Page 17 of Playing to Win

“Oh.”Right. Jayna was Faith’s teammate first. Jayna wasn’t my ally. She was doing a job, but if there was a problem, she’d be on Faith’s side. Maybe I should have figured that out before I told her my secret.

I needed to focus on the future. Where I had a chance to play in the NHL and possibly stay. I had to set aside personal issues, do what I needed to make this work.

I hoped I could.

* * *

Jayna

Outside of a fewheart-to-hearts with a lot of wine involved, Faith didn’t talk about her father. When people asked why he didn’t represent her, she said she preferred to keep the personal and professional parts of her life separate. I’d kept the cheating information to myself. Faith was protective of her mother.

And now, a half-brother. Faith would hate to have that spread across the news outlets. I wouldn’t tell anyone. Any possible benefit to Braydon’s reputation was offset by how many other people it would harm.

But with the guy sitting on the other side of my desk? I couldn’t help comparing him to Faith, trying to see the family resemblance. He had the same thick blond hair, but his was cut short. Faith had always kept her hair long, braided back most of the time, especially when she played. Most of us did—I’d cut mine when I knew I’d be out for a while, just for a change. Braydon’s hair looked darker, since anything the sun highlighted had been cut off over the winter. Blond hair was common enough that it wouldn’t make anyone suspect they were related.

But his eyes—they were the same blue, under the same brows. Would that give it away? His chin was squarer, and his nose had been broken, distorting its natural shape. Both of them were tall, with long limbs that helped them protect their goal. They were each fit, strong and flexible to do their job.

He was a good-looking man. If I’d met him in a bar—and he hadn’t been a hockey player—I’d have definitely been interested. But this arrangement was only for my job, not real dating. At least the guy I had to pretend-date for the foreseeable future wasn’t a complete misogynist. He’d resented Faith because her father claimed her, not because she was a woman and had stolen attention from him at the game. But since that was a secret, back to the story I’d come up with.

“Okay, no one finds out you and Faith are closely related. Instead, last night you had your first NHL start, your parents couldn’t be here, your AHL team was out of town, and your girlfriend”—I pointed to myself—“went out with Faith after the game instead of with you.”

He cocked his head. “That’s what you really did? I was invited, but I was…not ready to be around her.”

I understood, because I knew what had happened. Other people didn’t. “I posted a lot on social media last night. For our story, you wanted me to come and celebrate with you, but instead I went out with Faith, so you were pissed because you needed someone close last night and I bailed.”

He looked down at his hands. “I suppose that’s a better reason to sound like a whiny brat?”

I shrugged. “You obviously resented Faith. Better over me than the real reason.”

“So why doesn’t anyone know we were together?”

“Because of my job. The Blaze are really strict about players and employees not dating.”

He pulled his brows together. “But I was on the Inferno.”

“Made it a gray area. We didn’t want to risk my job until we knew this was serious. Now we have a special dispensation from the team.”

“But if you’re my reason for that video, how do we tell people that we’re dating?”

“We’re not going to have a press conference, not at first.”

He leaned back, eyes wide. “A press conference? About dating?”

He didn’t understand that here in Canada, playing in the country’s biggest market, the lives of popular hockey players could be examined like celebrities. Especially if the player was good. Playing in the AHL, he hadn’t felt the full force of it. But now he was in the NHL, and things were going to change.

“Not at first. If we do, it’ll look too obvious. We’ll drop some hints on social media, and when the press ask questions, we’ll answer.” Mostly, he would. The press didn’t have as much interest in women hockey players, especially someone like me out with an injury.

He swallowed. “I hope we won’t have to. What are we supposed to do on socials?”

Did he not remember what my job was? “I’ll be in charge of that. You don’t have to do much—like my posts. Give me access to your accounts and I can post some photos. We should start following each other now.” I reached out my hand for his phone. “I’ll take your number so I can send you instructions if needed.”

He shifted in his seat to pull his phone out of his pocket, showing the way his biceps flexed in his shirt sleeve and the strength in his thighs. He held the phone to his face and passed it over. I didn’t touch his email app, but found TikTok, Instagram and Snapchat and opened those to friend myself on each of them. I didn’t need to look at them, since I’d scanned them from my own accounts earlier while I was researching him. I sent myself a text, listing myself as just Jayna in his contacts.

“What we need to do now is set up our relationship.”

“Our relationship.” He drew in a breath. “Okay.”

I considered the best way to explain. “We met while I was at the practice arena for the Blaze when your team was there. I’ve been there, just not when the Inferno were, but no one will remember that.”

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