I totally would. I put the other guys’ goals, hopes, and aspirations ahead of my own – maybe it was time to start treating myself as the MVP. “I was seeing Bronwyn Yates. In secret.”

  Leo smiled and his eyes glinted. “I don’t think it was that ‘secret’. Your photo was in the Tattler.”

  I inhaled deeply. “She finally decided that we could be seen together and then…”

  The interior light slowly faded, and we sat in the cab in darkness.

  “And then…” he urged.

  “It all fell apart. Part of me thought that if I could make it to the National League, I would finally be worthy of her. That I could be accepted into her world. It turns out she’s just a liar and was using me.”

  “Fuck,” Leo whispered under his breath. “Really? That’s cold. She seemed so genuine and into you at the pizza party.”

  The Rolls Royce night. The kissing in the rain night, the most amazing blowjob in the back of the car night. I could feel the anger creeping through my body. How could I have been so blind? No wonder she didn’t want me to drop her off at her cottage. I was just her dirty little secret.

  “Come on.” I hopped out of the car. “I’m ready to smash the shit out of some biscuits.”

  With the interior light on, I could see the smile on Leo’s face. “That’s what I’m talking about.” He grabbed his bag of equipment. “Andy is going to join us.”

  “Really? That’s awesome.” Back in the day, Andy, the Zamboni driver was one of the top players in the Northern Professional League.

  The moon shone brightly as I walked into my second home – the rink, alongside my best friend. I didn’t need Bronwyn, and I didn’t need that beer either. I wasn’t going to make it to the National League for Bronwyn. I was going to make it for my own fucking self.

  Twenty-Four

  Bronwyn

  The rain pinged off the metal roof of the bunkie and I rolled over in bed, not ready or wanting to face Lisa. She had arrived an hour earlier and had been busying herself in the kitchen, waiting for me to get up to hand me a smoothie. I pulled the covers over my head, and I felt like I drifted off to sleep on and off for days.

  A soft knock on the door woke me up from my half-sleep. “Miss Bronwyn, are you alright?” Lisa opened the door a crack.

  “I’m okay,” I grumbled from under the nest of blankets. “I’m going to get up – in a little bit.”

  Lisa shut the door and then opened it again. “Miss Bronwyn, it’s past noon.”

  I sat up and hoped that my face wasn’t as puffy looking as it felt. I had cried myself to sleep the night before. “Okay. I’ll get up.”

  “Zeesh. Your face. What happened?” She crossed her arms and took a few steps into my bedroom. There was a book tucked under her arm.

  “What’s that?” I pointed to the book.

  “It’s the pregnancy book I was telling you about. I thought that you might want to learn about what’s going on in your body.” Lisa did something unprecedented and sat on the edge of my bed. “What happened?” she whispered.

  I propped myself up on the down pillows and as I spoke, I wound my hair into a loose braid. “I messed everything up.”

  “With Dylan?” Her eyes shone with concern.

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “With Dylan. But it’s probably a good thing. He said some cruel things and was a total asshole.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Lisa set the book on the nightstand. “I can bring your smoothie in here.”

  “No.” I swung my legs out of the bed. “It’s time for me to take control of my life. To figure out what the hell I’m doing, and to put this little guy first.” I rubbed my belly. “This might not be the only time my family held my inheritance over my head, but I needed to become self-sufficient – and through my wallowing, had come up with a business idea.

  “It’s a boy?” Lisa couldn’t seem to stop the grin from spreading across her face.

  I stood and stretched my arms over my head and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. The long braid tumbled over her shoulder. My eyes were rimmed red and my face puffier than after a night of too much Dom Perignon. “I don’t know for sure. I just kind of… know.”

  Lisa backed to the door. “Women’s intuition. I believe in that.”

  I thought that I believed in it too. But I had been wrong about Dylan. “For some things, I think we get it right. I rubbed my lower back, which had been getting tighter and tighter every day. I’ll come and have the smoothie and then do you want to go to a yoga class together?”

