Game On

by Collette West

  Then he texts out of turn, distracting me.

  JILLY: What are you wearing?

  ME: We're SO not going there.

  A second later, a photo comes through—a selfie of him holding his phone above his face, lying in bed, shirtless.

  ME: Nice brace.

  JILLY: Yeah, pretty sexy hardware, huh?

  I cover my mouth with my hand to stifle a giggle. He never talks like this in real life. He's not flirty, but I kind of like this side of him.

  ME: You even sleep with it?

  JILLY: For now. Unless you wanna come over & help me take it off…

  My cheeks flare up. Wow, is he sexting me right now?

  I glance around the empty, windowless basement like anyone can see me before I hold my phone over my shoulder to take a pic and hit send. I hold my breath, waiting for him to respond.

  JILLY: You're wearing my shirt!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  The exclamation points are through the roof.

  ME: Every night.

  JILLY: You didn't take it with you to NYC?

  He's too smart. The corner of my mouth turns up, hating to have to admit this.

  ME: It's my backup. All my stuff got shredded, remember?

  JILLY: You have MULTIPLE shirts of mine?

  Of course he wants clarification about that.

  ME: Yep & this one is staying on my body, so dream on.

  I grin, knowing that'll drive him crazy.

  JILLY: I showed you mine :(

  I love the unhappy emoticon.

  JILLY: You're not gonna show me yours?

  Who is this guy and what has he done with Jilly? It must be the painkillers talking.

  ME: Did you really just use that lame-ass line on me?

  JILLY: Worth the try…

  ME: Sorry. You gotta earn it, big guy!

  JILLY: And how do I do that?

  Now I'm the one pausing to reflect, my fingers hovering in midair. What do I say? That I want him back? That I want to see him again? But what if we meet up and he pulls the whole 'silent treatment' thing again? There's a safe distance separating us on the phone. It's not as vulnerable as face to face; it's just words on a screen. He doesn't have to look into my eyes and I don't have to look into his.

  Because if I'm keeping it real, he's not over what I did to him. Not by a long shot. He's trying, but he's not there yet. If he were, we wouldn't have to be texting each other from separate beds in the middle of the night. I'd be with him right now.

  I sink back under the covers, knowing what I have to do but not wanting to do it.

  ME: It's getting late…

  JILLY: Hailey?

  It's like I can hear him saying my name inside my head. It makes me stop and reconsider what I'm doing, but he shoots me another message before I can reply.

  JILLY: Sweet dreams then.

  ME: Yeah, you too.

  I cringe looking at my response. What the hell am I doing? He's not some random guy in a bar that I'm blowing off, he means so much more to me than that.

  I just don't know what to do about it.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Jilly

  I hear a door slam, and I step out from beneath the hood of the car I'm working on.

  "Dude, relax. It's just the mailman," Rick gripes. "It's been a week. I don't think she's coming. She must've gotten a new tire somewhere else."

  "You don't know that," I protest stubbornly, no longer in the mood to tinker with the busted engine Rick gave me to work on.

  "It's all your fault, you know," Rick grumbles, inspecting what I've done so far, which isn't much. "You didn't have to go and be your rude-ass self to her. You could've tried a little harder, dude."

  "Why? She was at the park to see Kurt." I root around among Rick's tools like I'm looking for one in particular.

  "You don't know that." Rick exhales deeply, like he's sick of having this conversation with me already. "She was on the back trail, jogging. She wasn't exactly front and center among the bimbos, screaming her head off for him."

  "She wouldn't be. That's not her style," I mutter, not in the mood to agree with him on anything.

  "Well, she came to Kings Stadium for you, didn't she?" Rick retorts, closing the hood with a bang. "And she sat there through all your stupid high school games where everyone could see her."

  "But she came back here, where he is…" I trail off helplessly.

  "Where else was she supposed to go, Jilly?" Rick asks, not bothering to hide his irritation. "You've been acting like a real dick lately and I've been letting it slide 'cause you're not feeling well, but I'm getting sick of your attitude, man. Moping around, letting yourself go to hell. When was the last time you even shaved, dude? Weren't you supposed to start your rehab this week? What, are you dodging that too? I'm sure the Kings are gonna love that."

