Page 97 of Goalie Interference

“What choice have I got? I’m not an American, and without a job, I have to go back to Canada.”

“Do you even want totryto see if there’s a way to make this work?”

“Don’t you understand that I have nothing to offer? No job, no home in the winter, not even a career to brag about.”

“Bullshit!”

I took a step back. She followed me, her forefinger hitting my chest hard enough to sting. “You don’t get to decide what is or isn’t good for me. That’smydecision. And here’s a news flash for you. I. Don’t. Care. About. Hockey.”

I blinked. “You were married to one of the best goalies in the game.”

She poked my chest again. “I had a crush on Ollie when he moved next door to us. Before he started playing hockey. And when we got together? He wasn’t playing anymore.” Her hand dropped and she took a step back. “Wait, do you think I was with him only because of his hockey career?”

I shook my head. No, Sophie wasn’t that shallow.

She sighed, eyes raising to the ceiling before meeting my gaze. “I’ve lived my whole life in the shadow of men who are successful. You really think that’s what I want?”

My mouth opened but no words came out. I’d never considered it from that angle. I knew her father ignored her in favor of Cash, since Cash was so successful. But I hadn’t thought that even without that she’d always been Ryder Williams’s daughter. Cash’s sister. Otts’s wife. NotSophie, not to others.

“No?” I hoped like hell I was getting this right.

“I don’t need any reflected glory. I’ve had enough of that to choke me.”

“But I have no idea what I’m doing next. Where I’m going to be.”

“And?”

“I guess I just didn’t know what I had to offer.”

She crossed her arms. “You’d better not be saying that to manipulate me.”

I wouldn’t know how. “No, ma’am.”

She held up a finger. “You don’t care who my dad is.”

“I’m not a big country music fan.”

A second finger shot up. “Or who my brother is.”

“I do like him.”

“But you haven’t asked for an autograph, or to get to meet him.”

I hadn’t asked, but I had met him at the house. A little voice in my head told me not to bring that up.

Finger number three. “You don’t care who my ex is.”

I had to respond to that. “Actually, that I do care about.”

She straightened up. “Why?”

“Because he’s my coach.”

She waved her fingers. “Fair point. But you’re not starstruck.”

I snorted. “Hard to be after sharing locker rooms. Not that Otts and I played on the same team, but.”

Her hand dropped. “You’re one of the few people I know who sees just me. Sees me and likes me. And after years of being overlooked, that’s incredible.”

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