Game Changer

by Kelly Jamieson

  I drop my phone and stare across the room. What the fuck?

  It takes a few minutes for the elevator to deliver her to my floor, but my door is open and I’m waiting for her, leaning against the doorframe trying to look casual and curious.

  She walks down the hall toward me, wearing a pair of ripped jeans and a black T-shirt that says I’m a teacher. To save time let’s just assume I am never wrong.

  My lips twitch.

  Her mouth is tight, her eyes flickering. “Hi, Jax.”

  “Hey. What’s up, Flynn?”

  She plays with the strap of the small red purse she’s carrying. “I was wondering if we could talk.”

  I keep my face expressionless.

  For some reason, the first thing I think of is that she’s pregnant. It’s been a while since we were together. What if…

  I can’t stop the big grin that breaks across my face.

  She frowns.

  I don’t know why I love this possibility. I must be fucking nuts.

  “Sure, come on in.”

  Giving me a strange look, she walks past me and into my condo. She stands in the foyer and I gesture to the living room.

  “Something to drink?” It’s seven o’clock on a Wednesday evening. “Glass of wine? Or a beer? Water?”

  “Tequila?”

  I laugh, but quickly sober. That means she’s not pregnant.

  Damn.

  I stride to my kitchen, shaking my head at my own ridiculousness. Things are weird enough already, and adding a pregnancy in sure as hell wouldn’t help.

  I bring the tequila bottle and two glasses and set them on my coffee table. She’s taken a seat on the couch, the same place she sat that night I brought her here after the aborted wedding.

  “So what’s up?” I pour Gran Patrón into a glass and hand it to her.

  “Not much with me. Getting ready for school to start next week.”

  “How’s Nicholas?”

  Her head jerks back. “What? Oh. I don’t know. I only went out with him once.”

  “Ah. Seeing someone else now?”

  “No.” She shakes her head. “I’ve decided I need to be alone for a while.”

  I’m good with that. Because it really fucked me up seeing her with that dipstick that night. I don’t know why. She deserves to be happy after what happened. On the other hand, I don’t want her to be lonely.

  I gulp my own tequila. “So what brings you here?”

  “I wanted to see how things are going with you. With the contract.”

  I sigh. “Nothing. The team hasn’t even wanted to talk.”

  “Oh no.” Her mouth turns down at the corners. “Are you okay?”

  “Of course I’m okay.” She’s studying me, head cocked, and I drop my gaze. “Sort of,” I mutter.

  She fidgets on the couch and takes a mouthful of tequila. “I thought maybe you’d want to talk about it.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.”

  I look up and catch a flash of hurt in her eyes before she drops her gaze. Shit.

  “My agent is handling it,” I add. “He’s doing what he can.”

  “Are you worried about being traded?”

  “More worried about an offer sheet. But nobody’s put one in.”

  “A what?”

  “Offer sheet. It’s basically a contract offer from another team. If they put in an offer sheet, the Aces have seven days to decide if they want to match it.”

  “I see.”

  “It doesn’t happen very often, but there’s been a lot of talk of it this year because of the salary cap crunch some teams are feeling. Including the Aces.”

  “So…no other offers, no contract. You just sit in limbo and wait for a contract or to get traded.”

  “Basically, yeah. We could go to arbitration. But we have to sign a contract by December first or I can’t play for the rest of the season.”

  “That would suck.”

  “Fuck, yeah.”

  We’re both silent for a few minutes.

  “Have you talked to your parents?”

  “Oh yeah. They’ve called. But I don’t have much to tell them either.”

  I don’t tell her that every time I talk to them, they ask about her. Not only that, every text message and email I get from Riley, Everly, and Grandpa and Chelsea asks about her. What the hell happened? She tagged along on a couple of trips with me and my whole goddamn family fell in love with her, apparently.

  “Jax. It’s not just talking about news. It’s talking about how you’re feeling about all this. How you’re dealing with it.”

