Page 113 of Play to Win

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THÉO

The moment when I announce our first draft pick up on the stage in the Rogers Arena in Vancouver is an emotional one—of course it brings back memories of that day not so long ago when it wasmyname being called,megetting up there on the stage and pulling on the Penguins jersey, me with my whole hockey life ahead of me.

It hasn’t turned out how I envisioned it that day, but it’s still been pretty damn fantastic.I love this sport.And I’m thrilled to be picking Edvin Rintala from Finland on behalf of the California Condors.This kid is amazing and has the potential to be a marquee player.

I’m having a helluva time focusing on business, but since that’s all I have, I better fucking do it.Succeeding at this job, managing this team, turning it from a losing team into a winner and a moneymaker ...that’s all I have.All I am.The numbers guy.I have to be thebestnumbers guy ...or I’m nothing.

I’m working on autopilot.In Vegas, the NHL and the NHLPA announced the salary cap for next season, which will be five million dollars higher than this season.That helps us some ...but not enough.We need some depth players and we need them now.Luckily with all our preparation and with a good team here with me, we acquire some outstanding prospectsandtrade one of our players we knew we couldn’t keep for another second-round pick, which results in getting a player the scouts all think will have excellent value down the road for us.

I ignore Lacey’s messages.She keeps sending them.

I know she wasn’t screwing around with my brother.That would be too improbable.What are the chances that would happen to me twice?Like, a thousand to one odds.I don’t even know the statistical likelihood of that.

But it did totally freak me out, seeing them together.A hot wave of jealousy hit me, all the feelings I’d had when I walked in on JP and Emma that day roaring back, making me want to puke.I’d lost my shit and stormed out, and when I’d calmed down and thought about it logically, I believed what Lacey tells me in her endless messages.But ...anytime I trust someone or believe in something, I get shit on.I’m not going there again.

I knew Lacey wasn’t going to be around forever, but I was getting crazy, stupid ideas about love and keeping her here and having something good and beautiful and joyful in my life.Something other than the work that I used to distract myself from the fact that I didn’t have much else going on in my life.I thought that was what I wanted.Then I started wanting more.But I know better than that.

I keep telling myself this all weekend.When I board the plane back to LAX on Monday morning, I can feel satisfied with a job well done.

Except I feel like I’ve been used as a target in the net for shooting practice, my entire body bruised and beat up.

Now I have to deal with things at home.I’m looking forward to that as much I’d look forward to blocking an Ovechkin slap shot.My gut cramps with dread the entire flight.I try to ease the pain with whiskey.The flirty flight attendant is happy to keep refilling my glass, but I need to ease up because I have to drive home from the airport.

I have no idea if Lacey works today; I know she doesn’t have a class on Mondays.But the condo is empty when I walk in.I’m both disappointed and relieved.Much as I don’t want to admit it, I want to see her again.I missed her.Again.Yet I’m relieved that I don’t have to have the conversation I’ve been planning in my head.I even made notes on my laptop, for Chrissake, so I’d know what to say.

I haul my suitcase and garment bag with my suits upstairs and unpack.I carry my toiletry bag into the bathroom and set it on the vanity.I look around.The bathroom is unusually neat and tidy.Lately every time I walk in here, Lacey’s girl stuff is all over the place—hair products, moisturizers, shower gel that smells like her ...apples and flowers ...

It’s all gone.

I frown.My chest seizes up.I whip open the drawers of the vanity and doors of the medicine cabinet.

Her stuff is gone.

For a moment, I can’t move.Can’t think.

Then I pound downstairs and rocket into her bedroom.I skid to a halt.It’s empty too.

There is nothing of Lacey left in this room.The closet is empty.The bathroom is bare as well.

My lungs deflate, leaving me winded.What.The.Fuck.

I stumble through the condo.Her flip-flops aren’t sitting by the door onto the patio.Her magazines and knitting aren’t cluttering up the coffee table.

She’s gone.

Okay.Okay.Why am I freaking the fuck out when I was going to have a conversation where I gently suggested that we’d get a divorce and she’d move out.I could help her find an apartment, if she’s not ready to go back to Vegas.I was dreading that conversation.I should feel thankful I don’t have to do it.She made the decision on her own.

For some reason though, there’s a burning in my gut, spreading up into my chest.

I need to ignore it.

It’s pretty fucking hard to ignore.I rub my chest.Maybe I need to take a pill.

A thought bursts into my mind.What if ...those douchehole bookies came here and got her?

No.They couldn’t find her here.

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