  "I got the emailed list of exercises they want me to do." I don't tell Rick how I was supposed to meet with a team of therapists in New York so they could show me how to do them. I didn't even Skype them back when they set up a date and a time, giving them the excuse that I was out of town at an old family cabin in the boondocks and didn't have any service where I was.

  "Yeah, but did you actually do any of them?" Rick crosses his arms and stares at me. "You're not gonna get better if you don't put the work in."

  "I tried them, God damn it," I blurt out, frustrated more with myself than with him.

  "And?" Rick prompts, placing his hands on his hips.

  "My arm hurt like hell, all right? So I stopped. Happy now?" I shove myself away from the toolbox, hating to see the disappointment flash in his eyes.

  "You're better than this, Jilly," Rick says, shaking his head. "You wouldn't have gotten to where you are in your career if you hadn't fought tooth and nail for it. If you shut yourself down because of what happened with Hailey, then it's time to turn yourself back on again. Pity party's over."

  But my jaw falls open when I see a head of blond curls pass in front of the window, the top of her head barely visible.

  "What is it?" Rick asks in alarm.

  "She's here! She came!" I feel my heart start to race. Jesus, I really wish I'd showered this morning.

  "Calm down, Romeo," Rick laughs when the front buzzer rings. "Let me go get her so you can get your shit together. At least come up with a good opening line, you got me? Make her feel like a million bucks. I know you've got it in you somewhere."

  I pace anxiously among the cars that are in various stages of repair, ducking around the lifts. I wish I had time to run upstairs and wash up a little or at least change the shirt I've been wearing for the last two days. My fingers play with the gears on my brace in an attempt to diffuse the rioting in my stomach. I'm not thrilled that Hailey's going to see me at loose ends, but it's certainly better than not seeing her at all.

  I hear Rick's voice getting closer as he leads her through the garage. I turn around and try to compose myself, running my hands across what's becoming a full-fledged beard. God, I don't even remember the last time I shaved. Rick's right. What the hell's the matter with me? But all thoughts about my appearance fly out the window when I hear my name spoken out loud.

  "How are ya doing, Jilly?"

  I drop my head, wishing I could disappear, because it's not Hailey.

  It's Sasha.

  "God, don't look so devastated," she jokes.

  I hate that I'm being such a coward around one of the bravest girls I know. Slowly, I take a step toward Sasha, my eyes lowered. I see that her ankles are swollen from her pregnancy, and she still came all this way just to see me. Chase must've told her where I am.

  Her feet start moving closer, and the scent of her strawberry shampoo surrounds me. Within seconds, her hands are on my chest and her brilliant, blue eyes, a shade lighter than Hailey's, are gazing up at me. I take a shaky breath, knowing that she's always been able to see me for who I am. My size has never frightened her. My silence has never scared her away. I was a fool to think that whatever Hailey wrote coul
d drive a wedge between Sasha and me. She has my back and I have hers, and that's the way it'll always be. Sasha's a true friend, one I can always count on.

  "I'm not mad, Jilly," she says softly, lifting up my chin with her fingers. "Is that what you think?"

  I look at her sadly and nod my head.

  Rick clears his throat. "I'm just gonna step out and grab some lunch. I'll be back later. Much later."

  He grabs my flannel shirt, which I flung on the desk, quickly rolling up the sleeves to cover his grease-stained T-shirt. Normally, I would bust him that my shirt's falling well below his knees, but he seems to be in too much of a hurry to get out of here. Having Chase Whitfield come to his garage was one thing. Sasha Roberts is quite another. Rick can tease me all he wants, but he's not that great when it comes to dealing with women either. He can't handle meeting his dream girl in the flesh. Even sturdy, reliable Rick's not immune to Sasha's charms. I don't think he's gonna be razzing me anytime soon for carrying her off the field that night. I think he finally gets it now that he's been in her presence.

