Page 9 of Playing to Win

“The trolls out?” Faith asked.

“Haters gotta hate, you know.”

“They’re not going to stop us though.” Faith’s confidence came through in her voice and words. “You get your knee healthy and we’ll show the haters how good we can be.”

I hugged Faith, her belief in what we could do just what I needed then. My knee wasn’t improving as quickly as I wanted, but I was impatient. I wanted to play.

I congratulated her again and followed Megan out the door. A small step today, maybe, but it was a giant leap for women hockey players.

Who knew what tomorrow might bring?

Chapter4

A paddle named Braydon Mitchell

Braydon

A mariachi bandstarted jackhammering in my head when my roommate/teammate yelled in my ear.

“Shh.” I waved an arm at him, eyes firmly closed, hoping he’d lower his voice. Or even better, leave.

Luke did lower his voice, but it still rang through my brain. “Mitch, you have to get up. The Blaze want you at their office ASAP.”

I groaned and tried to bury myself in my pillow until the uncomfortable tightness of my jacket filtered into my brain.Shit. I’d gone to bed drunk and fully dressed. Why the hell had I done that? That wasn’t me. Two-beer limit, and I hadn’t broken it in years. The band pounded in my head and I swore, never again. Not drinking ever again.

Luke was still there, shaking my shoulder. “Come on, Mitch. You gotta get up.”

I moaned and rolled onto my side. Sunlight coming in the window made me rethink the idea of opening my eyes. Too late for my run, and how was I going to make practice today? But Luke saidthe Blaze.Everything came rushing back. Getting called up to play. Two periods, then Faith Devereaux in net. Big excitement. Calling my mother after the game.

My stomach rolled at that and I launched myself out of the bed to lurch to the bathroom where I upchucked an appetizing mess of alcohol and bile. I knelt, panting over the toilet bowl. Luke brought me water and ibuprofen.

“Thanks.” My voice was growly, my throat raw. I swallowed the pill and rinsed my mouth while I took stock of my body. The headache was still wrapped around my brain like a vise, but the painkillers would take care of that. My mouth tasted like I’d crawled through a sewer, but other than some sore muscles I was doing okay. Muscle ache was familiar after a game.

My eyes flew open, and I stared up at Luke, still patiently waiting beside me. “I fucking won a game in the NHL!”

Luke nodded, but he was holding back. Why? We’d joined the Inferno at the same time and roomed together the last two years. He shouldn’t be jealous—he’d get his chance. He was our best D-man right now.

“Yeah, congrats. We caught the highlights after the game. That shot in the first, when it hit the post? That made me worry, but once the nerves left, you had it. The guys want to come over tonight to celebrate.”

Of course they did. The team was a pretty good group, and they loved to party. I, however, would be sticking to nonalcoholic beverages. No drinking, no skipping practice. I had to get back to the plan. My dream was so close, I couldn’t do anything to risk it.

The memory of my conversation with my parents intruded again. Learning about my sperm donor had been the reason I’d found a bar and overdone it. I had a vague recollection of tequila shots and fought back the nausea again.

“What happened, dude? You never do this kind of shit.” He waved a hand at me still hugging the toilet. “What about the two-drink limit and working out before practice?”

I groaned. “Long story. Fuck, I feel bad.”

“There’s coffee on, and you should shower. You stink.”

I pushed myself to my feet. “You’re the best. Thanks. Wait, what did you say before? The Blaze want to see me?”

That was good news, right? Maybe they needed me for another game, and weren’t going with Faith? I pushed aside everything related to the Devereaux family and put my mind where it needed to be. Hockey was my first and only priority. If the NHL team who’d called me up to play last night needed to see me, I needed to get my hungover ass to their facility ASAP.

“Yeah. They couldn’t get you on your phone, so they called Coach Jones and he called me.”

Fuck.I felt through my pockets and found the phone, dead. “Shit.”

Feeling a little more confident on my feet, I went back to the bedroom, nose wrinkling at the smell. Time to do laundry. I plugged the phone into the charger and the thing lit up like a Christmas tree.

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