  “I’m dealing with it fine. I’m skating and working out.”

  She lets out a short sigh. We sit silently for a moment. I want to ask her a million questions about her classroom and how she’s doing and if she’s played trivia and…

  She finishes her tequila and sets the glass down. “Well. I’ll go.” She stands.

  Shit. I don’t want her to leave. I like having her here, even if we’re not saying anything.

  My mouth goes dry and I jump to my feet. “Wait.”

  She pauses.

  I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to tell her that I feel lost. Weak. Scared. I don’t know what my future holds, and I fucking hate that. I’ve kept up the carefree, lighthearted front for the media and for my family. I can keep it up for her.

  After a moment, she turns and walks out.

  I follow her to the door, a bitter taste in my mouth. “Don’t worry about me,” I say lightly. “It’ll all be fine.”

  She turns to face me, her pretty eyes shadowed, her mouth soft. “I know that,” she says quietly. “But I’m not so sure you do.”

  Then she leaves.

  I let the door fall closed with a click, staring at it.

  I return to the couch and the bottle of tequila. Sure, I’ll have another.

  Fuck. I’m an asshole.

  Molly came here to talk to me and listen to me, and I shut her down because I don’t want to look weak. Or be vulnerable. I’ve always thought it was a strength that I could hide my emotions. When my parents split up, I didn’t want to let on to either of them, or to anyone, how busted up inside I was. And that has always served me well. I’ve had bad games, made stupid mistakes and had disappointments in my career. I get through it by shrugging it all off. I’ve had all kinds of family shit going on that I stayed apart from.

  Ever since Molly walked out of her wedding, I’ve been dragged into a whole bunch of emotional shit. Telling her all the crap about my family. Taking her to meet them. Her making me talk to my dad when I would rather have a hockey stick poked in my eye. Then…the sex.

  I keep thinking about lying in that sleeping bag with her under the Northern Lights. Fingering her pussy to the most incredible orgasm. Her mouth on my cock and the look of delight in her eyes as she sucked me. I think about playing Trivial Pursuit with her, and yeah, the naked part was fun, but I love how she challenges me and makes me laugh. I remember sitting in front of the fire with her and just talking about anything and everything, including my hopes for my career. And hers. I remember how passionate and excited she was about the new school year and the kids she’d be teaching.

  I’ve mastered the art of the one-night stand, even a few nights of no-strings sex with a woman. But with Molly…I felt stuff I’ve never felt before. Stuff I don’t want to feel.

  And right now…I’m goddamn miserable.

  I blow out a long breath and slouch down into the couch, tequila glass in hand.

  Once this contract shit is settled, I’ll be fine. That’s what’s messing with my head. Not Molly.

  Molly

  I ride the elevator down, cruise through the lobby of Jax’s building and then walk the sidewalk to where I parked my car. It’s getting dark and a chilly wind is blowing off the nearby lake.

  In my car, I start the engine and lock the doors, then I sit there for a few minutes. My heart is shrinking in my chest. I close my eyes on a wave o
f pain.

  I knew I was taking a chance going to see him. I knew there was a possibility he wouldn’t want to see me. I don’t know why I feel so hurt. Maybe I had a tiny pinch of hope that we could still have something?

  That wasn’t my intent in coming here. I really did want to help him, if I could. Because I care.

  I suck in a shaky breath and let it out slowly.

  This wasn’t supposed to happen. I don’t just care about Jax. I love him. Is it a rebound? I don’t think so. I know it’s not. I’m in love with him.

  I was running away from Chicago because I was hurt and humiliated, and didn’t believe in love anymore. And I fell in love…for real.

  Sadness washes through me, heaviness weighing down my arms and legs, my throat burning.

  I could see Jax wasn’t being honest. Maybe that “whatever” attitude works with some people, but I know Jax pretty well now, and I can see past it. He’s not happy. He just doesn’t want to admit it.

  I hate that he feels that way. I hate that things aren’t working out for him.

