Page 88 of Unrivaled

“Jesus.” Baller was not having the same issue with fullness Grady was, because he popped in another piece of sushi. When he’d swallowed, he said, “Tell me you at least left him a nasty voicemail.”

No, he hadn’t. Because he was a coward. Grady shook his head. “Blocked his number.”

Baller had been leaning on his elbow, but now he slipped and his hand slapped against the table. “Seriously?”

Grady flinched, but the other diners didn’t seem to notice.

“Seriously?” Baller asked again, quieter this time. “You had feelings that intense and you didn’t even break up with him in person to get closure? That’s fucked, dude.”

“How was I gonna break up with him in person from a plane over the Midwest?” Grady said, bitchy.

“On the phone, then, dipshit. You know what I mean.”

Grady crossed his arms. Suddenly that sushi wasn’t sitting well. “I didn’t want to talk to him after that, okay?”

For a few seconds, Baller quietly sipped his beer. Then he said, “Can I give you some free advice?”

“Are you going to tell me anyway even if I say no?”

“Yeah.” He leaned forward again. “Look, I can’t blame you for not wanting to talk to the guy if he really ran his mouth to his team.”

Grady waited for thebut.

Because Baller was a contrary asshole, he went with another word. “However. What if he didn’t? What if he didn’t say anything and you ghosted him and he has no idea why? How are you going to know if you don’t confront him about it?”

Grady flexed his hands under the table as his gut twisted.

What if? That would explain the texts he’d gotten before he blocked Max’s number. None of them struck him as something Max would’ve said if he felt smug about siccing Hedgie on Grady. Or even if he’d done it accidentally and regretted it.

But that could’ve been part of the game, right?

“I’m just saying.” Sometime during the past few minutes, Baller had signaled for and paid the check without Grady noticing. Damn. Now he slid the folder toward the end of the table. “I once broke up with Gabe because he canceled a dinner reservation for my birthday when I had a dislocated elbow. I figured he was still too afraid people would find out and I’d be his dirty secret forever, so I bounced. Turned out my birthday present was my dream couple’s vacation. What if I never found out?”

Grady was used to Baller as a joker, a smiling, easygoing guy who loved hockey and being the center of attention. He could be serious—Grady had experienced it firsthand—but he preferred not to be. Now, he was solemn and even sad. “No husband. No Reyna. Maybe no Cup either. I might’ve been traded earlier if we couldn’t play well together.”

Grady let out a slow breath, but the nausea didn’t subside. Had he made a mistake? The only way to know was to talk to Max. But he didn’t know if he was ready to know the truth. “What if he doesn’t…?”

Baller didn’t make him finish the question, just gave a minute shake of his head. “At least you’ll know.”

Would it be better, though? If Max had loved him and Grady had fucked it up, would knowing be better?

Grady didn’t know.

THE YEARturned over and Max hit a funk.

He was sure it would be temporary, but in the meantime, he was suffering. He grinded his way through games, but his production went down. He spent a lot of time on his couch with Gru, rubbing the soft places behind his ears.

But today he was on El’s couch with her while Hedgie was filming a promo spot for Gatorade or something. Two days ago the team got test results back for their injured defenseman. He’d separated his shoulder and would be out indefinitely.

Which meant the Monsters were in danger of losing their season, and the internet was abuzz with rumors that management would trade Hedgie for a replacement defenseman.

“I swear to God,” El said, “if they send us to Winnipeg—”

“Why Winnipeg?” Max broke in.

El popped a handful of peanut M&Ms into her mouth, threw the last one at Max’s head, and then drummed her fingertips on the curve of her belly. “This is a worst-case scenario, Maximus. Pay attention.”

Max caught the candy left-handed and crunched down on it. “Sorry. Why’s Winnipeg the worst, though?”

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