Page 69 of Playmaker

“You didn’t tell me why you didn’t become a lawyer.”

“Does it offend you that I didn’t pursue your profession?”

She rolled her eyes. “Look at all those fancy words from the dumb jock. No, I’m just curious why, considering your background.”

Who knew what the fuck my family would say if it came up? I should explain, prepare her. “Spite had a big part in it, especially after the incident with Vicky. My family thought I was wasting my time with hockey, and I didn’t want to live my life in their shadow.”

She was still frowning.

“Not a good enough reason for you?”

“Just thinking.”

“That I was petty?”

“That you either had enough privilege growing up that you could take that kind of gamble, or a passionate drive to play so you were willing to risk screwing up your future.”

I took a sip of my drink while I worked through what she’d said. “Both. I grew up with a lot of privilege, and I had a safety net. But also, to make it to the pros you have to love doing it. It’s too damned hard to do it as a hobby.”

Callie had that crease between her brows as she processed the information I’d given her. “Let me see if I understand the dynamics for this visit. Your family is going to put you down while you flaunt your success in their faces.”

It didn’t sound flattering when she distilled it down like that. “Are you sorry you agreed?”

She shook her head. “Now I understand why I’m the perfect plus-one.”

I watched her expression, checking if she was pissed. “Does that bother you?”

“You told me your brother was like Benson. Assuming that’s correct, I’ll enjoy helping you flaunt.”

“Benson only wishes he could be an asshole on my brother’s level.”

She pursed her lips. “Do they follow hockey? Because your team lost the finals. Will that be something they use against you?”

“They’ll try.”

“And what will you do?”

“Pretend I don’t care about losing as long as I get paid.”

“They believe that?”

They certainly did. Time for a subject change. “You said you were in foster care. What happened to your family?”

Her expression closed up. “I don’t have one.”

“You sprang up out of—what was it, some guy’s head? Or a seashell?”

She rolled her eyes. “No. I have no idea who my father was. Neither did my mother. She was an addict. I bounced in and out of care till I was ten. She’d come back, swear she’d gotten clean and that she loved me and wanted me back. It never lasted.”

“And when you were ten?”

“She stopped coming back.”

Shit.I thought my family was fucked. Callie stared out the window, lips pressed tightly together. Things about Callie made a lot more sense now.

Chapter20

He needed a slapping

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