Page 68 of Playing to Win

I shoved down the thought that maybe I didn’t know what I was doing.

Chapter21

It’s better than Po

Jayna

Something was poundingin my head. My mouth was desert dry, and my eyes felt like they’d been rubbing against sandpaper. I’d either just picked up the king of all flu bugs, or I’d abused myself last night. What had I done? A little voice in the back of my head said I didn’t want to know. But I had to. I couldn’t stay… Where was I?

I was in a bed, but not my own. The sheets felt different, and the smell was definitely not my room. I cracked my eyes open, relieved that there were window coverings, so only streaks of light lanced my dry eyes. A guy’s room. Hockey guy. Inferno, or Blaze—Braydon.

Everything flooded back and I shut my eyes against the memories. My knee. No more hockey. The bar, Superfan, Braydon. Braydon talking about his plan for the summer to distract me. He had a good idea, one that a Jayna who wasn’t hungover and facing the loss of her career could help him with. Instead, I’d cried all over him.

I groaned and rolled over. Full credit to Braydon. He hadn’t told me everything would be fine, or what I should do. He’d just let me soak his T-shirt for… I didn’t even know how long. Pretty sure I’d cried myself to sleep, because I had no memories of anything after.

What time was it? I’d left my phone somewhere, but it must have a shitload of messages and texts. Ignoring everyone last night had not been my brightest idea, but I’d needed the break. Time now to face the music.

I opened my eyes again and shoved up into a slouch against the headboard. There was a water bottle on the table beside the bed, and some painkillers. Braydon—he’d done that last night too. My phone was there, on the charger, and a note scribbled on the back of a receipt.

Had to go. I messaged your boss—said you hadn’t been feeling well and I wasn’t sure if you’d be in. Hope that was okay. Call me if you need anything.

Was it okay? It was interfering in something that wasn’t his problem, but it meant I had a buffer before I had to face the world again. I checked the time on my phone, ignoring all the notifications.

I swallowed the pills and washed them down with water. Emptying the bottle emphasized how dry I was. I also needed the bathroom. I managed to stand, and found my jeans and sweater folded on the dresser. Had Braydon taken those off, leaving me in my T-shirt and underwear, or had I forgotten doing it myself? Not like he hadn’t seen it all before. I pulled on the clothes and found the bathroom.

I grabbed my phone, still ignoring the messages, and opened the Lyft app. Then I heard the door open downstairs and someone come in.

I stepped into the hall. “Braydon?”

“Luke.”

“It’s Jayna.”

“I know.” His tone was curt. Someone wasn’t happy I was around.

“I’ll get out of your way.”

I started down the stairs, and heard him sigh. “You don’t have to. Want something to eat?”

Did I? My stomach was surprisingly settled, no upchucking— Then I remembered puking in the driveway. Shit. I had to clean that up before I left.

“Sure.” Food would give me another reason to postpone dealing with reality. Mr. Grouchypants had offered so maybe he wasn’t as put out as he sounded.

Mr. GP was in the kitchen, throwing things into a frying pan. His hair was damp and he was wearing Inferno sweats. Probably showered at the arena after practice. He looked up when I made it to the kitchen, mouth frowning. “Anything you don’t eat?”

“Liver.” I slumped onto a stool.

Luke checked me over. “No liver in this. You going to live?”

“Killer hangover.”

He turned back to the frying pan. “Yeah, that happens when you drink too much. Probably better not to do that very often.”

I rolled my eyes. Like he hadn’t done the same. “Great advice.”

“This is breakfast in a pan. Bacon, sausage, onion, potato, eggs and cheese.”

My nose twitched. “It smells great.”

---