Page 6 of Heartless Game

“Jones, why don’t you want to do that interview?”

Curious, and a little skeptical, I asked him, “How do you even know who Tovah is?” He’d only been on campus for a couple months.

He smiled. “My husband is a professor in the journalism department. Tovah is one of his students, and he always speaks very highly of her.” He cleared his throat. “Now, why don’t you want to do that interview?”

I looked away, wracking my brain for a good excuse.Because if I spend even a second alone with the little snoop, we’re both going to end the interview bare assed with me pumping between her insanely hot thick thighswouldn’t go over well.Because I hate the rude, nosy bitch for no real reason beyond the fact that she fucks with my head and equilibrium, so I refuse to give her the upper handalso wouldn’t fly.

I settled on, “I don’t like interviews, sir.”

He snorted. “Jones, even with Feldman as captain, everyone knows you’re the real face of the team. You’ve done interviews in the past. You’ll do this one, too. Like I said, the team needs a new narrative, and it’s your job to create it. Use that easy charm and confidence and answer her questions truthfully.”

I raised an eyebrow. “And if she asks questions that, if I answer honestly, put the team in a bad light?”

She would. There was no doubt that Tovah, clever as she was, had hard hitting questions ready that most guys would stumble over.

“Then you answer them the best you can, while making sure to present the team well and distance us as much as you can from your former coach.”

“And if I say no?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Then you’re benched for the rest of the season,” he said. “It would be a damn shame. We need you. But I’m not going to let whatever personal issues you have with Ms. Kaufman keep this team from getting back its good standing in the league.”

“I don’t have any personal issues with Tovah,” I said.

He raised an eyebrow. “Then this should be easy. Right?”

“Right,” I muttered.

“Alright. Good game, again, Jones. You’re a solid player and teammate, and it’s going to mean a great future in hockey for you.”

The praise slightly softened the blow, but his reference to my future was rubbing salt on an open, secret wound. Because I wouldn’t be playing hockey after college. The invisible noose around my neck pulled tighter.

Time to go face the little snoop and let her know she’d won the battle, even though I’d win the war.

Whatever it took.

3

Tovah

God, he wassuchan asshole.

I stood outside the locker room door that Isaac had slammed in my face, glowering with frustration and helplessness. I hated feeling helpless, and Isaac always made me feel that way. He reminded me of the past, and the ways I couldn’t protect my mother and me from the villains in the shadows. Equally bad—or worse—he made me feel physically helpless, because I was so intensely attracted to him. I was like that Pablo Neruda poem, except toxic instead of romantic. Everything in my body wanted his body, even though I hated him and loathed his family more.

I guess no matter what you do, you can’t get rid of a childhood crush.

Even if your childhood crush—the first and only boy you ever thought you loved—didn’t remember you.

“That didn’t go over so well,” Aviva, my best friend, commented beside me. She brushed her brown curly hair out of her face, the light catching on her engagement ring.

I bit my cheek.

I wasnotjealous. I was happy for her, even if I still didn’t trust her fiancé.

Okay, fine. A good journalist was honest, so I would be, too.

I wasn’t jealous…but sometimes, late at night, I wondered what it would be like to be able to belong to someone else.

I never would be free to love someone and have them love me. Not when I had so many secrets to hide. Not when life had taught me that no one could protect you but you.

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