Page 95 of Dirty Pucking Player

Wouldn’t I like to know…

It’s been looming over my head like a dark storm cloud, casting everything I do in inescapable shadow since the moment Bob pulled us into his office and told us he knew.

I rest my elbows on the table and drop my face into my hands. “I don’t know. Maybe. Probably.” I look back up at her, and she raises an eyebrow. I sigh and lean back in my chair. “If we would have won a few games in the first round, or advanced, even if we didn’t make it to the finals, I think I stood a chance of keeping my job despite this thing with Bash. Bob would have been lambasted for firing me after bringing the team that far, and he had to think about the public affairs side of taking that action. Something he is very aware of.”

She nods slowly. “But with the epic crash and burn failure of losing four games in a row…”

I glare at her. “Thanks for being so thoughtful.”

The woman who is supposed to be my best friend but who is certainly pushing the limits of that just flashes me a grin. Leave it to her to get to the heart of the matter and state the ugly truth. It’s actually what makes her a great friend—never being afraid to say what needs to be said or what I don’t want to hear. “Anytime.”

I shove up from my chair and walk back into the kitchen to grab the bottle of wine sitting on the counter. Bottle number two of the night, and there’s no doubt I’ll open a third.

After I left the arena tonight, I knew I was losing the fight against ingesting serious amounts of alcohol. Jill was more than happy to oblige my need to lose myself in pinot noir and meet me here with wine and a bag of Chinese takeout in hand. There’s nothing like drowning your sorrows in alcohol and MSG.

I refill her glass and top off mine before I drop back down into my seat. The slightly chilled tannin-filled liquid slides down my throat, and while I had hoped to be seriously buzzed by now, I’m still all too aware of the reality of my situation. “I think I fucked up.” Actually, I know I did. “Do you think there’s any way for me to come away from this with anything positive?”

She sighs and a sympathetic look crosses her face. “Oh, honey. That is a loaded question. Yes, you really fucked things up with the whole job situation, but do you regret getting involved with Bash? Was that really all bad?”

I snort and shake my head.

So much of it was good.

All of it, really, except the end.

The long, steamy nights. The lazy days before we had to go into practice or a game. Sneaking into each other’s rooms at night while on the road…

Tears sting my eyes, and I blink them away and take a gulp of wine to stop myself from turning into a blubbering mess.

“At the time? Of course not.” I shrug. “But at this point, things are such a mess, I honestly just don’t know what to think or how to feel about any of it”

It was great…but at what cost?

I’ve asked Bash that question, and now, we’re finding out that paying the price means potentially losing everything.

She pushes back her chair, grabs her wine, and wanders over to the couch to drop down next to me. “You had a good time with Bash. More than a good time. You’re lying if you tell me you didn’t have more than just fuck-buddy feelings for him.”

I sigh.

When did I become so damn transparent?

“I know.”

“And there’s no way to fix anything?”

“What do you mean?”

She sighs. “I mean, can you fix things with Bob or Bash, or are both lost causes?”

“I think they’re both lost causes. I don’t know what I could say to Bob right now that would make any of this okay. And Bash…” I take a sip of my wine. “I think Bash proved how he feels when he ran out of the arena and left town without even saying goodbye. Not to mention how he threw me under the bus in Bob’s office.”

Jill swirls her wine in her glass and nods slowly. “You did the same to him.”

I pause with my drink halfway to my mouth. “How so?”

“Well, you said Bash threw you under the bus, but didn’t you do the same thing to him by saying your career was more important than his?” She shrugs. “I’m just saying that if you consider him choosing his career over yours as throwing you under the bus, then that’s kind of the pot calling the kettle black, isn’t it?”

Shit.

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