Page 4 of Playmaker

I’d proven in Seattle that I could still play hockey even after I’d retired from competition. My dad’s name hadn’t racked up those points or defended our zone. I had, and I would again.

Hockey mattered to me. Women’s hockey mattered to me and to the fans. For the next four years and hopefully longer, I would play like I was worth the contract I’d signed. Because Iwas.

My dad would just have to make peace with that.

“Did you kick this Hamilton chick’s puppy or something?” Zoe called out from the couch in our barely unpacked Pittsburgh condo.

I looked up from making myself a protein shake. “Huh?”

She held up her phone. “Lila Hamilton. She just did an interview, and… meow.”

“Seriously?” I picked up my shake and moved into the living room. I eased myself onto the couch, legs still aching from this morning’s workout and from moving boxes and furniture around. Zoe scooted closer to me, and she restarted the video as she held up her phone so I could see.

In front of a Pittsburgh Bearcats backdrop, Lila Hamilton stood in a team hoodie and a backwards baseball cap.

My first thought was… Wow. Someone had a glow-up since Juniors. I mean, I’d played with her at the Olympics and I’d seen her around the League. I’d played against her last season. But that didn’t mean I’d stopped to look at her or anyone else. The regular season and playoffs were absolute chaos. I’d gone to the gym in mismatched socks like three times during the postseason. When I was focused on hockey, I missed things.

And apparently one of the things I missed was that Lila Hamilton was seriously hot now. She’d been cute back in Juniors and the times I’d seen her since. Today, though? Whoa. Her blond hair, which she used to wear in a single long braid during games, was shorter now, the ends just brushing past her collar. Her sleeves were rolled up enough to reveal the elaborate tattoos covering her forearms. Long, dark eyelashes framed intense blue eyes above skate-sharp cheekbones, and she had those slim, perfect lips I could just stare at for ages.

Playing alongside her, you’d think I would’ve figured out sooner that I was a lesbian. That came with the territory, though, of not only hyper-focusing on hockey, but of being told all my life only lesbians played hockey. Years of defensively telling everyone“I amnota lesbian!”had convinced myself for a good long time.

I sure knew now, though, and that woman was just… wow.

Until she started talking, anyway.

Her first few answers were benign and pleasant enough. She was excited to be in Pittsburgh. Her knee was much better now. She was happy to be playing with some of her previous teammates.

That last question prompted a reporter to ask, “What are your thoughts on Sabrina McAvoy as an addition to the team?”

Lila’s media training slipped for a second, her neutral expression allowing disgust and annoyance through, but she quickly schooled it away. “I’ve only played with her a few times, so I don’t really know what she’s like as a teammate. She’s good, though.” Lila half-shrugged. “Hopefully she’ll bring what she did in Seattle to Pittsburgh.” Her smile was frosty. “At the end of the day, I don’t care what name is on someone’s jersey. I care how they handle the puck and work with the team.”

Zoe whistled even though she’d already watched it once. “Damn. You think the PR team is going to let that slide?”

“Probably,” I muttered into my protein shake. Truth was, the commentcouldbe interpreted as a dig, but it could also just be read as someone saying the most important thing was a cohesive team that worked together. Which was true; few things threw off a team like one person trying to be the solo star.

But on the heels of her mask slipping… I suspected it was a dig.

I just rolled my eyes. “Well, this will be a fun season.”

“At least she won’t be on your line.”

There was that. Lila played defense and I played offense. Though she would probably be on the top D pair and I would most likely be a top six forward, which meant a lot of minutes per game for both of us, and a lot of overlapping shifts. And Lila was almost always on her team’s top power play unit. So was I. So… yeah, we’d be playing alotof the same minutes.

Still, that only meant interacting on the ice. We didn’t have to be friends the rest of the time. There’d be plenty of other teammates I could hang out with, including a few I’d played with in the past.

If Lila didn’t like me or had some kind of issue with me—if she bought into the idea that my name was the only reason I wore any team’s jersey—fine. She wouldn’t be any worse than my dad when it came to accusing me of nepotism, and at least she took women’s hockey seriously.

At the end of the day, I knew I was good. I had the stats and the accolades to prove it. Hannah and Chloe also knew I was good. They’d both pursued me from the moment they’d been hired on in Pittsburgh.

It didn’t matter if I was a McAvoy. I was a hockey player, and I was a damn good one.

Lila Hamilton could die mad about it.

Chapter 3

Lila

Two weeks before training camp started, the Pittsburgh Bearcats ownership threw a party for players and their families. They’d rented out one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city, and by the time I arrived, there were already three news vans parked outside.

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