  "Bye, Rick. It was nice—" Sasha says, spinning around, but Rick's already gone. "Wow. Where'd he go?"

  "I think you freaked him out," I respond with a chuckle.

  "Great," she moans, grimacing. "I hate when I do that."

  "He'll come around. He's just not used to all you Kings dropping in on him like this." I lean against the side of one of the cars, crossing one leg over the other. "I don't think it'll ever sink in that I work with all these famous people."

  "Famous or not, we're all worried about you, Jilly." Sasha pats my arm, but I don't feel the surge of electricity that I used to. Instead, all I feel is the warmth of a battle-tested comrade, one who's fought beside me in the trenches and knows what it takes to win a world championship. "Chase heard from Tony, who heard from Terry, that you didn't show up for your first rehab session. So I came to find out what's going on."

  "Nothing like getting your information through the Kings' gossip chain," I mutter, frowning. "You could've just called."

  "Yeah, but I wanted to see how you were doing," Sasha admits, and I have to say that it makes me feel good. "I had a little hiccup in my pregnancy."

  I step forward in concern, but she waves me off.

  "I'm okay. Everything's fine. But that's why you didn't hear from me until now. I wanted to get in touch with you sooner because it was bothering me that we didn't get to talk before your operation and after Hailey's identity was made public. I know she wrote a whole book about me, implying a love triangle between me, you and Brooks, and I didn't want things to be weird between us." She tucks her curls behind her ear, giving me that pleading look I know so well—the one where I can never deny her anything.

  "We're cool," I say briskly.

  "Good." She smiles at me in relief. "But what about you and Hailey?"

  "I just…don't know." I rub the back of my neck and shrug.

  "I get that," Sasha responds. "Brooks isn't too happy with her either, but he didn't meet her. I did, and I really liked her."

  "And you're okay with how she wrote about all of us?" I search deep into her eyes.

  "Brooks is a little creeped out about how she knew that my nickname for him is Sandy, but I think he's paranoid from watching too much TV, thinking everything's some kind of ellaborate conspiracy. It's entirely possible that I let it slip somewhere during an interview and she picked up on it. I give her credit. The girl did her homework. I think she knows more about us than we do." Sasha manages a grin even though I know it's hard for her.

  "I'm so sorry, Sasha—" I start.

  "There's no need to apologize. What's done is done. You're as much of a victim in all of this as anyone. I just hate that she hurt you, Jilly." She gives me a forlorn smile that makes my heart ache because she knows how much Hailey means to me. "I was so excited to hear that you had someone in your life. It's been killing me ever since all that stuff went down between us last season and you got stuck being the odd man out."

  "I'm used to being alone. I'll get used to it again," I grumble bitterly.

  "But I don't want you to." She reaches for my hand, squeezing two of my fingers in her tiny palm. "You deserve better than that. Much better."

  "If it can't be with Hailey"—I swallow hard—"what's the point?"

  "Because I don't think you're over Hailey." Sasha gently swings my good arm. "And I really don't think you should give up on her yet. I was talking to Chase and—"

  "Fuck," I groan.

  "Wait. Hear me out. Chase knows what he's talking about. He's been around and has seen a hell of a lot. He didn't know much about Grey in the beginning either. She kept secrets from him that she probably shouldn't have, but it didn't make him love her any less." Sasha looks at me in concern when I pull my hand away and let it drop to my side. "But he gave her a second chance. He didn't turn his back on her."

  "Is that what you think I'm doing?" I ask abruptly. "Because I put myself out there for her, Sasha, since I came back and she still hasn't come to see me."

  "Jilly, if I know you, you're not the best communicator in the world. What seems clear as day to you could be as foggy as hell to her. If she didn't come to you, I bet it's because she thinks you don't want her to. If you gave her some kind of implied message, forget it. You need to spell it out for her. Lay it all on the line." Sasha studies me, knowing she's right.

  I kick the tire with my heel, wishing I hadn't bungled this yet again.

