Page 22 of Playmaker

Seriously?

Yeah, seriously.

Unaware of my mood taking a nosedive, Sabrina put her water bottle into the cup holder on one of the bikes.

Eh. Whatever. The gym was open to all of us. I could be an adult and get over her being here even if I wasn’t nearly as focused or relaxed anymore.

Itriedto focus. Itriedto relax. I was more or less successful with that, too, while she was on the bike. I was still aware of her presence, and I was still irritated because I had no desire to be around her—well, aside from that one really intense desire to beveryclose to her, which could shut right up—but she was over there and I was over here.

Fine.

Until she got up from the bike and, out of all the possible directions she could’ve gone in this enormous gym, she came to where I was working out. She put her towel and water bottle down two benches over from mine. Because of course she did.

Didn’t she have a fancy, swanky-ass home gym she could use? Did she have to come here? I understood using it during off-ice team workouts, but on her own? On our day off?

Just give me some breathing room. Jesus.

That was ridiculous and I knew it. She had as much right to be here as I did. I just didn’t want her here.

I couldn’t control what anyone else did, but I could sure control what I did, so… fuck it. I was done working out.

I was so fixated on cleaning the bench and getting out of here, it only vaguely registered that she’d said something to me. Asked me a question, maybe? Damn, could’ve used some Air Pods right about then; great excuse to pretend I didn’t hear someone.

I wasn’t in the mood to engage, so I just grabbed my water bottle and towel, and started for the locker room without so much as a, “See you tomorrow.”

I only made it two steps before Sabrina dropped the dumbbell she’d been holding, nearly hitting her foot, though she barely seemed to notice thatorthe loudclank. “Okay. What is your problem?”

I straightened, still startled from her throwing the weight and now caught off-guard by her question. “What?”

“Don’t play stupid. You’ve had it out for me since day one.” She crossed her arms across her sweaty tank top. “You’re either taking swipes at me, or you’re ignoring me like we’re a couple of girls in high school who aren’t speaking. What’s—”

“I don’t come to the gym to socialize,” I said flatly. “If you do, then—”

“Oh don’t even try that.” She rolled her eyes. “I literally just asked if you were done with a set of weights. That’s not socializing. And ignoring me, racking those weights, and storming off is obnoxious.” She worked her jaw. “We’re stuck playing together for the foreseeable future, so whatever your problem is…” She flailed a hand before letting it smack onto her other forearm. “Out with it.”

The temptation to blow her off and stalk out of the gym was strong. I liked to think I was reasonably mature and not prone to catty bullshit, but what could I say? When I was around her, that side of me surfaced. All the resentment. All the frustration. Spend a few years constantly being in someone’s shadow and see how charitableyouare about them.

“Fine.” I wiped the towel over my face, then dropped it onto a bench and faced her. “Maybe it’s just frustrating as hell to work so hard to get here”—I gestured all around us—“only to be overshadowed by someone who gets a red carpet rolled out in front of her everywhere she does.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she snapped. “Are you still hung up on that?”

“Why shouldn’t I be? You’re still benefitting from everything that was handed to you, so why shouldn’t—”

“Don’t youdaretell me I’ve had anything handed to me.” Sabrina stepped closer, dark eyes narrowing. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Mirroring her, I crossed my arms and inclined my head. “You skated in here with a household name. This league isn’t stupid, and neither is this team. They want you so people outside of women’s hockey will actually—”

“And you think that could carry me this far?” She motioned in the general direction of the rink. “You think I could just go out there and do cardio while the rest of you do the work, because my name gets attention? My jersey didn’t rack up those points, Lila.” She tapped her chest. “Idid.”

“Uh-huh.” I glared right back at her. “And it must’ve been so hard to learn when you had access to all the equipment and coaches and—”

“You haveno ideawhat I’ve been up against my entire life,” she snarled.

I was about to throw back that she could cry me a river. It must’ve been so hard, being the privileged daughter of a hockey legend, never having to worry about money or fight for a spot on a team. Yeah, must’ve been awful.

But the words caught in my throat when the overhead lights caught the tears welling up in her eyes.

And I froze.

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