I sigh. “If we hadn’t gone on a heater and gotten into playoff contention, Tom was going to start working on a trade package. But since it looks like we’ll be buyers at the deadline, I need to not rock the boat.”
“I get it. Don’t worry about me.”
Inside, my dad greats the line cooks who are making us breakfast by name, which delights them. Then as my teammates arrive, one by one, he does the same. He's a legend, on and off the ice, for a reason.
Then the coach stalks in. I busy myself making a smoothie. Today’s featured ingredients: blueberries and bananas. Someone in the kitchen has a sense of humor.
"Good to see you," Wilson says stiffly. "Your boy played well last night."
"He always does," my dad replies with easy pride. “Looks like things are clicking under your system, too. You’ve got them on quite a streak now.”
It’s exactly the right thing to say. Not backing down from being proud of me, but giving credit to a narcissist at the same time. A necessary sacrifice for locker room peace for the next three months.
Wilson makes himself scarce before I join my father, which means we get to actually enjoy a visit together with my teammates.
After a quick team meeting led by the assistant coaches, my dad heads to the rink to grab a seat—and probably chat up the media—while I get changed.
I’ve just pulled off my shirt and have my base layer in my hand when Toth bumps my arm. “You think your dad might give Wilson some notes after practice?”
I shove him sideways. “Didn’t you hear what he said? He likes what Coach is doing.”
Across the room, Coop snorts. And that’s shitty timing, because Wilson steps into the room at that exact moment.
I yank my base layer over my head to avoid making eye contact with him.
Which means I don’t see Toth reaching for the chain around my neck. "What’s with the ring, Lego?”
I swing my arms down hard, a defensive reflex that only makes things worse by grabbing the attention of the guys around us.
“He was wearing it on his hand in Vegas,” Stevo says, laughing. “I forgot about that.”
Toth snorts. “What did you do, bud, get married to a showgirl?”
CHAPTER 40
FRANKIE
I get a text message from Logan just as the radiologist I’m going to be shadowing for the next month introduces himself.
Logan
Can you call me ASAP?
“Is there a problem, Ms. Wilson?”
“No,” I say confidently.
Whatever it is will have to wait.
CHAPTER 41
LOGAN
So much for worrying that my dad might cause a problem. I did that all by my-fucking-self. And Frankie doesn’t call back before I have to head onto the ice for practice.
I can feel Wilson’s sharp eyes on me as we get started with a wakey wakey drill, warming up the legs.
Is he thinking about our conversation in the elevator in Los Angeles, when I didn’t try to hide that I’d been with a woman overnight? Three days after Stevo saw me wearing a wedding ring in Vegas?
