AFTER MORNING PRACTICE, we arrive back at the hotel. It’s only been a day since the article about me and Andie came out, so when my phone rings, my chest tightens. I squeeze my eyes shut, knowing it’s probably Max.
I answer it, knowing I won’t be able to fall asleep for a pregame nap anyway. I’m so wound up from that stupid article, and worrying about Andie. Wondering how long it’ll take before she breaks up with me.
“Yes?” I ground out.
“Good day to you too, Anderson,” Max says in that fake-nice voice of his. “So, did you give Franklin Distilleries any more thought?”
He’s pushing so hard for me to accept this contract with the distillery, and it’s just another red flag with this guy.
“I’ve already told you, I don’t drink. I don’t want to start drinking. And I don’t want my name on a bourbon bottle.”
An exaggerated groan comes through his end. “You don’t even have to drink it! They just want to slap your name on the label and to have you hold the bottle in commercials.” He sighs. “We can even fill your glass with maple syrup for advertisements, Canadians love maple syrup!”
I squint my eyes. “Max, I’m not Canadian. I’m from Wisconsin.”
“Whatever.” I can practically hear the shrug in his voice. “Can’t you pretend to love bourbon for millions of dollars?”
Slowly, I inhale and exhale a calming breath. “You know what, Max? This conversation has given me some much-needed clarity.”
“Good!” He sounds genuinely happy. “I can send the contract to your hotel for your signature.”
“No.”
A stifled, confused-sounding laugh comes from Max. “Excuse me?”
“You’re fired, Max. I’m getting a new agent, someone who understands my boundaries, my life, anything. You’re only worried about your own paycheck. I want to make money and have security after retirement as much as anyone, but I won’t sell my soul in the process.”
“Mitch, come on, man!”
I hang up before I have to listen to his annoying voice any longer. This is one decision that I’m entirely confident in, and one that’s been a long time coming. Slumping down into an uncomfortable modern chair in the hotel lobby, I yawn loudly. I barely slept last night.
I’m sharing a room with Bruce, and he finally threw a pillow at me at three in the morning and yelled at me to quit tossing and turning.
Light sleeper much?
Bruce is in our room napping, and I’m not about to ruin it for him since I apparently kept him up last night. My phone is still in my hand; I tap the screen and find Andie’s contact info, then allow my finger to hover over it. I know I need to call her, but the feeling of not knowing what to say, and the fear that she’s going to end things, is overwhelming.
Everyone leaves, and she will too. She’ll figure out that I’m not worth the drama, that her life will be better off without me. She’ll find a nice guy and settle down in the suburbs where they’ll raise Noah and drink pina coladas and have a labradoodle.
And I freaking hate that guy. I hate him with every fiber of my being, whoever he is. As much as I love punching people, there’s no one I’ve ever wanted to punch more than this imaginary man who’s going to marry the love of my life.
I lock my phone and slide it into my back pocket. I can’t do it, can’t call her. Can’t listen to her voice as she shatters my heart. Leaning over, I grip my head in my hands, tugging at my hair. I probably rip out half of my hair in the process, but I can’t bring myself to care. Unsure what to do to distract myself, I head to the hotel’s gym. Exhausting myself before a game when I’m already running on very little sleep is probably a terrible idea. But better than going out and finding someone to beat the shit out of.
“Dude, are you going to be okay?” Colby whispers from his seat beside me in the locker room before the game.
Coach Young already gave us a pregame talk, and now Remy is pumping us up. I haven’t heard a word of what they’re saying. When I got dressed earlier in my burgundy suit, I made the mistake of looking in the mirror. Pretty sure I’ve never looked worse, despite the expensive, tailored material. Dark circles under my eyes, my beard longer and scruffier than I usually keep it, and my hair messy and unkempt from running my anxious hands through it. It looks like they found a homeless man on the side of the road and threw him into a suit, thinking it would fix everything.
I grunt at Colby, but he nudges me with an elbow, obviously not content with just a grunt. “I’m fine,” I spit the words. But in my defense, he’s annoying.
His head rears back. “Yeah, you seem totally fine.”
Bruce makes a pst sound from my other side. Unfortunately, even though we’re in the Quebec Wolverines’ guest dressing rooms, our seating arrangements are the same. I’m really wishing they’d have seated me between two rookies who are still too terrified of me to strike up a conversation.
Groaning, I grit out the word, “What?”
“It’s just a gossip article. Don’t get into trouble tonight and add fuel to the fire.” Bruce is abnormally serious as he says it. But his words just make me even more annoyed.
“Just a gossip article?”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he whispers, trying not to disrupt Remy’s speech. “I just meant that there’s always going to be stupid gossip and then a week later everyone forgets about it.”
A growl ripples through me, shocking Bruce and Colby. They stare at me like I’m a bomb about to explode. “Most gossip doesn’t include kids, Bruce.”
He nods. “I know, man. I’m sorry. I’m just trying to help.”
“Don’t.”
The guys in the room clap after whatever the hell Remy just said and we file out onto the ice. As soon as my skates hit the ice, I feel a little more controlled. The familiar air of the cool arena hits my face. I relish in the feel of the crisp, icy air, closing my eyes and breathing it in. Willing it to freeze my heart so I don’t have to feel anymore.
After a few laps around the ice, we take the bench while the Wolverines are announced. Couch Young squeezes between me and Colby and pins me with a look so serious, it’s almost a glare.
Tilting my head to the side, I crack my neck. I’m sure that muscle in my jaw is clenched too. I’m really freaking sick of everyone fawning all over me. I’m fine.
“You seem tense. Are you good?”
“Yep. Good to go.”
He studies me. “Okay. No stupid penalties.”
I nod and he goes back to standing behind us.
