Sloane: I can see you typing…
I peek over to my phone, annoyed, then pick it up again.
Izzy: I liked it better when you were the new girl in town.
Sloane: Pretty please with sugar and a new book on top?
I grin into my pillow.
Izzy: Fine. I’ll go. But not because I want to see him.
Sloane: Obviously not.
And then a string of laughing emojis.
I set my phone down on my nightstand, turn off the light, and stare up at the dark ceiling. I don’t want to see him. I swear it. That stupid flutter when his name popped up earlier meant nothing. The roses were probably some PR move. The charity auction was just his way of helping his family.
I’m not going on that date. And after the hockey game this weekend, our worlds won’t collide anymore unless necessary. Like if Ethan and Sloane get married.
Maybe then.
Only then.
Damn it. I don’t even believe myself.
Chapter 5
Jack
The press area is swarming with players and media. Cords snake across the ground as another camera flash brightens the small space and sends a sharp spike of pain behind my left eye. I blink it away before anyone notices. My teammates hassle the team’s social media intern about needing to wrap it up.
I straighten my suit jacket and paste on the smile I’ve worn a thousand times.
It’s early October. The home opener. We lost our first game on the road against Washington, and I’m determined not to let that happen again tonight.
AnNESNreporter flags Alex and me forward to two metal chairs opposite her. She must be new because I don’t recognize her. Sharp brown eyes, long blonde hair in loose curls. Pretty. Maybe under different circumstances, I’d already have her number. Tonight, I need to keep my head straight. We exchange a quick hello and settle in before the camera rolls.
“Jack Murphy. Big night. How are you feeling after that first loss?”
“Ready to win.” I rub my palm against my knee,pushing past the lump in my throat. I force myself to hold her gaze even though everything inside me screams to look away. “Good.”
Beside me, Alex sighs.
The reporter raises her brows and leans forward in her seat. “That didn’t sound reassuring.”
Alex shrugs. “I’ve known Murph a long time. ‘Good’ can mean a lot of things.”
I shoot him a look, which is better than tackling him to the ground. But to be clear, that’s exactly what I want to do. My best friend is about to blow this for me, and he doesn’t even know what he’s protecting me from.
“Thought we were friends,” I joke.
It’s a tired bit, the two of us. The media loves our banter. Alex is the team’s lovable goalie, and I’m the charming wild card.
As expected, the reporter laughs, then moves on.
“Last season ended with a pretty scary hit. Any lingering concerns after the concussion?”
Figured I’d be tossed a few soft, easy questions first, but fine. Let’s get it out of the way. I have a game to win.
