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“Let’s cut to the chase, son. You aren’t calling me this morning to ask for girlfriend advice. I mean, if you were, I’d have plenty to give, so—”
“Nope.”
“And it would involve groveling apologies and her favorite flowers and a box of chocolate so heavy you could use it to bench-press with.”
“My coach is deliberately trying to screw me over and get me kicked off the team,” I spit out, needing to get to the root of this call.
“Say what now?” My father barks in surprise.
“He hired my ex-girlfriend to try to stir up trouble and cause public fights between me and Dylan, in the hopes of getting me thrown off the team. I’m also sure that he was somehow behind the whole thing with Amanda and my mother. Traci showing up and stalking me and stressing me out, when the team management knows she’s supposed to be kept away from me ... who paid for her hotel? Who hooked her up with Amanda? Who helped her hire a private detective to get pictures of me and Rowan?”
“What the hell,” my father says. “You’re absolutely right. But why? Is there some other player that he wants to have replace you?”
“No. That’s the thing. I’m not bragging when I say this—I’m the best guy on the team. And I have the biggest fan base. Getting rid of me would really hurt the Rovers’ attendance and bottom line.” Frustration boils up inside me. “You’ve been in the business world a lot longer than I have, and you have connections everywhere. What do you suggest?”
My father clears his throat. “I have some ideas, but I don’t want to say anything yet. I’m going to put my feelers out, make some inquiries. I will get back to you the minute I find out anything.”
“Thank you so much,” I say fervently. “I know you hate everything about me playing the game, so I really appreciate you doing this.”
“I hate that you might get hurt,” he blurts out. “I hate that I might lose you. I think about it all the time.”
“Dad.” My throat swells with emotion. “I had no idea. You never said that.”
“I ... I thought the best way to get you out of the game was to have you take over my position. And I also know you’re going to be great at it, when you do. But I am incredibly proud of you, and I understand how much you love the game. I’m not letting that asshole Coach Hartley screw with you or your reputation. I’ll call you as soon as I find out anything.”
“Love you, Dad.” I blink hard—I think there’s an eyelash in my eye.
“You’re not the worst kid a dad could have.” He hangs up the phone, leaving me to pace the floor, trying not to crawl the walls.
All the while, my mind bounces from asshole coaches to Rowan. The woman I possibly — likely— love.
40
ROWAN
It was morefun watching the game rinkside, I have to admit to myself as I curl up on my sofa. I haven’t even bothered with snacks, because watching the game is enough to give me heartburn already. I’ve had half a bottle of wine and I’m woozy, mad, and sad.
Mason tried to call me again yesterday. I think he also tried to get through to me by calling the front desk. I’ve continued to ignore him.
Not thinking about him takes up all of my energy.
I don’t know. Maybe I should talk to him. Maybe he’s calling me because he needs help, and I’m leaving him hanging. Or maybe that’s just me making excuses because I miss him on a bone-deep level. I miss hanging out with him. I miss his snarky jokes. I miss our toe-curling, mind-blowing sex. I miss waking up next to him ...
Ugh.
Either way, doesn’t matter. He’s on the ice, so, obviously, I can’t call him.
I cross my arms over my chest and scowl. I shouldn’t be watching the game, but I can’t stop myself, because at least this way I can see him. It’s sad and majorly pathetic.
There’s a pounding on the door and normally I’d jump up to see who it is. Not today. It’s either Shelby, who lives in the same building as me, so she doesn’t have to call on the intercom from downstairs, or a serial killer.
There’s no fight in me today.
I heave myself up off the couch, grumbling, and walk over to the door. “What,” I yell.
“Open the door. Or I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house down,” Shelby calls out.
Looks like I’ll live to see another day.
