Page 4 of Heartless As Puck

We both jolted into motion, hurrying to the changing rooms and slipping inside. I made my way to my locker and paused, gazing at my name on the metal. The sight never grew old. I traced the outline of the letters, as I did every time I trained here or played a home game.

The interior of the locker was empty. I’d cleaned it out at the end of last season, but I carefully stacked everything I wouldn’t need today inside, then stripped off and changed into my gear. Clothes first, followed by tape, then skates. The order had to be right.

Five minutes later, we were on the ice.

It was a disaster.

Perhaps it was just as well that the first official training session wasn’t until tomorrow. I was in good form, but it had been a while since I’d run drills with others and had a hard time getting into the flow. The rookies were either lost or trying too hard, and the guys who’d transferred didn’t seem to know what to make of the rest of us.

I got it. We didn’t function like other teams. We weren’t a cohesive unit. We’d been in an unhealthy environment for so long that we didn’t know how we were supposed to behave. It was a mindfuck.

My legs burned as I powered up the ice and intercepted a puck, internally reminding myself that I had a lot to be grateful for. There was no Taggert yelling obscenities or taking too much joy in slamming his teammates. We might be all over the place, but that toxic asshole was gone—at least temporarily—and with his departure came my opportunity.

After a couple of hours, Dunn ordered us to get our asses off the ice, shower, and be back bright and early tomorrow. I trailed behind the others, checking that nothing had been left behind. As I approached the gate, Nick came over to join me.

“Who do you think they’ll make captain?” he asked.

My heart rate picked up, but I did my best to maintain a neutral expression. “Could be you.”

Much as I hated to say it, he wouldn’t be a bad choice. He’d played for the Chaos for five years and was one of our most well-liked players. Not that that said much, since none of us got on particularly well. Our former coach had had a habit of pitting us against each other.

Nick scrunched his nose. “They’ll probably want someone with a better scoring record. That could be you, if you wanted it.”

I drew in a slow breath. I wanted it with everything I had, but there was no way I’d say so out loud. I was too superstitious for that.

This could be the biggest turning point of my career. If I worked my ass off, Dunn might make me captain. But this was also the last year of my contract. If he didn’t like what he saw, I could lose everything.

TWO

JANE

I was jittery from the end of the team meeting until I was finally able to shut myself in my studio apartment above Austin’s garage, anxious to get on the phone and discuss what the changes might mean for me.

I flopped onto the bed and wriggled up until I was relaxing against the mound of white and blue pillows, angled toward the small kitchenette.

Some people found it strange that I lived with my boss, but my lease had been up when I’d applied for the job and the moment Austin’s agent learned I had experience cooking for athletes, he’d persuaded Austin to rent me the studio for well below market value. The only proviso was that I had to prepare Austin’s meals a few times a week.

Well, that and keep out of his way when I wasn’t working.

Grabbing my bag, I unzipped it and fished inside for my phone. I opened the recent contacts list and scanned the numbers.

I couldn’t handle the thought of talking to Dad right now. He wouldn’t understand my anxiety over the future of the team and what the changes might mean for me. Mom would get it, though. She’d spent years being buffeted around by other people’s careers with little control over the situation.

I tapped on her number and waited while the call went through.

“Hey, honey,” she answered, her voice as bright and cheerful as ever.

“Hi, Mom.” I gazed up at the ceiling, the white turning hazier the longer I stared.

“What’s wrong, Janie?” Her tone grew concerned. God, I must sound bad.

“Something is going on at work.” I mentally debated how much to tell her, but if I wanted her advice, she needed to know everything.

I explained the sale of the team and the trades that had happened as succinctly as possible, warning her that everything was confidential and that I’d appreciate her keeping it to herself until someone else leaked it to the press, which honestly, wouldn’t take more than two or three days.

“You’re worried about how this might affect you?” she asked, quickly realizing all that I hadn’t said.

I grimaced. “Yeah.”