  Lisa raised her eyebrows. “A yoga class?”

  “It will be on the clock.”

  Lisa looked me up and down as if assessing my mental health. “Sure, Miss Bronwyn. I’d love to go to a yoga class with you.”

  “But first, smoothie” I smiled and followed Lisa into the kitchen, and over a gritty spirulina and kale smoothie, spilled my guts to my cleaning lady. The whole thing.

  “I still can’t believe you told him it wasn’t his.” Lisa’s tone was quiet, but there was a sternness to it – subtle disapproval that I tried to ignore.

  I sighed and sucked through the metal straw. “I did him a favor. It turns out he’s an asshole. I set him free.”

  Lisa’s lips narrowed, but instead of saying anything, she finished her smoothie with a slurp.

  “Do you think that was a mistake?” I didn’t want to hear the answer.

  Lisa rinsed her cup in the sink and her shoulders slumped before she turned to face me. “It’s not for me to say.”

  She didn’t have to say it out loud, and I knew it too. Lying to Dylan the first time had been wrong – lying to him the second time had been one of the worst things I’d ever done in my life.

  “I’ve royally fucked everything up,” I cried. “But I can’t go back now.” I pushed the half-gone smoothie away. “I’m not hungry.”

  “What about yoga?” Lisa asked.

  I slipped off the barstool. “I’m tired. I’m going to go back to bed.”

  Her eyes followed me with concern. I turned and shook my finger at her. “Don’t you judge me.”

  “Never, Miss Bronwyn,” Lisa said. “You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met. Even the best people make mistakes.”

  I almost cried again, but there just weren’t any more tears left in my body. “I-I just need some sleep.” I went back to my sea of white sheets and collapsed back into bed.

  Two days later, I was wearing the same nightgown and had been living off of Lisa’s smoothies. “You’re getting out of bed today.” Lisa had gotten bolder and stormed into my room and pulled the duvet off the bed. I curled into a fetal position. “Noooo. I just want to stay here and…”

  “Wallow?” Lisa finished my sentence.

  “Yeah. Wallow.”

  “I can’t let you do that.” Lisa set a glass of water on the nightstand.

  “Please.” I tried to grab the duvet from the floor, but Lisa snatched it away.

  With the bundle of covers in her arms, Lisa stared me down. “I’ve let you sleep away the last two and a half days. It’s time for you to get up and think about your next move. You mentioned a business idea – do that. You’re not the kind of woman to play the victim. And…” she paused.

  “And what?” I eyed her up. I didn’t like her tone.

  “And your mom is here today. And your grandmother…”

  “Ugh.” I rolled my eyes. “Grandma Yates is here?” The woman was never seen in anything less than a perfect outfit. She ran the company until she was in her fifties, and even after retiring kept a position on the board of directors. She was a tough lady who definitely wouldn’t spend two days in bed feeling sorry for herself.

  “Yep. Time to pull yourself together. I think that you’re starting to get a rat’s nest in that Rapunzel braid of yours.”

  Reaching to the braid confirmed the rat’s nest comment. Lisa was right. What was done was done. It was time for me to get dressed and put on some lipstick – but first a shower.

  As I wiped the steam from the mirror, I replayed the conversation with Dylan over and over again. Of course, he was upset. A bombshell had just been dropped on him. I still hadn’t figured out who had told him. There were very few people who knew about the pregnancy, and I couldn’t imagine any one of them telling Dylan. I had to explain everything to him. If he knew what was truly going on, he might not hate me. If the whole story came out in the open, would he still want to be with me? A love like we have doesn’t just die like that, does it?

  I had to figure out how to reach him and have a real conversation together. I had been immature – and so had he. It was time to grow up.

  Twenty-Five

  Dylan

  Scalpers lined the streets of Laketown hours before the final game in the exhibition series. Cars drove up and down the main street trailing Otters flags and blue and white jerseys dotted the sidewalks – even in the warmth of the summer.

