Page 85 of Playoff

I look up, irritated. “I’m listening. And no,sheisn’t the problem. It’s just…everyone else. It’s a long story.”

He stares at me.

I can practically see the wheels turning

“Jesus fucking Christ. Are you serious?” He looks around and then lowers his voice. “The rumors about you and Rowan are true?”

I groan. “Are there rumors? For real?”

“Not that there’s something new going on but that you guys were high school sweethearts… and there’s been some jokingaround, but no, I hadn’t heard anything serious. Just a lot of jokes—and usually where there’s smoke there’s fire.”

“Dude, you have to keep your mouth shut,” I hiss. “Her job could be at stake! If you fuck that up for her, I swear to God?—”

“Hey, relax. I’m not the enemy.” He frowns at me. “But if you’re going to be together, people will eventually find out.”

“Hopefully, not until I’m back in Phoenix.”

This time he makes a face I can’t quite decipher. “You don’t really believe you’re going back to Phoenix after how well you’ve played and how the hockey world is talking about you?”

“I haven’t heard anything,” I admit. “I’ve been keeping my head down, focusing on my game, my girl, and keeping my dad from making me crazy. I don’t go online if I can help it.”

“Well, you should. They’re saying a lot of good things.”

“I guess I’ve gotten so used to reading about how I’m not living up to my potential, I just…stopped.”

“Dude, you’ve always lacked confidence.” He meets my eye with a seriousness I don’t usually see in him. “That’s the only reason you don’t live up to your potential. You were badass as hell in college, just distracted and unsure of yourself. And the less confident you got, the more you partied. I watched it in real time, but back then I wasn’t mature enough to understand what I was seeing. But now I do. And I’m telling you—this is your shot. Don’t fuck it up. Not for your dad, not for a woman, not for anything.”

“Big Bang!” Connor comes around the corner and practically tackles Jensen with a bear hug.

“Motherfucker, if you set back the healing of my arm, I will bend you into a pretzel and toss you into the Pacific,” Jensen growls.

“You coming back?” Connor asks, ignoring him.

“Not yet.” They walk down the hall chatting, but not before Jensen glances back and gives me a nod.

Leaving me with a lot to think about.

I head down toward the dressing room when my phone buzzes and I look down.

It’s my agent, Anson Charles.

He probably wants tickets to tonight’s game, which is great. I haven’t seen him in a while and it’ll be good to catch up. And give me an excuse not to hang with my dad after the game.

“Hey, Anson.”

“Blake!” He sounds excited about something. “You have a minute?”

“Sure.”

“So…this is strictly on the down low.”

“Okay.” For some reason, I’m not sure whether I should be intrigued or worried.

“Boston is interested.”

I pause, stopping to look around to make sure I’m alone before leaning against the wall. “What do you mean?”

“You know we’re technically not allowed to talk trades until the playoffs are over, but my buddy over there reached out. He wants to know if there’s any chance you’d go to Boston next season.”

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