Page 79 of Dirty Pucking Player

“Dude, what’s your problem?” Mac stares at me from his bed. “Go to bed, Bash. We have a big fucking game tomorrow.”

No shit. One of the biggest games of my career.

We need to start off on the right foot in the playoffs. Gain some momentum to send us in the right direction. That’s especially true with our first two games of the series being on their home turf. But it’s impossible to concentrate on the game when all I can think about is how upset Greer looked when she stormed out of her office.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I glance over at him. “About what?”

“About whatever has you so worked up tonight. You were practically silent on the plane, and now, you look like some junkie incessantly tossing that puck instead of shooting up.”

I chuckle despite my dark mood. Maybe that’s what Greer is. A drug I just need to kick. I once compared her to heroin, and it seems even more true now. And ever since she asked that question, the different answers have been rattling around in my head. But I can’t talk about it with Mac. Even if I skirted around the truth, he could figure out who I’m talking about fairly easily. And if I slipped…

Talking won’t help anyway. I need to get the fuck out of here, grab some fresh air somewhere I can think where she just down the hall. “I’m going for a walk.”

He glances at the clock. “At this hour? Are you insane?”

“Maybe.”

I pull on my jacket and head out the door before he can try to argue with me about it further. The hall and elevator are deserted, and when I reach the lobby, only a few late-night check-ins linger. I slip past the front desk and out into the fresh, crisp air.

Portland is a beautiful city. If I had more time here, I would love to explore it…

With Greer.

The sentence finishes without conscious thought.

Shit.

If I keep going on like this, I’m not going to sleep at all and I’m going to play like total crap. I grab my phone as my feet hit the cement outside the hotel and dial Caleb, the only person I can think of who has any clue what I’m going through.

He answers on the second ring. “Bash, good timing. I just finished grocery shopping.”

I bark out a laugh at how domesticated he’s become and start my walk down toward the river. “Good.”

“What’s going on? Shouldn’t you be in bed and resting up for the game tomorrow?”

I nod and step up to the railing that overlooks the Willamette River. “I should be, but I can’t sleep.”

“Why not?”

How do I tell Caleb I’m all twisted up about a woman without him laughing at me? Maybe I can’t.

But he’s my oldest friend and already knows about my thing with Coach, so if I’m going to come clean to anyone, it’s going to be him. “Greer. Things have just gotten…well…shit. They’ve gotten complicated.”

A car door slams, and an engine roars to life through the line. “We’ve got about ten minutes before I get home, so give me the rundown while you can.”

I stare at the moonlight reflecting off the water—brilliant and shimmering like a diamond. “I don’t know, Caleb. I’ve never been so twisted up about a woman before.”

He laughs. “I know. I could see it weeks ago when you had just started your thing with her and insisted it wasn’t anything serious.”

“How did you deal with it?”

“What do you mean?”

“How did you deal with everything during that time when you didn’t know where Tara was and if she was all right, or if she was thinking about you?”

Their separation wasn’t easy on him by any means, but he never wanted to talk to me about it. He always tried to act like everything was fine. Something I’m struggling with hardcore.

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