  It felt like a lightning bolt had hit Laketown and the energy from the strike had hung around, infecting every fan in town. I rolled my wrists as I drove to the rink, they were a little sore from the slapshot session the other night with Leo and Andy. For an old dude, I think he’s in his late thirties, Andy could play. The three of us skated until the ice was so carved up from our blades it felt like an old bumpy pond. With the pressure off, the love for the game shone through and I left McManus Place feeling a little more hopeful. With each shot, I focused more on my career and less on the blue eyes of Bronwyn Yates.

  Don’t get me wrong. It still hurt like hell, but if there’s anything to help get me over heartache – it’s hockey.

  I still couldn’t help myself from scanning the audience as we warmed up. The bass from the music was vibrating the walls of the stadium and the crowd was on their feet. Jessie and Kane were sitting in a private box and even though I knew it was unrealistic, part of me hoped to see a certain blond sitting in there with them.

  As the thought hit me, I wound up and the crowd cheered as my slapshot practically ripped through the back of the net. I had to forget about Bronwyn and focus on the game. This was my night. I could feel it.

  Both teams scored in the first period. We were aggressive and our offensive lines dominated the first fifteen minutes. In the second period, the experience of the pros left us chasing the puck more than we would have liked, but our defense held steady. After the second period, the score was still tied one to one.

  Coach was uncharacteristically cool in the dressing room between periods. Usually, a garbage can got kicked over and his level of profanity would make any trucker blush. We had started the game strong but were fading – everyone could feel it.

  “Moss.” Coach pointed at me with his pen. “Your favorite goal of the year – what was it?”

  I smiled. “Easy. The first goal I scored in this series.”

  “Good answer!” Coach laughed. “Everyone, shut your eyes and imagine the puck on your stick. Imagine the sound of the audience screaming.”

  We all looked at each other before the majority of the guys shrugged and followed along with Coach’s weird Zen visualization exercise.

  Coach’s voice sounded lower and had a little more gravel to it. With my eyes shut I could see the puck on my stick, I could hear the audience.

  “Now…” Coach’s voice was getting louder. “Imagine the sound of your name being announced through the speakers.” I could hear it – I swore I could. The same announcer had worked at the arena since I was a kid, and I could hear his voice in my sleep some nights. I could see the puck as I wrapped around the net and backhanded it through the five-hole. The shock in the goalie’s eyes when he realized that the puck was behind him – and I could see the glow of the goal light flashing. The faces of my teammates as they congratulated me were clear as day. The face in the audience screaming and clapping my name came into my visualization before I could stop it. I squeezed my eyes hard to try to get Bronwyn out of the picture.

  “Open your eyes,” Coach yelled.

  The room came into fuzzy view as I blinked my eyes open. I could feel the adrenaline surging through my body.

  Coach looked at all of us and then whispered so we all had to lean in. “Could you see it?”

  Most of the guys nodded and a few of them grumbled a yes.

  “No,” Coach’s voice was louder and then he yelled, the baritone of his voice echoing in the room. “Could you fucking see it?”

  The room erupted as all the players launched to their feet and roared.

  Leo and Coach smiled as they surveyed the frenzied energy in the dressing room. We weren’t Otters, we were sharks and the coach had just thrown some chum in the water.

  Coach opened the door. “Now get out there and play some hockey.”

  The cheering got louder and we all high-fived Coach and Leo as we headed to the ice for the most important period of hockey in our career.

  Through experience, I knew that the first minute of the third period would set the tone. As I reached center ice, the sounds of McManus Place disappeared to a buzz. The audience turned into a sea blue of white, and all I could see and hear was the action on the ice. I met the eyes of the Jaguar’s captain at the faceoff and made him look away first. As the puck dropped, it seemed to move in slow motion. I picked it away from the Jaguar and within two strides passed it to Jasper, my right-winger, and then flew up the center of the ice. I never thought about skating, it just happened, my legs seemed to have a mind of their own and I didn’tt even worry about what they were doing – because they were doing it fast and they were doing it well.

