Page 94 of Playing to Win

“Braydon’s project has been funded to about a hundred thousand dollars. That will provide some equipment, travel, promo and organization. I know you’ve worked in PR, but Faith thinks you could do some of the admin, keep it organized for this summer while we’re working out the kinks.”

Now I was even more suspicious. “How did Braydon get funding? The Cooper Foundation?”

He smirked. “There is no Cooper Foundation. I provided some, not all of it.”

“My dad is putting money in.”

I turned to Faith. “What?”

She grimaced at me. “For his own reasons, and Braydon is willing to take it. He thinks it’s worth it to help other kids who are in situations like his growing up.”

Was Frank trying to get in good with Braydon, or ensure his silence? “Wow.”

Cooper looked like he knew something was up but was willing to let it slide. “If you’d travel with Braydon and his friends for the summer, keep things under control and promote the hell out of it, there’d be enough money to keep you covered till fall. Then you can find some other clients or another job.”

Was I willing to spend the summer with Braydon, helping his camps and making sure the nontraditional kids who wanted to play weren’t overlooked? Potentially working with some of those overlooked hockey groups and helping them become part of what hockey was known to be? It sounded too good to be true.

“What’s the catch?”

Cooper smirked. “Sadly, you’re likely to be called a WAG.”

That…would take some getting used to. My mom would be thrilled. Almost enough to make me say no to spite her. But I wasn’t that stupid. “Thanks, to all of you. I’ll try to handle the WAG stuff.”

Faith raised her glass. “To Tempo. And Mitchell—he’s the one who asked us to step in.”

My gratitude to Braydon would be shown in ways that weren’t safe for work.

Chapter28

There was always hope

Braydon

We wonour first series of the playoffs and life got even more intense. We couldn’t add more physical training, since it was the end of the season and most of the guys were pushing against exhaustion. But we had video to watch, and Cooper organized a lot of team events while we were on the road. Dinners, movies, different outings to help with morale. When we were on the road we were always together, and when we were at home there was always a chance to hang out with teammates.

I’d been worried about Jayna, but that meeting with Cooper and Faith to get something going for her had turned things around in the best way. It had relit that fire inside her. Seeing the interest in her eyes, the excitement in her voice when she talked—it made me feel incredible.

She’d set up a website for her new company and reached out to different organizations about her business. And she picked up the reins on my project and ran with it.

I gave her the information I had, and wow. I’d set up the idea, got some guys to agree, and planned to work out the details when I was done with the playoffs. Jayna nailed everything down. She didn’t take over—she asked me about every decision she made. It was less work for me. But somehow, whenever I got focused on watching some extra game film on my own, or wanted to just get into my hockey mindset, juggling or stretching, she had more questions. She stayed over almost every night I was home, working on the project, or her business, or having sex. I couldn’t dampen that spark by asking her to back off.

I loved the sex. Waking up with her. Watching her become the strong woman I’d first met again. I wanted to ask how she was feeling about hockey and especially us. Did she think we had a future?

But I held back. What if she said this was fun but she wasn’t going to get serious about a hockey player? What if I had to choose between dating Jayna and playing hockey? Or what if I didn’t even have a choice? Would that be worse for my game than not knowing? There was always hope, until I asked.

The guys on the team were all tired and bruised, hiding injuries. The first series, against Philly, had been six games. The second round was a brutal seven games including several overtimes against a strong Florida team. They’d been favored to win, but we’d pulled it out. Now we were playing Montreal for the conference championship. I was the only one on the team without a lot of mileage.

The potential last game of the series was in Toronto. We expected a close, vicious contest. We were up three games to two, and it was our home ice. But sometimes shit just happened.

Two of their forwards collided five minutes in, and somehow fell hard enough to keep them both off the ice for the rest of the game. Their goalie missed a couple of easy shots, while Petey made a highlight reel save that energized us even more. At the end of the second period we were up 5-0 and they’d had their top defenseman expelled from the game for making homophobic comments about the referee. They managed to get a puck in their own net, and it was all over. Coach decided to give our top lines a break. Petey was called out, and I was in.

I skated out, sliding my glove over the bars, my stick across the goal line. Crash skated by, asked if I was ready.

I nodded and hoped I was.

Montreal got back on the ice with renewed energy, but they were facing an uphill battle and they knew it. I stopped a couple of shots, Crash scored another goal, and that broke what little hope they had. We played till the final whistle, but the stands were emptying as the clock wound down.

The handshake was anticlimactic. But it was a relief. I could play. I didn’t have to choose between helping Jayna and keeping my game up.

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