  But they will. I know it. It may not be exactly what he wants, but he’s a talented player and some team will snap him up if things don’t get done soon. The idea of him leaving Chicago, though, feels like a fist ripping out my internal organs.

  I lean my forehead on the steering wheel. What does it matter to me where he is? We can’t be together regardless. I do know he wants to stay here, though.

  Finally I get my shit together and put my car in drive to head home.

  I still feel like a lump of fractured ice has replace my heart.

  Jax

  Having just showered at the rink, I’m getting dressed when my phone rings. It’s an actual phone call, which usually means it’s Mom or Paul. I reach for it and see it’s Paul.

  Fuck, I can’t take more disappointment right now. I ignore the call and toss my phone back into the locker as I finish dressing.

  Training camp started yesterday. I’m not there. Obviously.

  Whatever he wants to tell me, I’ll find out later.

  My legs have the strength of garden hoses right now. I pushed myself hard out there on the ice. Whatever happens, I’m going to be in shape to deal with it. Unless I have a heart attack first. Ha.

  I zip up my bag of gear and hoist it to leave the arena. I have a massage booked with the trainer I’ve been working with, which is going to feel fucking amazing.

  I turn off my phone while I’m getting worked over by Viktor. Stretched out on the table, my face planted down into the opening, I let him dig into tight muscles from my feet up to my neck and shoulders for an hour and a half. I damn near fall asleep. I haven’t been sleeping that great the last few weeks.

  Molly’s hurt face floats in front of my closed eyes and as usual when I think of her, my gut clenches.

  I try to push that aside though. I heard from Everly yesterday, and Grandpa’s doing okay. His Alzheimer’s hasn’t progressed very much in the last few months, but Chelsea is still doing a lot. The money stuff has been taken care of, and Dad and Uncle Matt are involved in Grandpa’s life again, helping Chelsea more. Now the hockey season’s started, they’re probably busy too, but I hope they can find the time to be there more.

  After my massage, I go for lunch. Eating healthy is a big part of staying in shape, and I haven’t been very diligent about that. But I stop at a Freshii for an Oaxaca bowl that’s full of healthy things like brown rice, black beans and avocado. I sit down to eat it there.

  I pull out my phone to scroll through sports news while I eat, and when I turn it on I discover a bunch of voice mails and about a hundred texts from Paul, the last one in all caps shouting at me to ANSWER YOUR GODDAMN PHONE.

  Jesus. Shaking my head, I tap to call him. I hold the phone to my ear as I fork up some rice, beans and corn, waiting for Paul to pick up.

  “Jesus Christ!” he bellows in my ear.

  I hold the phone out and frown.

  “What’s up, man?”

  “I’ve been trying to get hold of you all morning!”

  “Yeah, I was busy. At the rink skating, then I had a massage.”

  “For Chrissake. Listen. I have news.”

  I pull in a breath, preparing myself. “Okay, lay it on me.”

  “They’re offering five years.”

  I straighten. “Yeah?”

  “AAV 3.8 million.”

  I drop my fork. I close my eyes. We were hoping for four million. That’s pretty close. “What’s the breakdown?”

  “First year, three point five, second year, four mil.” He continues to outline the rest of the contract.

  My heart is hammering. All the tension in my muscles releases and I nearly fall off the stool. “Okay.”

  “Let’s get together and go over all the details. Can you meet now?”

  “Sure. I’m just eating lunch.”

  “Where are you?”

  I tell him.

  “Okay, not what I had in mind. Meet me at Maxime’s.”

  I guess a place like that has a little more privacy for business discussions. I haven’t even eaten my bowl, but I can bring it with me.

  I’m a freakin’ millionaire, but I don’t want to waste my ten-dollar lunch. I laugh out loud as I pack it up and exit the restaurant. I jump into my SUV and drive to the place Paul suggested.

  He’s already there with a bunch of papers in front of him. He stands and shakes my hand, giving me a big grin. “Congratulations.”

