Page 10 of His Jersey

All my life, I wanted siblings, but I wouldn’t trust Aston with a house plant. I haven’t thought much beyond next week, never mind the rest of my life, but I probably want childrensomeday. However, the idea of Aston and my father spawning is revolting.

Dramatic, I know, but so is the turn things have taken.

The server arrives to take our order, but I stick with water. Aston asks for a steak she won’t eat and my father gets his gourmet cheeseburger.

He leans forward on the table and says, “Did your coach speak with you?”

“Yes. How’d you know about that?” He doesn’t need to answer because when you have as much money as Allain Bouchelle, you somehow know all things at all times. It’s disturbing.

He asks, “Are you going to finish the season or retire early?”

I look from him to Aston who busies herself with her phone.

Quite frankly, I haven’t given it much thought. The entire notion is on hold until I touch down on the island in a few hours.

My father says, “If I were you, I’d cut my losses.”

Just to be pesky, I ask, “What about you, Aston?”

Face aglow from her device, she looks up at me with wide eyes. “Uh, I don’t know. I’ve never had a job like that. But when I worked at the Clothing Carousel, I opted to get the twenty percent discount rather than pay into some kind of CIA, IRS, IRA plan—I can’t remember what it was called.”

I toss my father a sharp look as if to remind him that he did this to himself. If he’d found true love after losing Mom, I could’ve supported that, but Aston threw herself at him the moment she caught the scent of wealth and weaseled her way into his arms.

As harsh as this sounds, she doesn’t love him and he doesn’t love her. She makes him forget about mortality because she’s young and hot—by some standards. In exchange, he buys herthings. The equation is that simple. I know this firsthand. I’m not proud to admit that I’ve been in similar situations, though the age gap didn’t span decades.

A pretty face can make me forget my woes, but then there’s the pretty woman that I’ll never forget.

My father says, “If you want my opinion, I say quit a winner.”

“What if I had another option?” I say, hinting at the Knights offer which is Plan Z. I started playing for the Storm and that’s how I intend to finish. It’s not because I’m stubborn or want to save face. Despite my dating scoreboard, I’m loyal to a fault—and I light the hockey lamp like none other. Well, until recently. Can’t seem to put enough pepper on the puck.

He snorts. “The Knights? They’re a straight-laced organization. They’d eat you alive.”

Historically speaking, the jab isn’t undeserved.

“You’re the one who’s been urging me to propose to Duchess Lucia. Where’s she from again?” I ask, so I make sure to avoid the country.

He grumbles.

She and I have never so much as gone out for coffee. I told Carlos not to put that on my calendar, so there won’t be an exchange of rings with foreign royalty. I joking call him Carlos of all Trades—my manager, assistant, and one of the few humans on the planet that I fully trust

The server brings our food and Aston steals some of my father’s truffle oil french fries before returning to her phone and letting her steak get cold.

“The Knights are a good team.” But not my team. Still, I intend to stoke the fire between my father and me until the blaze can be seen from space. Maybe it’s juvenile, but I’d rather have his attention than Aston take it with her greedyfingers.

It’s obvious he wants me to retire so he can leverage my position as his heir in whatever twisted business deals he runs.

While my father talks to me about the Sperry acquisition, Aston repeatedly peers up at me, giggles, and returns her attention to her brain-deadening device.

“Dare I ask what’s so amusing?”

“If you wanted to play for the Knights, you’d have to be serious.”

“Have you ever watched me play hockey? I take it very seriously.”

She wears a grin that makes me want to double check with my father’s lawyer, Stefan Smedley, that their prenuptial agreement is ironclad. Word in the social media-sphere is that she enjoys watching athletes more than a married woman should.

Aston clucks her tongue. “It’s just that a prerequisite for playing on the Knights is that you’recommitted. To the gameanda significant other. Your idea of a party isn’t the same as theirs. All the puck bunnies know that’s a no-fly zone.”

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