Page 12 of Hot for the Hockey Player
I was about to scoff and say, “I wish,” but I caught myself and just shook my head.“Naw, man.It’s not like that.She was my host—” I couldn’t bring myself to call her my host mom, even though a lot of my past teammates did call their host families, host dad or host mom.I never could.“When I played for the Spokane Chiefs, she hosted me for three years.I remember those kids when they were babies.And she was a great cook then too.”
Understanding dawned in Logan’s blue eyes and he nodded.“Gotcha.So she’s like a mom—”
“No,” I blurted out, instantly regretting my strong response.I cleared my throat.“Naw, not really.I mean … My parents paid for me to live there.It was like a glorified dorm room kind of thing.”
Was I protesting too much?
Logan’s nonchalant shrug and the easy way his brows settled said he believed me.
Phew.
I was a terrible liar, always had been.
“Anyway, I’m getting PT with Maz at Unger Wellness, and literally bumped into Gabrielle and her cheese at the grocery store earlier today.”
“And her cheese?”Logan snorted.
“Knocked it right out of her hands.But she invited me for dinner, and I probably ate my weight in chicken parm and Caesar salad.”
“As one should.”
I lifted my mug in a one-man toast.“Exactly.”
Another drink order popped up on the ticket machine from the server further down the bar, but Logan fixed the rum and coke while still chatting.“You’re from back East too, right?”
“West Virginia,” I said with a nod.“You?”
“Boston.Couldn’t get the fuck out of there fast enough.I’ve found my happy place, and it is on the West Coast.No more hurricanes for this guy.”
I lifted my beer up in another toast.“Amen to that, brother.My agent keeps trying to get me deals for a team back East, says there’s more money there, but I don’t give a fuck.I want to stay in the West.Even though Portland isn’t on the water, it’s close enough.”
“You in a contract year?”
My head bobbed.“Yeah.”I sipped more of my delicious beer.“This injury couldn’t have come at a better time,” I said sarcastically.“Out for the rest of the season …”
“That’s what they’re saying?”
“That’s what they’re recommending.But I’m hoping to get back for the playoffs, or at least mid-way through.I can’t miss half the season, then expect to get a decent contract when they have no idea how I’ll play after my injury.”
Maybe it was a big mistake to be telling all of this to a total stranger, but something about Logan told me I could trust him.I really hoped my instincts weren’t wrong.
“What actually happened on the ice?”he asked.“I didn’t watch the game, but I caught the highlights.”
“Barbier checked me hard from behind.Sent me crashing into Hoff, and I landed in a fucked-up way.Got a concussion and crushed my L3 and L4.”
“Shit,” he said in surprise.“Barbier is a bulldozer.I’ve watched a few games where that guy just goes into a tight cluster of players like a fucking bowling ball.Doesn’t give a shit if it’s his teammates or the other team.He just knocks ’em all down like they’re pins.”
“Yep.We’ve had a bit of a rivalry with the Riptides this season.Barbier hooked Franks—one of our best scorers—last time we played them, and he was out with a sprained wrist for four games.So while there wasn’t exactly a bounty on Barbier’s head, we knew to keep our eyes on him.”
“And you turned your back—”
“And I turned my back.I was so focused on getting the puck away from Hoff, I totally forgot that Barbier is more brawn than brains and doesn’t hesitate to play dirty.”
And extra dirty, he absolutely did.
“Fuck, man.That seriously sucks.I’m really sorry.”
I took a long, satisfying pull from my beer.“Ah.”I wiped my hand over my mouth.“Thanks.Definitely not how I saw this season going.I was shaping up to be the team’s top scorer, top five in the league.”
