Page 15 of Playoff

“Got it. I appreciate the head’s up because things are a lot more mellow on the Rebels. We do some promo and photo shoots at the start of the season, around Christmas, and if we make it to the playoffs. That’s about it. And Barry, the guy who runs PR for the team, usually just swings by the locker room and lets us know what’s what.”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna cut it with the Phantoms. There’s always a lot going on, and never more so than now. We haven’t been in the playoffs in over a decade. This is a huge deal.” She lifts her gaze to mine, studying my face intently. “I hope you know just how special this is. For the team and the players.”

I’d forgotten about that aspect of it.

Which is stupid.

I need to be paying attention to the details, not feeling sorry for myself because my ex doesn’t like me anymore.

“I do,” I say finally. “It’s just a lot to get used to. I’ve only been called up a couple of times in the last few years.”

Something flickers in her eyes—sympathy? Regret? It’s hard to tell but it’s gone almost as quickly as it appeared.

“The team is counting on you,” she says. “We all are. Don’t fuck it up, Blake.”

I bristle. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know damn well what it means.”

We stare at each other for a moment.

I do know what she means.

All the partying in college.

It cost me a lot.

Grades.

A place on the team.

My shot at the NHL.

Everything that’s happened to me, for the most part, is my own fault.

But it stings coming from her.

There were extenuating circumstances sometimes, no doubt about that, but if I hadn’t been such a fuck-up in college things might have been different.

And no one knows that better than Rowan.

“Sir? Do you want a waffle?” The chef is talking to me and I turn, giving him my order.

I’m annoyed as fuck that she called me out like that. Just because it’s true doesn’t give her the right to say it. She wasn’t perfect either back then.

Except… she was.

Straight A’s.

A part-time job.

Doing stats for the hockey team.

Playing varsity volleyball.

Even volunteering at the local soup kitchen.

Not to mention being as hungry for sex as I was.

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