Page 44 of My Lucky Charm

Poppy

Oh, well, then, he’s set.

Eloise

So . . . shopping?

Poppy

I’m at the restaurant all day. All week actually. I’m sorry!

Raya

I’m working too, but maybe I can meet you for lunch. I’ll text you a place.

Poppy

Well, now I feel left out. Can we do this tomorrow?

Eloise

Apparently, I make my own schedule now, so I’m game!

Raya

Sure, I can make it work. See you both tomorrow.

I click my phone off and take another look around this amazing space. This is real, this is happening, and I have a job to do.

I shut my eyes, take a breath, and all I see behind my eyelids is Gray with his shirt off.

Good grief.

Chapter Eleven

Gray

After playing like garbage, my all-time favorite thing to do is sit in front of a bunch of microphones and cameras and answer stupid questions about why I didn’t play better.

Marshawn Lynch once answered every single post-game question with “I’m just here so I won’t get fined” and nothing else. “Can you describe that 75-yard touchdown run?” “I’m just here so I won’t get fined.” “What about your stomach bug before the game?” “I’m just here so I won’t get fined.”

That guy is my hero.

Tonight, after my third consecutive lousy away game, everyone in hockey is criticizing the Comets for bringing me here in the first place.

And they’re not holding back.

This is pretty standard. The sports media in Philly was even harsher than here. You play a professional sport, you open yourself up to criticism.

It’s why I prefer being private. Scrutiny takes a toll.

Thanks, Dad.

I’m sitting behind the table next to Dallas, facing the media, the lights, the cameras—clenching my fists and willing myself to stay calm. I told Turnrose putting me out here was a bad idea, but he insisted.

He also told me not to lose my temper. Signs point to “fat chance.”

“We won the game,” he said. “Focus on that.”

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