Page 28 of Playing to Win

“Yeah, I know.”

He really didn’t. All this—the big effort to clean up his image—was because he was a hockey player. Amalehockey player. The focus was on making Braydon look good. No one was setting up a fake dating act to help Faith. Hockey was his dream, and he was going to make a shit ton of money, play in packed arenas, get endorsement deals—because he had a dick. If he had a vagina, he’d have to work another job to support playing hockey, even professional women’s hockey. He’d play in partly filled arenas and be ignored between Olympics.

“Braydon.”

He looked up at me.

“I understand why you were pissed that your big debut was overshadowed by Faith starting the third period of your first game.” He opened his mouth but I kept going. “I know, you’d just found out about Frank, and that affected what you said and did on the video. But admit it, you were pissed. It was your first game, and someone else took all the attention from you. If you hadn’t been, if you’d played the whole game and Faith had stayed on the bench, you wouldn’t have gone off like that.”

He slumped in his chair. “You’re right. Part of me was upset about her getting all that attention. Does it make it any better that I’d have been pissed if it had been Reimer’s kid taking that last period?”

Mike Reimer was the goalie who’d taken the Blaze to the Cup. He had a kid, but that child wouldn’t be old enough to play anything but peewee yet. And yeah, that would have brought in a shit ton of attention. At least Braydon admitted it.

“Yeah, it was your debut. It’ll never happen again, and it will always be the game when a woman played. That’s how people are going to remember it. Faith stepped on your moment.”

He sighed.

“But you’re going to have other moments. Your playoff start. When you get a one-way contract and stay in the NHL. Your first million-dollar contract. Your stats are going to be tabulated, and you’ll get endorsements and fans. Your jersey will be in the stores, and you’ll see people wearing it.”

He’d sat up now. “Yeah, but?—”

I held up my hand. “That night? That’s all Faith gets.” I paused.

His mouth opened, but nothing came out.

“No NHL teams are going to sign her. The Blaze aren’t going to bring her on, even if something happens to Petrov as well. She’s going to have to rely on her husband to help pay for the place she lives and her daughter’s college fund because as good as she is, she makes peanuts playing hockey. No one is going to argue over her stats and debate if she’s overpaid. She’s going to fade back into women’s hockey obscurity, and you’re going to be someone people know. That was her moment. From now on, she’s just the answer to a trivia question.”

Braydon looked like he’d been hit on the head with a two-by-four. “But you guys are paid to play, right?”

I nodded. “If you want to call it that. We all have a second job—mine is working PR for the teams here. I did publicity for the Bonfire before I was injured because you can’t live on what we get paid, especially in a city like Toronto. My job is one they keep just for one of the players, to help out.”

“I didn’t understand.”

I told him the average salary for a player in the NWHL. I didn’t tell him what I made— it was above average but that wasn’t the point. People didn’t understand, because women’s hockey wasn’t flashy. And mostly, it wasn’t men. Women’s sports always came in second, and women hockey players came in second. Even if they medaled and played professionally.

I needed to keep my own issues buried. Braydon wasn’t my brother, and he didn’t need to be dragged into my family’s mess, but I was more passionate about this discrepancy because of my parents. I didn’t want to ruin the game for him, I just wanted him to appreciate how lucky he was. “Well, now you know.”

He drew in a long breath. “I realize how big an asshole I was. I’m sorry. I know I keep saying that, but I didn’t get it. She must hate me.”

And they were going to meet tonight.

* * *

Braydon

My nerves were jackedup like I was about to start a game as Jayna and I got out of the Lyft outside Cooper’s building.

“I think it’s bullshit,” I repeated.

Jayna had warned me not to say anything in the vehicle. She shrugged, but she was frowning.

“They’re going to blame you for distracting me?”

When that came up at the press conference, I hadn’t understood it was putting the burden on her. I’d avoided dating to cut down on distractions for hockey, because it would distract me, not because I’d blame someone else for my lack of concentration.

“That’s how it is, Braydon.”

It still bothered me. Jayna knew better than me, better than any of those reporters, what it was like to play in high-pressure hockey games. She wouldn’t do anything that would distract me. Especially when we weren’t really dating.

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