Page 24 of The Rebound Plan

I am an idiot.

My life has never been this good.

Earlier this summer, I signed my first big endorsement deal. It came out of nowhere because I’m not really a household name anywhere outside of Scotland—and really only in hockey rinks there. Of course, there are only thirty ice rinks in the whole country, so that’s not saying much.

That deal came about in part because of Max, ironically. He’s also sponsored by the same energy drink company. We have the same agent—along with twenty other pro hockey players—and he recommended me for the international markets.

Because that’s what a captain does, and for all his faults, he makes sure everyone knows how to get their bag.

The least I could do is stop thinking about fucking his wife.

Rivulets of water.

Yeah, that’s a work in progress.

From my en suite, I hear the water cut out.

Sighing, I push myself up.

A minute later, Emery comes bouncing out of the bathroom, hair still wet, dressed in jeans and a plaid shirt just like the other girls had arrived in.She’s a quick study.

“Hey, weird question,” she asks, her thumb flying over her phone screen. “Have you heard the rumours about a new league forming?”

“A women’s league?”

“No. Men’s.”

“Where? Here?”

She hands over the phone. “Watch for yourself.”

It’s a TikTok by an influencer who says they heard about it from a friend of a friend. A three-on-three league with no salary cap, called the Ice League.

I laugh. “Not a real thing. Don’t believe everything you hear on the internet.”

“This account has been right about some weird things before. I think they do have some insider information. And this isn’t the first time I’ve heard whispers of this. You haven’t heard anything?”

I stay off social media as much as is humanly possible, and I rely on my agent to pass on important news. Until he tells me this is a real possibility, I won’t believe it. “As much as you and I love this game, hockey is fighting for fourth place in North American TV rights. There isn’t enough money for the kind of thing she’s talking about.” I step around her. “I bet that rumour’s going to take off like wildfire, though. A lot of dummies want to believe in fairytales.”

For a hockey player, a league without a hard salary cap is a fantasy. The kind of romantic delusion that’s right up there with running away into the sunset with your captain’s hot wife.

I need to focus on what matters in reality. Getting my team as cohesive and hyped as possible before we head into training camp. I need to turn Hayden Calhoun from a reckless, wild offensive-generating puppy on ice into a smart, mature two-way player. And finding something, anything, anyone to redirect my lustful thoughts towards.

No more rivulets of water. No more black bikini fantasies.

CHAPTER 9

SHANNON

When I get out of the shower, Max is still on the phone.

I find clean clothes and put on underwear and a bra, then do my hair and make up next.

I’m almost finished when he steps into the bathroom and gives me a thumbs up for putting on a smoky eye with thick eyeliner.

“How was your call?”

“Good.” He doesn’t elaborate. “I like the black dress you hung up. Is that what you’re going to wear?”

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