Page 98 of Playing to Win

“I’m kinda disappointed you don’t have horses and cattle. I mean, Montana,” Jayna teased.

My dad laughed. “With Bree working at the diner and me on the road so much, those animals would be seriously neglected. We’re not ranchers, just regular people.”

“The house isn’t very big.” My mom reached across the table to touch Jayna’s hand. “But we’re looking forward to having you and Braydon around.”

Jayna froze, and I had no idea why my mom’s touch would do that. Then I noticed she was looking at the doorway.

Frank Devereaux. My parents turned to see what we were staring at. Frank noticed us. I willed him to walk out, but instead he crossed directly to our table.

I looked at my mom, worried about how she’d respond. She reached for Dad’s hand and gripped it tightly, but sat up straight. She wasn’t shocked this time.

Frank stopped at the end of the table. “Hello, Jayna.” His gaze flickered between the three Mitchells. “Bree, Braydon and…?”

“Sam Mitchell,” Dad said.

“I don’t want to intrude. I just wanted to apologize to you, Bree, and to Braydon.” He met my mother’s gaze. “What I did was wrong. Your son is a reflection on how well you and your husband raised him.” He turned to me. “Good luck with the game, and your program for the summer. Let me know if I can do anything more. Just, we can keep this between us, right?”

I nodded. Then he turned and left. The table was silent.

“Are you okay, Mom?” She was still clinging tightly to Dad’s hand.

She nodded. “I appreciate the apology. I don’t want to spend time with him, but I wouldn’t stand in your way if you wanted to get to know him.”

I shrugged. “He’s supporting my program, so I appreciate that but…I don’t know. Not really feeling it. I’ve spent time with Faith.”

My mom blinked. “Oh, your…sister.”

I nodded. “She thinks I had a better home life, for what that’s worth. She has a daughter.”

My mom drew in a long, shuddering breath. “Your niece. Does Faith know…”

“Yeah, she does. Frank told her.” I didn’t plan to tell my mom the details of that awkward and unpleasant lunch. “I think we’re going to be friends.”

“I might need some time, Braydon, but once I’ve wrapped my mind around everything, maybe we could meet up, if she wished.”

I swallowed and blinked fast. Not used to the drama.

Jayna broke the tension. “Well, may I just say that Bree and Sam Mitchell win the award for best parents of everyone involved.”

* * *

I hada hard time getting my nap in after that. Jayna came home with me and asked if I wanted to talk. I didn’t. I just wanted to get into my hockey bubble and put all the rest of this aside.

“I get it. Hockey first.”

Was that sarcasm? She understood, right?

“I’ll see you after the game.” She kissed me, and for once I wasn’t tempted to prolong it. “You’ll be great. I’ll be with your parents, and we’ll catch you after.”

I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling. When I tried to focus on my routine, the carefully structured rituals that put me in the right mental place to play, my mind insisted on wandering. Frank. My mom. Faith. Mom meeting Faith and Hunter and Hailey. Jayna.

Thoughts of Jayna led to thinking about the camp, and what would happen next fall. Would I be on the Blaze, or the Inferno, or be traded elsewhere? If I was here, what was going to happen with Jayna? Would she get sick of me this summer? Would she decide being with a hockey player was too much?

I finally dozed off and slept through my alarm. I had to rush to the arena and barely got ready in time. My mind wasn’t focused the way it should be, so it was a relief that Petey was in net again. Some other season I’d want to be that guy, but not right now.

It was a close, difficult game. At the end of three periods, everyone—well, everyone but me—was hurting, but running on adrenaline and determination. The score was tied. Overtime, game six of the finals, make-or-break time.

In the locker room after the third period, Coach assured us we could do it. If we wanted it badly enough, it would happen. We marched out for the first overtime period with the crowd cheering us on.

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