Page 62 of Playing the Player

I really need to ask her what this is between us, but every time I work up the courage, I stop myself.

There’s a part of me deep down that knows her answer won’t be the one I want to hear. But the fact that she’s thought about our kids, that has to be a good sign, right?

“Everybody wanna steal my girl. Everybody wanna take her heart away.” I sing in my car on the way to practice, drumming my fingers against the steering wheel. Not to brag or anything but I’ve been told that my singing voice is very angelic. “Find another one cause she belongs to me-”

My epic attempt at the high note is interrupted by my phone ringing through my truck's Bluetooth speaker. “You interrupted my singing.” I huff down the phone.

“I’m sorry, son.” My mom says, “Maybe it was for the best though. Have you shattered the car windows yet?” She howls with laughter at her own joke while I sulk.

“I’ll have you know that I’m an excellent singer.”

“Yeah, and I bet whoever told you that was deaf.” My dad chimes in. Great. I thought parents were supposed to be encouraging? Mine must have forgotten about that.

“Your father and I are on a road trip across the states. We were planning on visiting you in a month or so. Maybe we could come to one of your games.”

“That sounds great. Just let me know when and I’ll get you both tickets for the family box.” I pull my truck into the parking lot of the stadium, finding a spot shaded by trees. The start of the fall is still warm, feeling a lot like the summer, the heat warming my skin as I hop out of my truck, rounding to the opposite side to grab my gym bag and water bottle.

“Maybe we could meet your girlfriend.” My moms chirps and I pause. “Were you ever planning on telling us about her?” Damn it. Trust these two to finally look at the sporting news articles for the first time since I started playing hockey when there’s actually something on it that they should know.

“I was, but it’s still new.”

“I wouldn't say two months is ‘still new’.”

“I would argue that it is, since it’s my first real relationship.” That lie tastes sour on my tongue. I hate that I still have to keep up the ruse that this is a fake relationship. It doesn't feel fake anymore. It feels more real than anything I've ever experienced before.

“What’s her name? How did you two meet? What does she do? What age is she? Young enough to give me grandbabies I hope.” This is why I don’t tell my parents anything. It’s always endless questions and inappropriate comments like that!

“Easy.” I laugh. “Her name is Sasha. She’s Olivia’s best friend. She’s a receptionist at a law firm. She’s 30 and we are not talking about grandbabies.”

“Is she a nice girl?”

A smile spreads across my face. “She’s the best person I’ve ever met.”

“Aww, honey!” Mom swoons through the phone. “That’s sweet.”

“I mean it.”

“I know you do.”

“Does she make you happy?”

I don’t even have to think about it. “Yeah. She really does.”

“You still with that girl of yours?” Coach asks as I move past him to the locker room. He was in a great mood today. We all love it when he’s like that, which is very rare, might I add. We skate better, make better passes and score more goals when he’s not being a dick. The whole atmosphere in the locker room is different than it normally is and that just shows you what one person’s shitty mood can cause.

“I am.” I nod, moving aside to let my teammates pass by.

“Good. Keep her around. She’s grounding you, helping you focus.” I wasn’t expecting to hear this today. He points a finger at me. “You’re playing better. Less distracted. Don’t lose something that good.”

“Yes, sir.” Another lie added to the growing pile. It feels as though I’ve skated myself into a corner, surrounded by the opposition and every move I make traps me deeper and deeper and I’m running out of space.

I’m lying to everyone I care about and it’s slowly eating me from the inside out.

I get showered, moving to where the rest of the guys are after I’ve changed.

“Matthews, we’re heading down to the bar later for some drinks. You in?” Knight asks, sitting on the bench beside me. That sounds good. There’s nothing better than a cold beer on a hot day.

“I’ll be there. Mind if I bring Sash?”