Page 62 of Playing to Win

More surgery would probably keep me from playing for another season. I wouldn’t have a contract by the time I finished, and how would I get a team to sign me?

She shook her head. “This isn’t something surgery can fix. I wish I could give you better news, but the last scans… I’m afraid there’s nothing more we can do.”

This was it. I was done. I made the sentence in my head, but I couldn’t make it mean anything. Hockey had been my life for twenty years. What the hell was I supposed to do now?

“We’ll send the reports to the team. There will be paperwork, but take your time to process this.”

The team. The Bonfire were playing in the finals this weekend. I couldn’t let this news mess with the team, not before the most important game of the year.

“Can you hold off?”

She sighed. “Waiting won’t change the prognosis.”

“I understand.” The news was sinking in. “But it’s the Isobel Cup this weekend. I don’t want to distract the team.”

“It’s considerate to think of your teammates, but you’ll need support now.”

“Please.” My voice broke. “Just a week. I’d rather tell them after they’ve won the Cup. I’ll be fine for a few days.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Do you have family? Non-teammate friends to help you handle this in the interim?”

I nodded. Technically I had family, but damned if I was telling them. “I’ll talk to my friend Mattie. She doesn’t play hockey, so she won’t let the news out. I have family, and a boyfriend.”

I didn’t say when I’d talk to them. Could the doctor tell?

“I’ll give you a few more days. But Jayna, don’t try to deal with this on your own.”

I just nodded. I was stronger than she knew. I could handle it.

* * *

A couple of hours later,I was well on my way to pass-out drunk. I’d ridden the subway to the end of the line then got out, with no idea of where to go, just knowing I couldn’t go back to the apartment I shared with Megan. I’d ignored texts from her, Faith, Anna and Coach. I hoped the doctor hadn’t told the team yet, but in the meantime I couldn’t face them. How late was this bar open?

“Hey! Jayna Templin!”

I twisted around when someone called me. Of all the damned inconvenient times to be recognized.

It was a young guy, looking way too excited to see a woman hockey player. “I know you. You play hockey, right? Can I have a selfie?”

I frowned, trying desperately to make myself sound sober. I still represented the team, and I wasn’t going to blow that, not for my pity party.

“Sh-sure.” I ran my fingers through my hair, hoping it looked reasonable. The guy braced himself against the bar beside me and stretched out his arm. I did my best to move my muscles into my public smile. Hell, maybe I should have denied who I was?

The guy snapped a few shots and checked them. I peered over his shoulder, and while focusing was a little tricky, I didn’t see anything embarrassing.

“Is your boyfriend here?” His expression was still excited.

Boyfriend?Oh, Braydon.Of course. Interested in the NHL player. “No.” Didn’t expand on that when I might say too much.

My new bestie settled beside me for a chat. “I thought he was maybe an asshole, after that first game, you know?”

I nodded. The room swam, so I stopped.

“But if you’re dating him, he must be okay. I guess he was just pissed off that he couldn’t celebrate with you, huh?”

My phone buzzed. By habit, I checked the screen. “Lucky you. It’sh him.” I must have sounded a little too something, because he backed away.

“It’s okay. Didn’t mean to bother you.”

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