Page 91 of My Lucky Charm

“Know the man, know the player,” he says.

I frown and shake my head.

Burke stands up and leans his stick against the locker. “He’s not wrong. If we know you off the ice, we can get a better idea of who you are on the ice.”

I shake my head. “Whatever.”

“What?” Krush asks. “You don’t think your life affects your game?”

“No.” I shrug. “They’re completely separate.”

Jericho laughs.

“What’s so funny?” I ask, because I’m being serious.

“You think you can keep them separate. That’s cute.” He pats me on the shoulder.

“I don’t believe in distractions,” I tell them.

“Now I get it,” Jericho says.

“Get what?”

“Why you’re all leave me alone and hermit and stuff.” He stands up, chuckling to himself. “You don’t realize that having the right person cheering for you—on the ice and off the ice—is not a distraction. It’s motivation. It makes you play better, man, not worse.”

“You’ve already proven you’re the best.” Burke levels my gaze. “Now, you just get to remind them. And have fun.”

“You get to show off.” Finn raises his eyebrows like he’s just thought of the most fun thing ever.

But hockey hasn’t been about fun, not in a long time. So I have one good game because of a heart painted on my stick. That’s not how this whole thing works.

Right?

“And when you tank a game,” Jericho says, “Because we all do—it’s nice to have someone there who doesn’t rub it in your face.”

I think about the mistakes I’ve already made since getting to Chicago. Eloise challenges my behavior, but she doesn’t rub any of it in my face. It’s confusing.

“And for what it’s worth, we’d love to meet Scarlett,” Burke says, pulling his deodorant from his locker.

I go still.

Then, I decide to try talking.

“She’s ten, almost eleven.”

Jericho’s eyebrows shoot up the way most people’s do when they do the math and figure out I was barely eighteen when she was born. “Bring her by, we’ll sign a jersey for her.”

“She’ll sell it on eBay,” I warn.

Jericho glances at me. “Let me guess, she wants a phone?”

I actually crack a smile at him.

“How’d you know?”

He shakes his head, laughing to himself and strolls off toward the shower, starting to sing the lyrics to “What a Girl Wants” off-key, leaving me sitting there with Burke.

“It’s okay to let other people in sometimes,” he says. “I mean, we need you—that’s why I fought so hard to get you here.”

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