Page 13 of Playoff

“You got that right.” He’s serious now. “Can you believe we’re here?” His voice is low, as if someone might hear even though we’re alone in the elevator.

“Not really.” I meet his eyes. “We absolutely cannot fuck up. This is our shot. I mean, it’s my shot. You’re younger so you still have time but?—”

“I’m twenty-four. Do I technically have time? Sure. But is it likely? No. Guys are getting to the NHL at eighteen now. Look at Brooks. He’s living the dream and he’s barely old enough to shave.”

We chuckle together even though it’s not funny.

The possibility of moving out of the minor league permanently is slim to none. The only reason we’re here is because of a horrific accident. Otherwise, we’d still be home in Phoenix, trying to figure out where we’re going to work in the off-season, so we don’t starve.

There’s a gym near our apartment where I fill in now and then, because we don’t make enough money to get through the off-season without some kind of supplemental income. We can’t get regular jobs because of the schedule once the season starts, so I work as many hours as possible in the summer but Bodi hasn’t had good luck with summer jobs. Last summer, he delivered pizza.

Sometimes it’s embarrassing.

The money isn’t terrible, but it’s not even in the ballpark of what the Phantoms make. Hell, playing one game per season with the Phantoms earns me more than my entire year’s salary on the Rebels. It’s that bad. So it makes sense that I’m considering retirement. One more season will put me just shy of thirty, and at that point, why risk a serious injury when I could make more money doing something else?

Something I won’t love as much but at some point, you have to give up on fairy tales and dig into the real world.

“I’ll be up for a while if you feel like talking,” Bodi says. “Otherwise, I’ll see you at breakfast.”

“I think I’m going to veg,” I say. “Eat something, watch a movie, and sleep. I don’t want to think about anything except hockey.”

He looks like he’s going to say something sarcastic—I can tell by the glint in his eyes—but then he surprises me and just claps me on the shoulder.

“That sounds like a good plan. I’ll talk to you later.” He turns to the right and I go left. Not sharing a room is nice, one of many things that I consider an improvement when you hit the big time.

The only question now is keeping it.

I’ve just reached my room when I hear movement behind me and I turn to see Rowan coming up the hall, a bucket of ice in her hands. Our eyes meet, and I nod.

She nods back and then slips into her room.

Which is right next to mine.

Great.

So much for a relaxing evening.

Knowing she’s in the hotel somewhere is one thing.

Knowing she’s just a few feet away, but won’t talk to me, is somehow incredibly frustrating.

I don’t know what I was expecting.

I honestly had no expectations.

I knew I was going to see her.

I knew it might be awkward for a minute, but the plan had been to apologize for being an immature ass when I was eighteen and ask if we could be friends.

She’s made it clear that’s not going to happen.

And for whatever reason, it really bothers me.

I’mone of the first guys down to breakfast and I sink down next to Canyon and Chandler Cormier.

“Mornin’.” Canyon grins. “How’d you sleep?”

I wobble my hand back and forth. “Good, I guess, but not great. I tossed and turned a lot.”

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