dad drove the U-Haul, and we’d make the trek to my new city. While I felt a little guilty thatthey were going to all this trouble, I was grateful for the help and the company. I was grateful my parents understood that I didn’t trust the movers with certain things, like my hockey stuff and some antique furniture they’d given me. And what could I say? Packing and moving were a lot less boring when I had my parents to chat with, or when they started pretending to have a light saber fight with some of my old hockey sticks before taking them down to the garage.

It was good to have them here, and it would be good to be able to see them more often.

As a bonus, maybe that would distract me from the fact that I’d be wearing the same sweater as Sabrina McAvoy for the foreseeable future.

The thought made me groan, and I swore as I continued packing up my medals.

Too bad there was no way in hell I’d be lucky enough for Pittsburgh to trade her. They wanted the prestige of a McAvoy on the roster, and they wanted the hockey magic they assumed was a guarantee from someone who shared DNA with two generational talents. Maybe they would trade me if I gave them a disappointing season, but there was no guarantee any other team would take me. I was as likely to wind up on waivers or in the minors.

Like it or not, I was stuck with Sabrina for as long as we were both in Pittsburgh.

I glanced down at the black brace around my left knee. At the tiny scar peeking out beneath one edge.

I sighed.

I’d try this season. I’d try to keep skating even when my knee ached like it did right now. I’d try not to lose my mind sharing the ice with Sabrina McAvoy. I’d try to pretend that I could cope with skating in someone else’s shadow. That hockey didn’t hurt.

And maybe after this contract was up…

Maybe after this year, if my knee demanded it…

Maybe it would finally be time to hang up my skates for good.

Chapter 2

Sabrina

Today was stressful enough without the sight of that familiar black Ferrari parked beside the moving van in my driveway.

I swore at my steering wheel and seriously debated finding a reason to not be here for a few hours, but I pulled up behind the car anyway. After all, I’d left my sister in charge of the move while I was at a doctor’s appointment, and while she was reasonably assertive with the movers, she was an absolute doormat for our father. Most people were. The last thing I needed was for Dad to take over and tell the movers to unpack and leave, and he was not above that.

I shut off the engine, paused for a moment to steel myself, and then got out and headed inside. I’d known when I’d come back to Buffalo after my contract ended in Seattle that it would suck living this close to my dad, and I’d been right. Good thing I was getting the hell out of here again.

Two movers were carefully maneuvering a desk through the kitchen toward the garage, so Dad hadn’t called off the move. Yet. I gave them a smile and a quick nod, then hurried past them to find Dad and Zoe.

As I came up the stairs to the second floor, Dad’s voice filtered down the hall, and I followed the sound.

“This is ridiculous,” he was saying. “It’s a waste of time, money, and my hard-earned reputation.”

“She’s earned her spot,” Zoe replied weakly. “Give her a chance. She’ll—”

“It’s women’s hockey.” Dad’s laugh was full of derision. “There’s nothing to ‘earn’.”

I rolled my eyes. Then I stepped into the main bedroom, where I found my sister and father standing amidst a sea of boxes. Zoe jumped, her face suddenly coloring as if she hadn’t been defending me. Dad turned to me, and his expression hardened. He was about to say something, but I spoke first.

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