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“I’m not going to send it to you,” she says in a low voice. “I will not be complicit in that, Jacob.”
I wait for thebut.
And then it comes.
“But… If you meet me for dinner, we’ll see.”
“I could kiss you, Vicky."
“Your father is going to kill me,” she says on a laugh. “You’re trouble. You’ve always been trouble. Now get off the damn phone and go to sleep. Please. You’ve got a big game coming up.”
Yeah, we do. My chest tightens again. This anxiety is familiar. It’s induced by the sport, by the need to win. I’ve been competitive all my life. It started before my dad put me into hockey, even. I was pushing myself to be the best at t-ball and soccer, I just wasn’t very good at either.
On the ice, though, I found my feet. I found my home.
I rub my chest absently and say goodbye to Vicky. I’ll have to remember to make a dinner reservation when it’s a normal hour, and also figure out how I’m going to get Melody to New York again. I could put her on a plane with the other wives and girlfriends, but…
Well, Camden Church, our captain, is perennially single. Seems like clockwork. He gets a girl in the off season, woos her over the summer, and then dumps her right before our season starts. I don’t think Lawson has ever had a girlfriend. No idea about Dawes, the guy clams up when I mention women. Haverhill and Scofield are the ones who fuck around with any beautiful woman who looks at them.
So maybe that’s out.
Maybe I have one of my friends—
Aha.
“It’s the middle of the night, you fucker,” Greyson Devereux groans in my ear. “You better have a damn good reason for waking me up.”
I grin. “Yeah. I need to talk to Violet.”
If I was standing in front of Devereux, he’d probably try to punch me.
“Call at a normal hour.”
“No.” I recross my legs. “The only reason I didn’t call her directly was a courtesy to you.”
That, and he’s insane. Over-protective. If her phone rang in the middle of the night, he’d still answer it—and then I’d be faced with a million more questions. This is just easier.
Maybe.
“I’m already awake,” Violet’s voice comes through. “Just give me the phone.”
“I’m putting it on speaker,” Greyson snaps. More at me. He’d never fucking snap at her.
Unless she’s into that kind of thing?
“Hey, Violet,” I greet her. “Are you guys still in Denver?”
“What, you want to meet up for middle-of-the-night drinks?” Greyson’s a sarcastic asshole.
“Or did you kill someone?” Violet quips.
I groan. “Fuck off, both of you. Are you?”
“Yeah, Rhodes. Now spit out what you want or need.”
“Someone’s grouchy,” I mutter. I examine my fingernails. “Why can’t I just call to have a little conversation with my friends?”
“At one-thirty in the freaking morning? Get out of here.”
