Page 70 of Playing to Win

I shrugged, doing my best to act casual. Not like I’d had devastating news. “They have to redo a couple of tests, so still waiting.”

I didn’t want to be a distraction for my teammates when they were preparing for the biggest game of their season. I could give the bad news later, when it wouldn’t affect their chances.

Megan put her hand on her chest. “Thank god. I was worried the news had been bad when I didn’t hear from you.”

“It was frustrating. I wanted to put it all behind me, so I spent some time with Braydon.”

“You were working?”

I almost denied it but managed to keep my mouth closed. Last night hadn’t been work. I’d answered the call from Braydon, not the ones from my friends and teammates. He’d come to get me from the bar because he’d worried about me. I hadn’t even posted on social media about that.

Spending time with Braydon wasn’t work. He was…a friend. With whom I’d had sex, and great orgasms. He was closer to a real boyfriend than I’d had in who knew how long. If he’d just been a regular guy, someone I’d started dating because I liked him, not as part of my job, I’d want to pursue this thing between us.

But he was a hockey player, and I didn’t want to be defined by my partner. And right now I was a mess. I still had to deal with losing my hockey career. I’d have to find something else to do to support myself. My job with the Bonfire was earmarked for a player on the team, to boost their hockey earnings to a living wage. I didn’t even know if the Blaze would let me work for them once I was no longer part of the Bonfire.

Braydon was also heading into his first NHL playoffs. I couldn’t mess with that. He didn’t need the distraction, and I didn’t want to get any more attached to him. We had no future, so the sooner we were done, the better.

* * *

Braydon

Practice had been difficult.Being up late, not having my run—I’d been slow, brain not reacting any better than my body. Coach had kept me after the others, so as I sat in my cubby, still in my compression gear at the end of practice, I was almost the only one here.

I checked for something from Jayna. Nothing. Luke messaged that she’d had breakfast and left in a Lyft. She’d been feeling the pain of her hangover, he said, but otherwise she was fine. I didn’t want to bother her. Sometimes if you got bad news, you just wanted space to deal with it. She’d gone alone to a bar after hearing from her doctors instead of calling friends, and then spent the night with me, so apparently she’d wanted that.

There was a message though, from Faith Devereaux. She invited Jayna and me for dinner so that she and I could get to know each other.

I didn’t want to get to know Frank Devereaux, and if Faith invited him, I’d turn this down. The man had been an asshole when he got my mom pregnant, and he’d been an asshole when I met him a week ago. Faith, though, I’d like to get to know. Unless she had more of her father in her than I’d seen so far. I sure as hell hopedIdidn’t.

If Jayna needed space, I didn’t want to pressure her. But she knew her teammate, and I didn’t. As well, Jayna was invited to this dinner. And if she didn’t come with me, we’d need to agree on why.

Faith invited us for dinner. Will she invite her father?

There was no immediate response, so I stripped down and showered. I didn’t get the ping I was looking for till I was almost home.

Not a chance. Do you want to go if he’s not invited?

I think so.

Okay. See you there.

She didn’t want to see me tonight. Tomorrow night was a game, this dinner the next night, which meant I wouldn’t see her for a couple of days.

Should I have stayed this morning? Was she upset that I hadn’t? I’d wanted to, but after talking to Luke I had to go. He was right. I knew that.

Time to watch some video, on the off chance I’d get to play tomorrow. Not be distracted by someone who was only dating me for her job.

* * *

Faithand her husband lived in a condo downtown, not far from the arena. I got there before Jayna did, so I was alone to face Faith’s husband Sebastien when he answered the door. Their daughter Hailey was hanging on to her father’s legs, peering at me with suspicion. Kinda like her dad.

“Mitch, come in.” He picked up his daughter, who never moved her gaze from me. “This is Hailey. Hailey, this is Braydon—you okay if she calls you that?”

“Sure.” I wasn’t going to ask her to call me uncle.

The toddler pointed a hand at me. “Don,” she stated firmly.

“Braydon,” her dad repeated.

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