Page 41 of Playoff

Minus the college credit.

I don’t get a salary during the playoffs, we just get bonuses that vary in amount depending on if we win or lose the series. And each series provides a bigger payout. If we go all the way to the championship, I’ll make more than four or five times my yearly salary for the Rebels just from the bonuses. In the meantime, however, I live on per diems and what’s in my savings account. Which isn’t a lot.

This is one of many reasons I have to make this work.

If I can’t play at the NHL level, I can’t afford to keep playing in the minors. I’ll be thirty in just over a year. With no savings, a minimal retirement account, and no real-life skills. I don’t even know what kind of job I could get. Coaching? A scout?

At some point, I have to give it some serious thought.

Not when my family is in town, though. My dad would have a field day if he found out I was considering leaving hockey in the next year or two. And this isn’t the time for a lecture from him. I get enough of them.

“You should come say hi to my sister,” I tell Rowan. “She always looked up to you.”

“Unlike your parents,” she says dryly, “who hated me.”

“They didn’t hate you. They just didn’t want me to get tied down at eighteen.”

“Well, they shouldn’t have worried—you didn’t seem to want that either.”

I sigh.

We’re back to this. Apparently, our talk the other night didn’t cover all the bases. Not for her anyway.

“I was stupid,” I say quietly. “But I don’t know how many more times I can apologize for it.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

When I glance over at her, she’s avoiding my gaze.

She may have forgiven me for hurting her, but it doesn’t look like she’ll ever forget.

And it’s probably better if she doesn’t.

Except I really,reallywanted to kiss her the other night.

“Oh my god, Rowan? Is that you?” Phoebe is staring at us in disbelief.

“Hey, Phoebe.” Rowan gives her a friendly smile. “How are you?”

“I’m good! How are you? Why didn’t I know you worked here?” she demands, giving her brother the side eye.

“I’ve only been here two seasons,” Rowan responds. “And the last time Blake was called up, I was out with the flu. So our paths didn’t cross.”

I’ve been wondering about that but now I know.

“So you’re working for the team?” Phoebe asks. “That’s so cool.”

“I’m an assistant trainer, although I’m acting head trainer right now.”

“Oh my goodness—is that Rowan Taylor?” My mother comes over to us, wide-eyed. “Are you here with Blake?”

I frown. “No, Mom. She’s the head trainer on the team.”

“Really?” She cocks her head slightly, as if she doesn’t understand.

“It’s nice to see you, Mrs. Rourke,” Rowan says politely, even though I can see the tightness in her face.

“Are you kidding me?” My dad comes over and squints at Rowan. “You’re the girl from high school. What the hell are you doing here?”

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