Page 51 of Playmaker

The GPS piped up and told me to take an exit off the freeway. From there, it directed us into a neighborhood in Wexford wheresome of my teammates lived, and a few minutes later, we parked in front of Coach Reilly’s house.

Usually a teammate—the captain or one of the alternates, typically—would host holidays, but since this was our first year as a team, Reilly had insisted on hosting Thanksgiving. Most of us were still settling into our places, and a lot of us had smallish rentals that might not accommodate the whole team. Next season, once everyone was more situated, it would probably be at one of our houses.

I wondered, not for the first time, if I should buy a place here. I liked my team so far, and I liked Pittsburgh, but this all felt tenuous. Maybe because I’d spent my whole life thinking hockey was a breath away from getting yanked out from under me. What if the team didn’t stay in Pittsburgh? What if I was traded? What if I didn’t get extended, or the fans lost interest in women’s hockey and the whole league evaporated?

As I got out of the car and headed up the walk with Zoe, I wondered if anyone else on the team or in the League felt that way. If there was this constant certainty that we were a collective flash in the pan, and once the novelty wore off, this would all be gone.

Given the ticket sales and the enthusiastic demands for more teams in more cities… we probably weren’t going anywhere.

Did that stop me from being absolutely sure we were hanging by a thread? Not even a little.

My train of thought derailed as soon as Reilly’s husband let us into the house. Most of our teammates were already here, apart from those who’d gone home for the holiday, and the house was alive with chatter and activity. Kids were playing in the living room, and adults milled around there as well as the kitchen, the TV room, and the back deck.

And I wasn’t even a little bit surprised when my gaze landed on Lila, and my heart did that familiar jump that I still didn’twant to think too much about. She turned my way and offered a smile too, and I suddenly needed a beer. Not for the alcohol—just for something cold, damn it.

I really should’ve settled things with her in training camp, so I could’ve had camp and the preseason to get used to this part. Not that it would’ve helped; it had been almost a month now, and I was still mentally blue-screening in her presence.

At least I was better about skating and playing hockey, though. The rest of the time? When we were working out or socializing? God help me.

And today, when she was wearing that dark red pantsuit and a pair of simple diamond studs? When she had that silver chain resting just so across her collarbones? Fuuuck.

She just looked so damngood.

It was hard to believe Lila Hamilton was screwing with my brain like this. Not because of the bad blood we’d had for a little while, but because I’d known her since we were kids. Like so many of us, she had still been in the awkward teenager phase during major juniors. We were all gangly back then, and some of us had still been waiting on growth spurts to mercifully show up. Which they did. Eventually.

When we’d gone to Worlds and to the Olympics, we’d mostly settled into our adult bodies. I felt like I should’ve had a crush on her back then, just like I should’ve been attracted to some of my other teammates and opponents. I probably had the inklings of crushes at that time, but I was so focused on hockey, I didn’t really give it any thought beyond telling people, “No, I am not a lesbian!” I’d been so deep in the closet that my passport was issued out of Narnia; I didn’tletmyself notice other girls.

I had no idea if I’d have been into Lila back then had I accepted who I was.

Years later, though, with those awkward teen days an even more distant memory than my closet, Lila Hamilton definitely had my attention..

And eventually, sooner or later, I was going to figure out how to coexist with her without my mind going blank every time she smiled.

I wandered the party and socialized with teammates and their families until dinnertime. The meal was served buffet style. After we’d loaded our plates, we sat down at one of the two large tables that had been set up in the dining and living rooms.

I, of course, sat beside my sister.

The chair beside me was empty for a minute or so, but then someone sat down, and when I looked…

Oh God. How am I supposed to follow dinner conversation with you right next to me?

Lila gave me a smile, then focused on putting her napkin in her lap.

I took a deep swallow from my ice water. Not that it helped.

“Hey, Mac,” Laws chirped from across the table as we started eating. “That was a nice write-up about you. That article about you and Ivy Tanneson? That’s awesome.”

“Oh. Right.” I smiled thinly. “I’m glad to see Noel Carter getting some air time, too. She’s really killing it out there.”

“You are, too,” Laws insisted.

“It’s a shame they fall all over themselves to make everything you do about your dad and brother.” Sims wrinkled her nose. “Does that bother you?”

I admittedly let the mask slip a little. “It’s… I mean, it would be nice if they could talk about me as me rather thanhisdaughter orhissister.” I huffed a laugh. “At least this time they didn’t mention that I’mhisex-wife.”

That had a few other people scowling.

“The dad and brother part would be annoying.” Val stabbed a piece of turkey on her plate. “But the ex-husband?Eww.”

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