Page 15 of Playmaker

I didn’t know why she bothered denying it. The way she’d jettisoned her ex’s name and slapped her dad’s back on when shedecided to come out of retirement? Yeah, that wasn’t obvious or anything.

“Ooh, I know that face.” Faith came into the room, and she watched me as she settled on the other end of the couch with a mug of coffee between her hands. “You’re pissed about something.”

I didn’t know if that was the right word, but I didn’t gainsay her. “There’s an article about Sabrina on one of the sports sites.” I rolled my eyes. “Something about how she refuses to acknowledge how her dad helped her get where she is.”

“Ooh.” Faith put her coffee on a coaster and picked up her phone. “Which site?”

I sent her the link. She opened it, and after a couple of taps, she was peering at her screen with a furrowed brow, her eyes flicking back and forth as she read the text. When she’d finished, she made a disgusted face. The words, “I know, right?” were on the tip of my tongue, but what Faith said caught me by surprise: “Did you notice how long it took for the reporter to actually mention her by name?”

I blinked. “What?”

She gestured at my phone. “Read it again. The article is about her, but her name doesn’t actually appear until—what? The third paragraph?”

That couldn’t be right.

I opened the article again and reread it. Sure enough, Sabrina was referred to by everything except her own name until the third paragraph. “Wow.” I put the phone aside again. “That’s… weird.”

“I know, right?” Faith rolled her eyes. “Can’t imagine why she doesn’t like talking about her dad’s impact on her career.”

“But… he did have an impact on it.”

“Sure, but like, your parents helped you a lot, right? They scrimped and saved and sacrificed so you could play hockey. Youprobably wouldn’t have been able to learn the sport, never mind get here, if they hadn’t done any of that.”

“Right. And I never miss an opportunity to show them and everyone else how grateful I am for that.”

“Of course. But imagine if everyone talked about them instead of you. Like if every article about you was focused on them.”

I made a face. “Eww.”

“Right? So she probably gets tired of that, too.” Faith held up her phone again. “Especially when reporters write articles that make it sound like they’re writing about her dad while she’s an afterthought.”

“Damn. Yeah, that would probably make me feel scummy too.”

“But you still don’t like her.”

“No, I don’t,” I admitted without hesitation. “I get it if she doesn’t like reporters using stories about her as a chance to kiss her dad’s ass. But I mean, the least she can do is own the advantages she’s had.”

“Maybe.” Faith didn’t sound convinced.

“Like, yes, she’s a great player,” I went on. “No one can deny that.”

“You’d like to, though.” My friend’s comment was a prod, but not quite an accusation. “Wouldn’t you?”

I had to think about that for a moment. I couldn’t really argue with her. IwantedSabrina to be a great player because she was one of my teammates, but I alsohatedthat she was a great player because everyone acted like the rest of us were just extras in a show about her. Was I jealous of all the advantages she’d had, from mountains of money and access to the cream of the coaching crop right on down to her literal DNA? Yeah. I was. And maybe if she’d just own that, I’d…

Probably not feel any different.

I sagged against the couch. “Am I… Am Iwrongabout her?”

Faith pursed her lips. “Maybe?” She fixed her bright blue eyes on me. “But maybe that’s not the question you should be asking yourself.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmhmm.” She studied me, then gently asked, “Why are you so determined to hate her?”

I pushed out a harsh breath. “I don’t know. Maybe I just hate feeling like a superstar diva’s backup dancer.”

Faith laughed softly. “Yeah, that would suck. But it kind of seems like that’s an issue with how everyone else regards her. You haven’t said anything about howsheacts.”

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