  Jasper passed the puck to Mike who faked the shot, which gave me just enough time to reach the side of the net. Just as in my visualization, I rounded the net with the puck on the heel of my stick and before the goalie knew what had happened, I had slipped the puck in between the goalie’s pads. The light flashed and it was as though my visualization had completely come to life – the crowded team hug – and the glance to the private box. And that’s where it ended. Kane and Jessie were hopping up and down, waving their arms and screaming. The seat beside them – well, it was as I knew it would be – empty.

  We held the two to one lead until the last minute of play when one of their players got a slap shot past our goalie. If we could have only held out one minute longer, we would have won the game.

  Even with the goalie pulled for the last minute of play and an extra Otter on the ice, we didn’t have it in us to even out the score – and the big star of the Jaguars lobbed a shot, and a second before the buzzer sounded, it slid into our net.

  When the game clock sounded, the Jaguars had beaten the Otters three to two.

  We were the underdogs, and for a while, I thought the Otters were going to have a Cinderella story. Most of the guys went out to celebrate anyway, but all I wanted to do was shower and go home. The past few days had taken their toll on me, and I just wanted to be alone.

  After an hour of signing autographs after the game, I got in my old beat-up car and drove home in silence.

  The TV was flicking in the darkened room when a knock on the door woke me from a dreamless sleep, propped up on the old sofa in the living room. The remote control clattered to the floor as I sat up and tried to turn on some lights.

  Bang, bang, bang.

  “Jesus, hold on.” Whoever it was, they knocked like a cop.

  Even though part of me hoped it was Bronwyn, I knew that she’d never want to see me again after how I spoke to her. I was a total dick, but I mean, come on – I don’t know any dude who wouldn’t react like that after finding out the woman he was in love with was carrying another man’s baby.

  After turning on the porch light, I saw that the muscle behind the knock was Jessie, and I opened the door.

  “Are you locking this now?” she joked. Growing up we had never locked the front door, and usually, Jessie would just walk in whenever she felt like it. Technically she still lived there – her room was still set up with all of her figure skater posters and teddy bears covered in medals.

  “New habit.” I didn’t remember locking the door, but there was something about being threatened by a billionaire that made me a little more cautious.

  “Great game.” Jessie gave me a huge hug.

  “Thanks. I mean, I guess.” I looked behind Jessie, but there was no sign of her fiancé. “Where’s Kane?”

  “He went to go party with some of the Jaguars.”

  “Right. The winning team.”

  “You stop that.” Jessie walked past me and settled into the recliner in the living room. “What are you watching?”

  “Did you come to check on me?” Jessie and I weren’t really in the habit of watching TV together anymore.

  Jessie pulled the handle to fully recline the chair. “Not like that. I mean, I just wanted to talk to you about the game. I knew you’d be beating yourself up about losing. Even if you scored the most beautiful goal I’ve ever seen and that everyone in town will be talking about for years.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “It was pretty good, wasn’t it? He thought I was going to go high, and I went low.”

  “I thought you were going to go high too!” Jessie clapped her hands together. I couldn’t believe it. Dyl…” Her voice got serious.

  “Yeah?” Something told me I wasn’t going to like the next part of the conversation.

  “Why aren’t you out with your team? Is it hard to celebrate without drinking?”

  I took a deep breath. “I should be out with them, and no, it’s not all that hard to go out without drinking. I’ve been doing it for a while now.”

  “I’ve noticed,” she beamed.

  “It’s just, I’ve had a rough couple of days.” I reclined onto the couch in my usual spot and fluffed the pillow behind my head.

  “I-I-I noticed that Bronwyn wasn’t at the game tonight,” she stammered, which she never does. She knew that she was entering sticky territory. I was glad that all of the living room furniture pointed at the television, so we didn’t have to have any awkward eye contact.