Page 54 of Playing to Win

I went straight to the arena, where practice was wrapping up. Coach was taking it easy since the team had just played two hard games, but there was still a charge in the air. This was it—the playoffs. Lose tomorrow and we went home, season over. Win, and we were in the finals.

I slid into a seat near the glass, carry-on beside me, watching as Coach called the team in for her last words. Then she dismissed them, and I headed to the visitor dressing room. I’d been here many times and the way was familiar. No security, because our team didn’t attract a lot of attention, even for the playoffs.

I stood in the doorway for a minute before anyone noticed me, and my worry faded. It was so familiar—girls changing, chatting about what they’d been doing on the ice, heading for showers, complaining about the floors in the shower rooms.I should be here.

I would be here, next season. I had one more year on my contract with the Bonfire, and I wanted to be offered another.

“Tempo!” I shoved those thoughts aside as Anna Randall, the team captain, called my name.

“Randy! You guys did great last night.”

More of the women turned my way, offering comments and teasing. I was welcomed, even though I had nothing to offer them on the ice. But these were my girls, my ride or die group. Something I’d lose if I didn’t get back on my skates.

I needed to talk to Megan, but first, the team went out for dinner. A big group, and I took pictures to post online. The extra money I got from working for the Blaze was great, but it meant I sometimes missed this.

There was some teasing about my boyfriend, but I quickly diverted them to their upcoming game and got through it without lying too much. I didn’t like hiding the truth with the team, but too many people already knew about the fake dating. If it got out, people would be angry at the Blaze for manipulating them, but they’d also be angry with me and Braydon.

If the real reason for his rant was revealed…

I headed to the team hotel with Megan. Finally. It was a nice, plain, chain hotel room, just across the river from the arena. We shared a room, like we did when we played together.

Megan flipped on the light and flopped down on her bed. “Okay, spill. I’ve hardly seen you lately, what with working and practice. And you’re never home, it seems. What’s up with your fake boyfriend, and how is rehab going?”

I set my bag by the other bed and grabbed the extra pillows to make a backrest. There was nothing to discuss about my knee—still working on it, still not ready. That wasn’t why I was here. But how to start that conversation? “My parents came in to watch Braydon play.”

Megan turned to face me. “Okay, that had to be shitty.”

I sighed and looked at the ceiling. “They tried to forget I play and just fawned all over him. Well, you know them. They don’t care about my career, but an NHL one? Yeah, they loved that. Braydon kept making me part of the conversation. I mean, not that I wasn’t talking, but he bragged about my Olympic medal, like he was my real boyfriend supporting me. And when I’d had it with them, he left with me after telling them off.”

Megan lifted her head. “He did?”

“He did. It was amazing. Like, their heads were going to explode because a male hockey player was impressed by me. So I kissed him and took him home.”

Megan sat up with a big grin. “Tell me you slept with him.”

I nodded.

Megan pumped her fist. “You deserve that. I hope he gave excellent orgasm.”

I smirked. “Twice.”

Megan lifted a hand, and I fake high-fived her across the space between the beds.

“At least now you can get some while you’re tied up in this fake dating relationship.”

My stomach clenched and I shook my head. “Nah, it was a one-time thing.”

“Why? Why not get some of that while you can?”

“Because it’s not real.”

Megan scoffed. “Like you can’t sleep with someone unless you’re really dating. Come on, Tempo, I know you better than that.”

It felt…wrong. Like I was getting orgasms under false pretenses if we made hooking up part of our arrangement. Or maybe I was drawing this line so I remembered it was fake. Braydon was attractive, kind, and shared my passion for hockey, but that was the problem. I didn’t do hockey players. Not for real. Instead, I diverted to the real conversation I wanted to have with her. “I need to talk to you about something else. This is secret, okay?”

“More secret than fake dating?”

“Yeah. This is real. Something happened, and I’m not sure what the fallout is going to be, and someone close to Faith needs to know.”

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