Page 61 of Playing to Win

She turned, propping her head on her hand. “They are. For Wayne, my brother. A lot of the time I used his hand-me-down hockey gear because they’d invest in hockey equipment for him. My dad wouldn’t miss one of Wayne’s games.”

I reached over, squeezing her free hand. I fought to keep my eyes from wandering over her naked body.

A frown creased her brow. “I think if I’d been more like my mom—watching hockey, not playing it—that we’d have been okay. Dad would have still focused on my brother, but I might have resented it less.”

“You wanted to play though.”

Her shoulder shrugged, jiggling her boobs, and I couldn’t resist a quick look. I moved my gaze back to hers as quickly as I could. I caught a grin on her face and she dropped her own eyes to check me out.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

She leaned over and kissed me, making my heart lurch. “It’s flattering. You know, when I think about it, I probably started playing because I thought my dad would pay attention to me. And once I started I wanted to keep going.”

“How do you handle that?” I’d had to fight to get to where I was, but I’d always had my parents behind me. They still were my biggest fans, even though they didn’t like my sport.

“I see them as rarely as possible. The first few years it hurt, when a couple of months would go by and I wouldn’t hear from them unless I reached out first. I mean, I actually tested it one time, waiting to see when they would message or call to see if I was okay.”

That was so wrong.

“But I made a new family. Growing up, I had a friend named Mattie back in Brandon. She has a similar problem with her sister, so we propped each other up when our families were particularly bad. Since I left home, my support group is my teammates. We’ve all had to struggle to play, and we all have that drive. It’s a little twisted when we play for our countries and suddenly are playing against each other, but still, my closest people are on the team.”

I should do something nice for my parents.Maybe we’d take a trip somewhere in the offseason. I would be working at home for most of the summer, on a project I’d been pulling together with some college friends and guys on the Inferno, but I could fit in a break. Mom wasn’t going to want to come back to Toronto anytime soon. “So, next season you’ll be playing again. How long is your contract?”

“I was lucky to get a two-year deal, and it runs to the end of next season.”

With the way Jayna played, that was shortsighted. “They should have locked you down for more.”

“Thanks, but that doesn’t happen, not in our league. We only got one-year contracts initially.”

She didn’t know how long she’d be playing for Toronto. The team was her family, and she might not be part of them anymore. I wanted to be part of her support group. But I was also tied to my contract. I could be traded. Sometime, if I was good enough and old enough, I might be able to add a no-trade clause, and pick and choose teams when I was a free agent. But that wasn’t certain, and wasn’t yet.

Would she even want that kind of offer from me?

“Is Faith one of the people you’re close to?”

Jayna nodded. “Megan is the sister I never had. Faith, Anna and a couple others have been the core of the team for a few of years now.”

“Tell me about them.”

I wanted to distract her from her uncertain future, and her parents. And I was curious about these women, especially Faith. For half an hour we lay there, naked, talking. About teammates, places we’d played—just talked. I didn’t care what we talked about. I just wanted it to continue. To see her expression moving, hands shaping ideas as she spoke. Learning more about Jayna.

This wasn’t fake for me anymore. But since I couldn’t ask for more, or end things, all I could do was enjoy what I could while she was with me.

Chapter19

Superfan

Jayna

“I’m sorry,Jayna. You’ve worked hard and done everything you possibly could. But your knee hasn’t recovered, and I cannot see any chance that it will regain full strength. You’ll be able to walk, and skate recreationally, but it can’t handle the stress that playing hockey will place on the joint.”

I stared at the doctor, her words flowing around me but not making sense.

My knee had to recover. It was a stupid hit, and I’d had surgery and done everything they told me. I’d done extra sessions and rehab out of my own pocket. I’d doneeverything.She said so. It had to work.

But she was still watching me with that sympathetic doctor expression, pity in her eyes. The same expression the therapists had worn lately. Thewe’ll try but it’s not going to worklook.

“More surgery?”

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