Page 139 of The Risk

“See!” I say victoriously. “Even they know the truth! You can’t say you won that game.”

“Of course I can say we won the game.” He’s exasperated. “Becausewe won the game! Hello? Auto-bid?”

“Yes, but… Okay, I’m not going to argue about this,” I grumble. “Just know that if Hunter and Nate were skating that night, the outcome could’ve been a lot different.”

“That is true,” Jake agrees.

“I heard it was about a girl,” Trevor is saying, and the two HockeyNet hosts chuckle at each other, until Kip dons a thoughtful look.

“But that raises a good question,” Kip muses. “If you’re so immature that you’re swinging your fists over a girl during the most crucial game of your season—do you not deserve to get ejected?”

“Hunter didn’t get ejected!” I yell at the screen.

Trevor backs me up. “Davenport wasn’t ejected. He was injured. The instigator was Jonah Hemley.”

“And what’s Rhodes’s excuse?” Kip shoots back. “He’s the team captain. What’s he doing throwing himself in the middle of a brawl?”

“Damn right!” Jake chimes in. “Rhodes made his own bed.”

“You know these hockey players—they’re hot-blooded,” Trevor counters. “They operate on aggression and passion.”

Jake hoots. “You hear that, Hottie? I’m aggressive and passionate.”

“I amsoturned on right now.”

“Good. Get on your knees and suck me off. See how aggressive and passionate I am?”

I punch him in the arm. “That is so unappealing to me.”

“Fine, then spread your legs so I could eat you out.”

“I’ll think about that one.”

He grins at me. “Keep me posted.”

The lighthearted mood dies when the hosts bring up the topicof my father. “Jensen had a great season,” Trevor says. “Shame they didn’t get a berth, but hopefully next year will garner a different result. I really do believe he’s the best coach in D1 hockey right now.”

Sadness coats my throat. I wonder if I should text my dad. He must be so disappointed that Briar’s season ended this way.

“I should text my dad,” I say out loud. “You know, offer my condolences.”

Jake’s tone goes soft. “I’m sure he’d appreciate that.”

Would he? I have no idea, but I still send him a short message saying they played a good season and next year will be even better. He doesn’t immediately respond, but he’s not much of a texter. I simply hope he reads it and knows I’m thinking about him.

To my horror, actual tears well up.

“Are you…” Jake doesn’t miss my watery eyes. “Are you crying?” he asks with a note of concern.

“No.” I rub the side of my finger underneath my eye. “Sending that message made me a bit sad. I hate it when he’s mad at me. I mean, he doesn’t show much emotion around me anymore, but when he does, it’s usually more disapproval than anger.”

“Do you realize how messed up that sounds? You hate the anger, but you’re totally cool with the disapproval?” Jake asks incredulously.

“Well, no. I’m notcoolwith it. I’m used to it, is all.” I let out a sigh. “And I guess I understand it. I told you, I haven’t exactly been the perfect daughter.”

“Why? Because you ran wild in high school? What teenager doesn’t?”

“I did more than run wild. I…” A lump rises in my throat, and it’s difficult to talk through it. “Honestly, I think he’s ashamed of me.”

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