Page 14 of His Jersey

He yips again as if insulted.

“You need to go back to where you came from.”

His expressive eyebrows rumple and turn down, tugging at my heart. I give him a pet. Turns out I’m a softy. So is he. He stares at me for a long moment. Again, the actor from an action flick I watched on a recent flight comes to mind, you know, if he were a dog. I’m not implying the movie star looks like one. I’m actually a big fan. I chuckle to myself because this might mean I need a mental vacation.

Maybe he does, too, after being sent to the pound and then held hostage by Cassandra.

“I could really go for a cheeseburger right now.”

The dog barks as if he agrees.

“What do you want to be called?”

He barks again.

“Not Jackie. Not Mark. How about Bark Wahlburger?” I say, joking because, if nothing else, I have to see the humor in the culmination of my week.

The dog barks a third time and wears a big, goofy grin.

My breath does something funny: catches, releases, doubles back like a boomerang. I can’t quite explain it, but whatever it is results in me letting out a long and hysterical laugh.

The dog stands on his hind legs and puts his paws on me. I lower him down and then crouch, giving him a long scratch behind the ears and pet along his flank. “I really needed that laugh. Thanks, buddy.”

The dog, smiling and hopeful now, stares at me as if I’m the one holding up the works. I start to climb the stairs and stop when the dog whines. “Well, Bark Wallburger, go do your business and get onboard. We have an island to get to.”

Once situated on the airplane bound for Jewel Island, instead of some much-needed rest, my mind whirls with questions. After drinking an entire bowl of water, the dog settles down by my feet, lets out a contented sigh, and falls fast asleep.

I’ll deal with him later. Right now, I have career-breaking things to consider.

If I want to remain on the ice, I’ll have to up my game and win. Totally doable. But what my father and Aston said about the Knights echoes in my mind. Maybe I need to show commitment now, to my current team and the organization at large if they’re concerned about my reputation.

That’s an easy fix.

Ideas fly through my mind until I land on a solution. I’ll ask someone to wear my jersey to my next game because it would be a first. Even though I‘ve dated around, everyone will know that it’s a big deal.

However, if anyone so much as catches the scent that Iasked a woman to wear my jersey, the press could become suspicious. I attract the Astons of the world and can’t trust them. That wouldn’t end well.

My thoughts circle back, around, up, and down.

Whereas Remy is partially composed of pudding, Coach Badaszek from the Knights is pure steel.

While Cole, Duffton, Gunther, and the rest of us have ame, myself, and Imentality, the Knights are a real team … and they’re family men. No puck bunnies front and center or on the side. No partying. The only flash is their history of Stanley Cup wins. It’s a lot to live up to, and if I’m completely honest with myself, everything I’ve ever wanted.

However, the Knights organization is the diametric opposite of the Storm and I wouldn’t fit in, so the Zamboni can run over that option.

It’s back to the drawing board.

By the time we touchdown, the eastern sky lightens with the blush of dawn. I could go crash in the suite the hotel management has held for me all week, but I have the dog with me.

While the shuttle brings us to the resort property, I shoot Carlos a text to contact the local shelters and find out about the jailbreak.

Outside, Bark Wahlburger does his business and then trots next to me as I enter the resort.

Starving, I pop intoBon Jour, the only place on the property that serves breakfast at this early hour. Mom and I used to order the crepes—egg and cheese first and strawberries with chocolate second. She insisted on chocolate at every meal. I wonder if they’re still on the menu.

The hostess smiles as I approach, no doubt wondering if a pirate washed ashore. At least, that’s how I feel. It’s safe toassume I look ragged. A king-sized bed has never been so appealing, but first, I need food.

Recognition flashes in her eyes and her cheeks flush. “A table for how many?”

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