Page 87 of Play to Win

“The night I met you, I thought you were an accountant.Then I thought you were a hockey player.Turns out you’re a number cruncher after all.But I don’t get what kind of numbers you’re crunching.”

“All kinds of things.Analyzing the video and then the data helps us know more about individual player performance, also how specific lines perform together and how the team performs.”

“It’s so technical.”Once again I feel a surge of admiration for him.

“It is.”

“I guess when I think about hockey or sports, I just think about how many goals they score or how many games they win.”

“Yeah.That’s what it all comes down to.But I’m trying to make decisions like how much a player is worth paying or if the player is even worth keeping on the team.And when we get into the season, the numbers will help the coach make decisions like which players should play together, who should kill penalties, who goes on the power play.We can use stats to predict what will happen with teams we play against—which ones are likely to outscore us.Or not.”

Honestly, talking about numbers and stats should make my eyes glaze over, but I find I’m fascinated by this.When I thought about hockey (not that I ever thought about hockey much) it was as a fast, physical sport with guys slamming each other into the boards and taking pucks to the teeth.I had no idea there was so much strategy to it.

I let Théo keep talking about it as we clean up then go for our walk, asking probably stupid questions and letting him patiently explain things to me, like what Corsi and Fenwick and expected goals scores are.

“But you can’t rely on just numbers,” he adds, my hand clasped in his as we stroll along the sand.“You have to rely on your eyes too, to get a complete picture.There’s a saying about stats ...they’re like a bikini.”

“Uh ...”

“What they reveal is interesting ...”His eyes wander over me, leaving heat in their path.“But what they cover up is crucial.”

“Ha.”

“Sometimes our eyes lie ...and the numbers prove it.But sometimes the numbers are misleading too.”

“And you know hockey, so you can use your eyes too.”

“Yeah.”He swings my hand and gives me that slow, sexy smile.“Even though I have one shitty eye.”

My heart bumps.“But you can see fine with your glasses.”

“Yeah, I can.”

“Your mom said that kids bugged you about being smart when you were a kid.”

He grimaces but shrugs.“Yeah.”

“But you showed them.”

The smile is back.“Yeah, I did.But you never totally lose that feeling of being ...different.I felt like something was wrong with me.”

“I can’t imagine you feeling that way.”I eye him.The sun is low in the sky, making his tanned skin golden, emphasizing his strong bone structure.Our shadows stretch long across the sand.“You seem so confident and together.”

“Well.”For a moment he says nothing.“I am confident in my abilities.But I like to analyze things—maybe too much sometimes.I always want to understand why things happen.Why kids bugged me when I was younger.Then when I got injured, I couldn’t figure out why that happened to me.Why something I loved was taken away from me.Then it happened again ...with Emma.”

I flinch at hearing that he’d loved Emma.But I try to keep my face composed.

“And with JP,” he adds.“He was my best friend.He…stuck up for me when kids teased me.He was there for me when I got hurt.I couldn’t figure out how he of all people could have done that to me.”

My chest aches for him, for the hurt he felt.

“So in the end, what I came up with is ...I don’t deserve the things I want.”

I stop walking, my mouth dropping open.His hand tugs mine and he stops too, turning to face me.“That’s crazy,” I announce.

He gives a soft laugh.“You have a better explanation?”

“No.”I frown.

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