Page 9 of Playoff

I’m twenty-eight, so my glory days are behind me.

It’s always been one thing or another keeping me from making it to the NHL. Bad luck, bad timing, bad everything. I’ve been thinking about retirement, going back to school, looking toward a future that may not include hockey.

But this might be my chance.

For once, things are working in my favor and I’m going to do everything in my power to prove L.A. is where I belong.

THREE

Rowan

With gameone delayed for two days so the team can regroup and recover, wait for new players to arrive, and get in some practice, it seems like I should have time to catch my breath, but it’s actually the opposite. Gene had not one but two heart attacks, and his subsequent stent surgery has him out of commission for an indefinite period of time.

Which means I’m now in charge.

And I’ve been working nonstop since the accident.

The Blizzard has been gracious enough to share their facilities with us under extenuating circumstances like these, and I’ve been in their training room all day for the second day in a row. I’m exhausted but also exhilarated, and I can see the strain on the guys. Five guys from the Rebels flew in yesterday, and though I haven’t seen them yet, I figure I will today.

For the first time, I feel a little bit of panic.

I’mbusy.

I don’t have time for drama.

While I’d like to think Blake and I have grown up and there won’t be any awkwardness, how can there not be? Our breakup was a long time ago, but it was the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through romantically. I’d been head over heels in love with him, and he chose hockey.

A decade later and it still hurts.

A little.

I’m not pining for him.

Far from it.

I’ve had sex, lovers, and even relationships since then, but I’ve never been in love like that. They say nothing ever matches your first love, and it feels like that’s the truth.

“Rowan.” I hear my name and turn.

“Harper. Hello!” I’m not surprised to see the team owner, Harper Barrowman-DeLugo, but I hadn’t seen her since before we left L.A. She’d had things to take care of and flew separately so she hadn’t been on the flight—or the bus—with us. Thank God. She’s pregnant and I don’t even want to think about what could have happened if she was in that accident.

“How are you?” she asks, coming over to give me a warm hug.

“I’m good. Busy but good.”

“I want you to know, there’s going to be a bonus in your next paycheck. I heard how brave you were… how you saved Gene’s life.”

“I was just doing my job,” I say softly. “A bonus isn’t necessary.”

“Maybe not, but you’re getting one anyway.”

“Thank you.”

“If you need help, please ask. I know there are supposed to be two of you and now it’s just you, so if you need one of the equipment assistants to help out, just let me or Drake know.”

“Thanks, Harper. I think I’ll be okay unless we have some kind of crisis on the ice.”

“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen.” She smiles. “Anyway, make sure you take time to rest, okay? We need you and you’re of no help to us if you get sick.”

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