Page 53 of Playing to Win

Dad slapped my back. “Proud of you, Braydon.”

“It’s so great to see you both.” On my AHL salary, living on the outskirts of expensive Toronto, I hadn’t been able to fly them out to see me very often, and during the season I was tied up and couldn’t fly home myself.

“Let me see if I can find Jayna. She was working, so…”

I looked around. Before I could spot her, I heard an unfamiliar male voice demanding “Where is the kid?”

The kid the guy was looking for could have been anyone’s child, but I turned my head and met blue eyes, narrowed as they looked at me. I’d only seen this face in photos, but I knew it. Same blond hair as me, same height, same eyes. Frank Devereaux. I froze.

He barreled his way over. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you, Mitchell. My name is Frank Devereaux and the way you talked about my daughter?—”

There was a gasp behind me, and I finally managed to make my limbs move. I turned to see my mother, white as a ghost, with her hand on her chest, staring at Frank.

Devereaux paused his tirade, following my gaze to see who I was looking at instead of him. He blinked, pivoted his gaze back to me. And then, in an almost comical double take, looked back at my mom.

My dad, eyes flicking between me and Frank and my mom, questioned if she was okay. “Bree?”

That did it. I saw the gears moving in Frank’s brain. The shocked woman, the familiar face, the name, Bree, short for Brianna…and then back to me.

Seeing all the features I’d noted on him. Probably putting together Faith and me in that first game and understanding my rant. I wished I hadn’t done it, hadn’t let him know he had any impact on me, but it was too late for that.

“Brianna…Windsor?”

My dad, the one who raised me, stepped in front of Mom. “Brianna Mitchell.”

Frank shook his head. “Yes, but when I knew her?—”

Heads were turning now. Disaster was rolling out and I couldn’t think of a single thing to do to stop it. He was going to either flat-out say he’d had an affair with my mom, with me standing beside them looking like him, or he’d have people curious enough to start looking into my story.

“There you are!” Jayna interrupted, and I’d never been so happy to see anyone in my life. “I was finally able to get away. These are your parents?”

Jayna was smiling, but she pushed between me and Frank, separating him from my mom.

“Wait, I have questions?—”

Jayna turned to Frank. “Sorry, Mr. Devereaux, but we have plans.” She put her free arm, the one not holding her cane, around my mom, turning her away from Frank. “You must be Brianna Mitchell. Braydon has told me so much about you. I’m sorry I was late, but this is my job.”

My mom threw a glance over her shoulder, but Dad and I were right behind her, and she turned back to Jayna. She managed a smile. Not quite sticking the landing, but an effort. “Braydon told us you work for the team, but you play hockey as well.”

“Yes, I do, and I can’t wait to get back on the ice. Still getting the knee working again. I know a great place where we can talk and not have too much of a crowd. After tonight’s game, I’m sure a lot of people will be interested in Braydon.”

Mom let herself be swept down the hallway to where I’d parked my truck.

Dad caught my eye. “Smart girl there.”

I nodded. Very smart.

* * *

Jayna

The plane landedin Boston on time and without event. I’d left my cane behind. My knee felt strong enough, and traveling with it? A bitch. Not to mention that the way I fidgeted the whole flight I was likely to whack myself with the cane.

I just had my carry-on with me, and had gone through US Customs in Toronto, so I was quickly out of the airport and on my way to the arena.

I wished my nerves were all about the game. The Bonfire were playing the third game of their playoff series against Boston tomorrow. Boston had won Friday night, and the Bonfire Saturday night. Whoever won tomorrow would continue on to the playoff final game next weekend.

The Blaze didn’t play tonight or tomorrow, so I could finally be here for my team at a playoff game. One of the drawbacks of my expanded publicity responsibilities was prioritizing the Blaze. Money talked, and I had to walk with it. It was a treat to be here, but I would have been a lot happier if there wasn’t a risk of something blowing up in Toronto while I was gone. Still, there was something I could do here to help with damage control.

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