“How’s Jayne doing?” he asks.
I pause, irritation winding through my gut. “We haven’t talked much. We’re trying to lie low and let this die down until…” I let my voice fade. I haven’t told anyone but West that I’m trying to get traded, but my agent wasn’t hopeful.
“Until?” Ashton prods.
“Until I can get myself traded.”
“Traded?” He stares at me. “You’re going to let him manipulate you like that?”
I clench my jaw, reminding myself that none of this is his fault. He’s been a good friend in spite of everything.
“Look, I appreciate you standing up for me the other day and I really am sorry he benched you tonight because of that whole thing, but you can’t be that naïve. No offense, but you have a kind of job security that most of us don’t. You’re a hell of a hockey player but there are a lot of great hockey players who wound up losing their careers over things that had nothing to do with skill. Drugs, gambling, whatever it was. I spent six years in the minors. This is my shot. I don’t have a big brother to fall back on.”
“That’s a fair assessment, but the thing is, you’re letting him win.”
“He only wins if he keeps her away from me, and I’m not letting that happen. So far, my agent hasn’t had any bites, so I’m stressed that getting traded might not be as easy as I hoped.”
“You want me to talk to my brother?”
The air between us is heavy.
His brother owns the Lauderdale Knights. Playing there would be amazing, so Idowant him to. More than anything. But there’s a part of me that wants to earn my place on another team. That wants to feel like I’m accomplished and that whatever team I wind up on actually wants me there. I don’t want a pity trade, even though it would make my life easier.
“I appreciate the offer,” I say sincerely, “but give me a little time to sort things out before I start calling in favors.”
“Understood.” He nods. “You going up to Mr. Carrier’s box?”
Players who aren’t in the lineup usually watch from the owner’s box, and I nod.
“Yeah.”
“See you up there.”
“Okay.” I finish getting dressed on autopilot. I’ve just shoved my phone in my pocket when West and Vik come in.
“You doing okay?” West asks me.
“I guess.” I shrug.
“I tried to talk to Coach Panzetti but he said Morrison wouldn’t be deterred. The coaching staff all tried.”
“It’s okay. I guess I deserve it for sleeping with his daughter.”
Vik mutters in Russian.
“You know it’s not helpful when you say things I don’t understand?” I ask him dryly.
He shrugs. “You are difficult.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Look, we’re going out tonight,” West says. “Win or lose, we need to blow off some steam. And you’re coming.”
“I don’t think?—”
“Best way to convince Coach you’ve moved on is to let him see you out living your best life. I’m not saying you’re going to do anything, let’s just have some fun.”
I hesitate but he has a point.