  “Fuck.” I grip his hand. “Not signed yet, right?”

  “I think it’s a good offer.”

  The money and the length of the contract are important, but there are a lot of other things that go into it—whether it’s a one-way or two-way contract, bonuses, buyouts, movement clauses, restricted activity clauses, the payment schedule, ticket/travel/housing/vehicle allowances and obligations like media, autograph and promotional appearances.

  It takes us a good while to go through everything. Paul knew what I wanted, so there isn’t anything I have an issue with. I have questions on a few things, which he explains.

  In the end, I’m satisfied.

  “Okay.” I sit back in my chair. I managed to eat a steak salad while we reviewed things. “Let’s do it.”

  “Great.” He smiles. “If we can get this signed, you can join training camp. Provided you pass the physical.”

  “I’ll pass,” I vow. “I’ve been working my ass off, waiting for this day.”

  When I leave the restaurant, I’m surprisingly calm. This is fantastic news and I should be jumping up and clicking my heels. It’s fair money. I’d like to make ten million dollars a year, but that’s not realistic for me. But I knew I was worth more than three.

  I want to tell Molly.

  I’m driving home and I want to slam on the brakes, turn around and find her.

  I don’t even know how to find her. I know she lives in Andersonville, but I don’t know her address. I’ve never been there. It’s late afternoon and she’s probably done teaching.

  I should tell my parents first. That’s what I should do.

  I stop at a store and pick up beer, because nothing says celebration more than a good Shock Top. When I’m home, I sit down on my couch with my phone. I want to tell my teammates, but I should wait until everything is signed and the team can announce it.

  But I have to tell Molly.

  I send her a quick text message. Good news. We worked out a deal. Going to sign the contract tomorrow.

  Her response comes right away. Oh, that’s so good! I’m so happy for you. Congratulations!

  Thanks.

  I stare at my phone and the message thread for a few minutes, smiling. Then I sigh.

  I call Dad first, then Mom. I swear them both to secrecy until it’s made public. They’re both happy and relieved, full of congratulations.

  Then I sit in my living room with my beer, all by myself.

  I look around the room. I take in the spectacular view out the floor-to
-ceiling windows. The place is dead quiet. I’m celebrating but…why do I feel so empty?

  This is what I’ve wanted all year. We got it done before the start of the regular season. Why am I not happier?

  24

  Molly

  The last place I want to go is the Chicago Aces Fan Festival. I’d rather go to the running of the bulls in Pamplona. Okay, maybe not.

  But how can I say no to my two little nephews who I adore? I’m looking after them this weekend because my brother Travis and his wife Erin have gone to New York. It’s a business trip for Travis, and Erin tagged along so they could spend the weekend there, and they won’t be back until Sunday night. So I have two little ankle-biters who loooove hockey begging me to take them to the Fan Fest. They know I know some of the players, but they don’t get that I might not want to see Steve.

  Or Jax.

  Maybe we won’t see them. The players will be signing autographs, but not all at the same time, so if we’re lucky, we can avoid them.

  The event is held outside the Aces practice facility. It’s a warm September day, bright and sunny, and the place is crowded with people. I refused to wear my Aces jersey with Steve’s name and number on it, but I am wearing an Aces T-shirt, black with silver and white logo.

  Cam and Josh are both wearing their little jerseys, and they’re practically spinning they’re so excited to see some of their favorite players.

  The scent of hot dogs fills the air as we make our way through crowds. Of course I buy the guys hot dogs and lemonades. They get to play ball hockey with the team mascot Blade, who’s a giant basset hound wearing a brown leather bomber jacket, a scarf and goggles on his head.

  I watch, smiling and laughing, but I’m on edge, constantly glancing around so if I see Steve or Jax I can duck into a hiding spot. And abandon my nephews, sure.

  After the ball hockey, Blade obligingly poses for photos with Cam and Josh. As I turn to move on to another event, Cam spots Steve.

  “Steve!” he calls.