Page 51 of Wrong Score

“Does everyone reckon I’m an asshole?” I ask, with a bite to it, thinking about how Rowan’s been dodging me every chance she gets for the last two weeks since the meeting about Keely’s father.

Once Autumn’s connection at the women’s sports magazine heard about the story, they were quick to move on it. The issue went out a few days ago and though questions have come up during interviews with Reeve at our last home game, Autumn and Tessa coached him on his responses to move the conversation forward.

Tessa’s been managing the conversation on the Hawkeyes social media pages, and as far as I’ve heard, the publicity only caused a spike in ticket sales and more buzz around the team. Phil and Sam saw the opportunity as a chance to touch base with sponsors and renew contracts.

“Touched a sore spot, did I?” he laughs, his tone turning slightly mocking as we cross a green crosswalk, scanning around for cars. No point in taking chances, this team’s been through enough injuries as it is.

“Piss off,” I tell him. “I don’t have sore spots.”

He just shakes his head, letting that one pass. We turn onto the path leading through the park, trees rising around us as we cut into the softer light under the branches. I let the quiet sink in for a beat, but it’s clear he’s still thinking about something, his brow creased in concentration.

“Wait…” He finally says, giving me a side-eye. “This doesn’t have anything to do with that reporter who’s got the exclusive, does it? What’s her name, Rowan, right? I read her piece on you last season. She nailed you right on the head, didn’t she?”

I shoot him a glare, but he just chuckles, clearly enjoying this.

He wouldn’t have put that together on his own, which means, I probably have Penelope gossiping with Juliet to thank for this. Rowan likes to share a good story, but now I know she can keep a secret better than anyone I’ve ever met too, and she doesn’t give up much about herself freely.

“Well, fuck you too, traitor,” I mutter. I’m trying to stay serious, but his laugh is loud enough to echo through the park, and I feel the corners of my mouth twitch in spite of myself.

“Christ, I’m kidding!” He grins, struggling to catch his breath. “She was way off base; she doesn’t know you like the team does. But it was funny as hell, I’ll give her that. ‘A feral cat at a garden party’? Where’d she come up with that one?”

The problem is, Rowan knows me a lot better than Ryker thinks. And if I don’t get a hold of myself and remember my boundaries, she’s going to end up knowing a hell of a lot more about me than anyone else ever has. More than anyone in that locker room, that’s for sure.

Still, I shake it off. I didn’t bring up Juliet’s brother just to get on the subject of Rowan. I wanted to feel Ryker out, see if he’d even consider coming back to Seattle to take over coaching when the time comes, whenever I decide to hang it up. So I change the topic, sidestepping the chance for him to dig deeper.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, focusing my gaze on the path ahead. “Like you said, she’s off base.”

Ryker glances at me, eyebrows raised, but turns his eyes back forward with a quiet, thoughtful “Huh.”

“What?” I demand, annoyed. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” He shrugs, feigning innocence. “It just seems like she’s getting off easy.”

I brush off his comment with a shrug. “She’s got the team by the balls. I’m playing nice, that’s all.”

Ryker throws me a sidelong glance, a smirk curling his lips. “Just the team’s balls?”

I give him a good hard shove, and he has to dodge out of the way of a bicyclist coming in the opposite direction.

“Fucker,” he yells with a laugh.

I keep my pace as he comes back around, meeting back up with me and falling back in sync.

“I’ve got no idea what you’re on about,” I mutter.

“Yeah, sure you don’t. Bexley Townsend, man of mystery,” he teases, breathing heavily as we keep up the pace. “Look, I’m only saying, I’ve been where you are before. If there’s something there, just… don’t go blind trying to pretend it’s not there. Especially if she’s got her claws in your head.”

“Trust me, mate, I know what I’m doing,” I say, feeling my jaw tighten.

“Alright, if you say so,” Ryker replies, though I can see he’s not convinced. “Anyway, we’ve got bigger things to worry about.”

We stop at our usual park bench to stretch before we head back for the apartment build and get ready for Oakley’s.

I take the opportunity to shift the conversation back to where I wanted it. “Right. Bigger things—as in finding a coach who might be up for taking over the Hawkeyes after next season if I call it quits.”

Ryker stop mid lunge, his eyes shifting to meet mine. “Wait…you’re serious?” he says "I thought you’d be stuck in that rink until they scraped you off the ice.”

“Maybe it’s time I take a good look at the future. Consider what else might be out there for me. My family wants me to move home, and my mum isn’t getting any younger. My dad isn’t around to take care of her as she gets older, Leo has a family of his own, and Archie might stay a nomad forever.”

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