Page 10 of My Lucky Charm

But I don’t say any of that.

“Are you free Sunday?” Dallas asks without looking at me.

I don’t respond.

“Figure since you’ve only been here a couple of weeks, you might not have anywhere to go, and you’ve got an open invitation to come have dinner with us. My girlfriend’s family has dinner together every Sunday, and her dad’s a huge fan.”

“I’m good, thanks.” I pull my own shirt off and toss it into the locker.

“Did I mention she’s a chef?”

“Awesome, then it would probably be a bunch of goat cheese and tofu. No thanks,” I snap.

I would really love to stop being a total jerk, but all I see is red.

“She could probably make goat cheese and tofu taste like steak,” he chuckles to himself, not giving me the satisfaction of rising up and snapping back at my jab.

“I’ll text you the address anyway,” he says. “Just in case.”

I stare into the locker. “Is my babysitter going to be there?”

“Eloise?” he asks, still not bothered. “Yeah. She’ll be there.”

I toss the rest of my stuff in the bottom of my locker.

“Pass.”

I walk past him toward the weight room, and he stops me. “Look, I know you think everyone has it out for you. And I know you think you’re God’s gift to this game. But neither of those things are true.”

I stand and wait for him to be done talking but don’t look at him.

“What’s true is that you and I could make this team great.”

A pause.

He turns back to his locker. “We’ve had guys like you before.”

I glance at him.

He turns to me and pointedly says, “They didn’t last.”

I look away and cross my arms.

“The way I see it,” he says as he hangs up his shirt, “you can make yourself and everyone else miserable, or you can accept that this is your team now. And this city is your home. Eloise can make that happen quicker.”

Heat rises up my neck. “I don’t need—”

“I know,” he says, and claps me on the shoulder. “But you’ve got one.” He pulls out his phone and starts typing. “I’m texting you the address for Sunday dinner. You should come.”

“I’ve got other plans.”

He hits send then looks up. “No, you don’t.” Dallas walks away, leaving me standing there, staring at the nameplate over my locker. Hawke. Next to it, the Comets logo.

This really happened.

I was traded. I’ve got a new team.

And a babysitter.

---