Page 1 of Playmaker

Chapter1

This dress might have been a mistake

Cooper

In frontof me was the eighteenth green of the most beautiful golf course in Canada, but all I could see was the arena. Overtime, Stanley Cup Final, and the puck was on my stick in the Minnesota zone. Their goalie moved to block my shot, so I passed to JJ?—

But JJ was on the bench getting stitches, and my pass to Crash was intercepted. Minnesota raced to our end, and I exerted every bit of strength I had left in my legs, but I couldn’t catch them. Was I getting too old? Were my twenty-nine-year-old legs not fast enough? The goal lit up and?—

“I’m going somewhere they’ve never heard of hockey.” Oppy, my teammate on the Toronto Blaze, frowned as he took a long gulp of expensive beer.

I blinked back to the here and now. Briarwood, a week later, golfing with my teammates. Several of the men at the table agreed with Oppy’s sentiment as they unwound after eighteen holes. I raised my glass with them. We all wanted to forget that loss, but we couldn’t.

I hoped Oppy had a great time. Me, I wasn’t going anywhere this summer, aside from one family obligation I’d prefer to ignore. My sole focus would be next year.

Umbrellas shaded us from the noonday sun, our view from the terrace that of lush grass, trees, water hazards and foursomes still working their way through the course. Briarwood was one of the most expensive clubs in the country, and it showed. The eight of us had finished our round an hour ago, and after eating, we were enjoying beer and relaxation.

“I’d be there now if we didn’t have this damned charity event tonight,” Oppy continued.

“Who the hell schedules a team event after the season is over?”

Silence fell across the table, because of how our season had ended in heartbreak.

“Shit. Sorry.”

It wasn’t Barnes’s fault. It was impossible to avoid hockey. We played hockey professionally, we lived in Toronto—a city that supported hockey above other sports—and we’d just lost the fucking Stanley Cup.

That was the reason I’d invited my teammates out to Briarwood. It hit us all hard, so as captain I’d been checking in, using my membership here to tempt the guys out where I could see how they were doing after that brutal loss.

I knew the answer to Barnes’s question. “Radner, the VP of PR, is the guy who set this up, and he’s retiring. They shouldn’t try it again.”

The guys wanted to go to their respective homes or getaways and lick their wounds. They didn’t want to sit around tables with adequate food making small talk with people who would undoubtedly ask what happened in that last game. No one who was on the ice that night wanted to rehash it.

“They’d better fucking not. I need a month where I never have to think about hockey, let alone talk about it.”

I wanted to warn Oppy that it was a short summer. Training camp started in September, and our bodies fell out of peak fitness quicker than we could get it back. But the long playoff run was draining, and rest was a weapon too.

“Am I the only one who keeps replaying that last overtime?” JJ asked quietly.

JJ was my partner on defense. We complemented each other perfectly—he stayed back, closer to our goal while I was more often in the offensive zone, making plays. Normally, I didn’t need to look to know where he would be on the ice.

But that last game…

JJ had been getting stitched up because he’d fallen onto our goalie, Petrov, on a previous play. Petrov’s backup, Mitchell, let in the goal. There was a lot of blame to claim.

“No one isn’t replaying that.” I assured him. “We just have to use it to move forward, not doubt ourselves.” It was easier said than done.

“I’m taking a month in Fiji. Then I’ll worry about moving forward.” Oppy looked around for our responses.

“That sounds awesome.” Ducky was our first line right winger, and hands down our most enthusiastic player as well as one of our top scorers.

“You want to come?”

Ducky shook his head. “I have to do something with my mom, and then I’m focusing on making this body”—he waved a hand down his five-foot-nine torso—“a lethal weapon.”

We laughed, as he’d intended. He was the shortest player on the team, but fast, with incredible hockey smarts. He’d had a great playoff run, but he blamed himself for not scoring in regulation, before overtime started.

“Laugh all you want, but you’ll see come training camp. Petey is gonna fear me.”

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