Page 61 of Perfect Playbook

Laughing off my insomnia seemed easier when I became a party animal. So did not having a relationship or taking myself too seriously. My persona protected me from people talking about therapy with me too much, all but my big brother, Colt, and my mom, that is. They never stopped suggesting it, but therapy? It reminded me too much of Shay, the only other time I took myself into a professional setting for mental help. Instead I hid my problems under a shiny playboy reputation, and sometimes, even I didn’t realize my sleep issue was there.

I work harder on the ice, pushing my muscles to the limit, digging my blades in deeply, furiously… pushing away thoughts of the past. When I take my slap shot at the end of the cones, I whack it right into the top corner and can’t help but glance over to Nino and Shay. Nino jumps up and down. Shay has put her sandwich down to give me two thumbs-up.

It’s a silent cheer from just two people, and I’ve neverfelt better with a whole crowd on their feet and a stadium filled to the brim with thundering roars. It was the same in college. I only cared about Shay’s hands clapping. Shay’s cheers. Shay’s tits bouncing up and down with encouragement.

When a woman doesn’t love freely, it’s the best thing in the world when she gives it to you.

The whistle blows, signaling the end of the drill, and I pause to catch my breath. The burn of exertion tingles through my muscles. We all step off for a quick power-up of energy drink.

I squirt my Gatorade into my mouth next to Ashton.

“How did the school trip go?” he asks.

“The place is insane. It’s as nice as Golden Sierra. Save your pennies. Two hockey rinks for little Fletcher. Grandstands on either side of them. I’m telling you, the place is out of this world.”

“Did you get skates for Antonio yet?”

“Nah. But I should. I wanted to respectfully let his interest in soccer ride out, but I have a feeling his coach is a prick, so maybe I’ll see if I can encourage him to play a better sport.”

Ashton draws his lips into a thin line, a sort of smirk I can’t read.

“What?”

He cocks a brow. “You’re protective.”

“Hell yeah, I am.”

The whistle blows, signaling our next drill.

Ashton shoves his big hand into his glove then pats me on the shoulder. “It’s nice to see you care about something this much.”

My friend steps onto the ice, but his words don’t skate off with him, and I kind of wishthey would.

How do I care for, protect, and fulfill my end of the bargain for Shay and not fall totally back into the addictive need for her love? How can I kiss her, sleep next to her, even eat her goddamn mouth-watering food without memories creeping back in to remind me how perfect she was for me? How much more perfect she seems now.

I broke so hard after Shay. I couldn’t trust anyone. For over a year, I lost interest in socializing. Eating. If it wasn’t for my professional contract I might have withered away.

I met the woman of my dreams in college, and my NHL contract came around with bad timing. Impossible timing. I needed to become an entirely new man to live again at all. It took ages to get over her.

Maybe I never did.

Chapter Twenty-One

The night after the kiss,thank goodness Antonio asked me if I’d have a sleepover in his room. I put his mattress on his floor, and he piled up loads of pillows in his teepee. Since Logan had to stay later than usual at practice last night to make up for his morning off, I was safe behind the oak door of Nino’s room, pretending to sleep off how disturbing this all is.

Logan wasn’t supposed to be so good with Antonio.

He wasn’t supposed to be so good withme.

Over all these years, I’ve been able to morph my Logan from college into the man I see on magazine spreads, in the newspaper, and all over the shameful puck bunnywebsites I sometimes frequent when I’m having a particularly bad bout of late-night anxiety. I wasn’t pining for him, just curious. I wondered how a man who healed me could also become such a heartbreaker.

But now that we’re together again, all I see is college Logan. College Logan was a giver. He didn’t take himself too seriously apart from his appearance and had surprisingly little ego for a guy with his talent, body, and face cut from the gods. That’s the guy I’ve been seeing now. I saw him in Vegas. I saw him at Longbrook. With my dad… even his choices of the people he surrounds himself with show his character. Ashton was always aloof but so mature; the pair never communicated like apes the way other jocks did. Tom, his PA, is a gem of a human. And, of course, the whole Hunter family is full of golden people. Logan is genetically inclined to be decent.

So why hasn’t Logan ever settled down? Why has he become such a womanizer?

That question blows through my mind all night until the morning when I wake up with hair like tumbleweed, my eyes sticky with crust that I have no idea how it got there because I don’t remember sleeping.

I’m a veritable zombie but somehow wake up my baby and get the morning routine going. I stare out the back window at a cactus in the garden, hot coffee getting cold in my hand. Nino eats his breakfast, and I have no idea how much time passes, but I finally look at the clock. I need to get back to my work, and Dad has offered to bring Cayenne over this morning and take Nino to school.

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