Page 85 of Her Game Plan

“You coming out with us tonight?” Jerrod Jackson asks as he, Kenny, and Pitty stand outside my hotel room door.

I shake my head. “Not tonight.”

“But it’s the first night in forever we haven’t been in season. And we’re snowed in, in Chicago. It’s the perfect night to go out as a team. One last hurrah,” Kenny argues.

Because even the rookie knows this will be the last time some of us play for the Stallions. Even if I don’t get traded, others on the team will.

I look between the guys before slowly shaking my head. I know how important this team is: I was in a bad spot a few years ago. Constantly focused on making sure I was in peak physical condition, that I was ready for every game, but I was in a bad place mentally. I realized I needed to connect with someone. So I started with my team. And they showed up. They were there for me.

But I don’t think I can do it tonight.

“I won’t be good company.”

“Are you ever?” Pitt asks, a crooked smile on his face.

I usually am. Fuck, I’m usually a hell of a time. But I haven’t dealt with whatever happened between Charlotte and me. And I sure as hell haven’t come to terms with the fact that a loss today practically guarantees I’m going to be traded.

Though, if I stay in tonight, all I’m going to do is wallow in self-pity.

“He probably wants to stay in and spend time with Charlotte.” Jerrod waggles his eyebrows as he says it. “Where is she, by the way?”

All three men try to peek around me to see in my room, but I push them away.

“She’s out tonight. Business.” I let out a low, annoyed groan. “Fine. I’ll come. But I’m in bed by midnight. With or without you assholes.”

“Definitely with,” Pitt teases.

Jerrod lifts his hand. “I call big spoon.”

“Okay,” Kenny chimes in. “But I get to be little spoon… with Charlotte.”

The growl I release is pure instinct, but I put in the effort to make it sound like a joke.

Chapter 34

Charlotte

I shut the door to my hotel room and slide down the door. No matter how long I’m inside, my body can’t seem to get warm. I’m not sure whether it’s a symptom of my current mental state or from standing in the snow for more than three hours. Chris kept texting me pictures of the hot chocolate they were drinking in the suite. I can tell you this: it was not helpful.

Not that I think he was trying to be helpful. He’s my brother who was trying to antagonize me rather than let me feel anxious about the fact the Stallions were losing.

That they did lose.

I’ve been barely holding it together since Thursday night, and I simply cannot anymore. I wrap my arms around my shins, resting my forehead on my knees as a silent sob breaks free. My therapist likes to make me name the emotions I’m feeling, which usually fall somewhere between “insecure that everything I have in life is due to my father rather than my own work,” and “frustrated that my team isn’t executing something in the exact same way I would.” Or “like a complete boss bitch.”

I’m a complex woman, able to feel many things at once.

Right now, though? Now I feel sad.

No, not sad.

Devastated.

And I can’t even listen to my “Buck Up, Buttercup” playlist because every time I open my app, I see the playlist I made for Callan. And it makes me feel hollow.

I want to cuddle up in bed with him and make him hold me while I cry. It’s painfully unfair that falling for someone means that, when they hurt you, the person you’re upset with is also the only one you want to make you feel better.

Too bad no one told me that before I fell hard and fast for the man I was fake dating.