Page 100 of Fair Play
“I thought he loved me,” I admit sadly. “Or at least thought he was getting there.”
“I think he does. Or is. But this is complicated. No one wants to come between family, especially when you and Bodi don’t have anyone else. That part of it I understand. He’s afraid you’d start to resent him, you know? And you might. Bodi did give up a lot to take care of you, and Rome respects that. How can he not?”
“So I should be alone forever because Bodi made a choice to step up and be a good big brother? I don’t get to fall in love or have a family of my own?” I demand.
“Of course you do. But he has to work through whatever is going on in his head, whether it’s trauma, like you think, or something else. And eventually, someone is going to have to give him an ultimatum.”
“If it wasn’t the playoffs, with so much at stake for both of them, I would fight, but I can’t. Not right now. And frankly, I feel like Rome should fight for me. If he loves me.”
“And maybe he will. Give it a couple of days. Let them both see what it’s like not having you in their lives. Neither of them is going to like it.”
I really, really hope she’s right because I don’t like it either.
Chapter 38
Rome
Somethingwet and squishy against my mouth startles me awake and my eyes pop open. Marty’s not-quite-two-year-old son, Brad, is standing at eye level, watching me intently.
“Bek-fist?” he asks, happily holding out a fistful of wet, soggy cereal.
“No thanks, buddy, I’m good.”
Apparently, no isn’t the right answer, because he pushes the messy concoction more firmly against my mouth.
“Bradley!” Stevie comes skidding into the room. “What did we say about waking up Uncle Rome?”
“Bek-fist!” he says, as if that explains everything.
“I’m so sorry,” Stevie whispers, scooping Bradley up. “Marty left to take Martin to school and Emma was having a meltdown so Bradley got away from me.”
“I mean, it’s not my choice of food, but who can say no to breakfast in bed?” I ask good-naturedly.
Marty and Stevie have been godsends, inviting me into their home pretty much no questions asked.
“Sorry!” Stevie hurries out, closing the door behind her and I roll onto my back.
It’s time to get up anyway.
Tonight is game three, here in L.A. We have a morning skate at ten and then have to be back at the arena around four. I’m trying to muster up the tiniest bit of excitement but since my conversation with Billie yesterday, it feels like my life went from color to black and white.
The hurt in her eyes nearly undid me. Then she masked it with anger, and I can’t blame her. I hate the thought that I’ve made her cry, but I’m being pulled in so many directions right now. It’s hard to consider moving on without her, especially after the things Ms. Barrowman said.
How she chose me because she thinks I’m a good fit here.
How the team needs someone exactly like me to shake things up.
How I’ve performed better in my short time here than Bodi has playing all season.
That’s such a mixed bag because on one hand—I want to stay. So fucking bad I can taste it. I can play it cool when I talk to other people, but on the inside, of course I don’t want to retire. I’d play forever if I could, and I’m pretty sure ninety-nine percent of all players would say the same thing.
Reality isn’t the same thing as what we want in our hearts, so you pretend you’re resigned to whatever is going to happen. Pretend you’re ready for whatever comes next, when hockey no longer dominates your every thought, your schedule, your life. That’s when you buy a cabin on a lake in Bumfuck, New York and pretend you’re okay with this next phase.
That is, until you meet a firecracker of a woman who tilts your world—and everything you thought you knew—on its axis.
She wasn’t supposed to be my teammate’s little sister.
She wasn’t supposed to be thirteen years younger than me.