  "You're not gonna make it through a yearlong rehab stint alone, Jilly," Sasha continues. "You have a long haul ahead of you, and being down in the dumps isn't going to help you get back on the mound. You need to straighten this out with Hailey first. Don't let regret drag you down, Jilly. Whether you like it or not, you need her."

  "And if she wants to keep writing?" I pose the question that won't stop buzzing through my head, the one that scares me the most.

  "As much as you don't like it"—Sasha takes a deep breath—"you let her."

  "What…why?" I look at Sasha in bewilderment.

  "Because you love her," she answers simply.

  "And what if I can't move past it?" I look down, afraid of what's going to happen if I can't fix this with Hailey.

  "I think you can." Sasha tugs on my sleeve, reaching up to give me a kiss on the cheek. "You're a great guy, Bruce Gillette. Better than you know."

  I blush. I'm not one to be fussed over, but it's exactly what I needed to hear to get my head back on straight. I was spiraling into a dark place, and Sasha just brought me back—because that's what friends do. They help each other.

  I tenderly caress the side of her face with my large hand, bending down to kiss the top of her head like I would if she were my little sister. She smiles, patting me on the chest before stepping back.

  "Feel better?" She smooths out her billowy maternity top, staring up at me expectantly.

  "Yep." I smile meekly back at her. "Thank you for that."

  "You're very welcome. Now I'd better head on back to New York before Brooks has a heart attack." She giggles, and it's funny to see her now bulging body waddle toward the door. "He doesn't know I'm gone."

  "Sasha, you can't keep doing things like that to him," I rebuke her. "You know how he is."

  "I know, but I gotta have some fun. It sucks just sitting in the stands night after night. I need more excitement in my life." She pantomimes having an imaginary bat in her hands and swinging for the fences.

  I grin at her begrudgingly. "That a girl."

  "Let me know how it goes with Hailey, okay?" She has one foot out the door, the sunlight streaming in on her. "Even if it's just one of your smiley face texts."

  "Will do, chief." I give her a wink.

  "And get back to therapy. I don't wanna have to come here again to give you a swift kick in the rear. The team needs you, Jilly. It's not the same without you." She tilts her head to the side, her eyes glowing with sincerity.

  "Or you," I counter.

  He
r smile widens. "You know it!" she exclaims, blowing me a kiss before letting the door shut behind her.

  I glance around the empty garage, not feeling as lost or forsaken as I did. I'm through with punishing Hailey. I just need to see her.

  So get ready, Ms. Bukater—because here I come.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Hailey

  I get back in my car and drive away, not believing what I just saw.

  Jilly kissing Sasha Roberts.

  Sasha Roberts kissing Jilly.

  Yeah, not on the lips, but still…

  All last season, I never let myself believe the rumors flying around that there was something going on between them, but there's no denying it now.

  The way he touched her, the way he looked at her—it's making me question everything.

  How stupid was I to put myself out there when he's still hung up on one of the most sought-after women on the planet?

  I pull onto the side of the road and crumple over the steering wheel, feeling like I've been stabbed through the heart. I can't breathe. I can't think. All I can see when I close my eyes is his hand on her face. I don't know what it means. I don't want to know what it means. It just hurts so damn much.

  I don't care if Sasha's pregnant or that she's engaged to one of Jilly's teammates. It's not about them being friends or ex-lovers or whatever the current status of their relationship is—it was seeing him be that tender with her, that intimate. That's what hurts.

  I'm jealous that the bond they have runs that deep, but it never would've formed if I had just reached out to him sooner. Sasha was able to fill that void in his heart because I took myself out of the picture. He gave a part of himself to her last year—a part that, before, had only ever belonged to me.

  I left the door open, and Sasha stepped through.

  And it's not hard to see why. I felt the pull when I was around her, too. She's brave. She's tough. She's determined. She's someone you can't help but admire. I can see why he wanted to protect her, just like he's always wanted to protect me. A piece of him will always belong to her now, and I don't know how to accept that—the idea of sharing him with someone else when he's always been mine, wholly and completely.