Playing to Win (The Trouble with Tomboys Book2)

by Stephanie Street

  One side of his mouth curled into a crooked smile. “Can’t have that, now can we?”

  I walked backwards toward Dad’s office. “I’ll be right back.”

  “I’ll be right here.”

  Dad sat on the edge of his desk. “Come in and shut the door.”

  I did as he asked.

  “I wanted to talk to you here rather than waiting until we got home, because what I’m about to say comes from your coach and not from your dad.”

  I gulped. “Okay.”

  “Jordan, I’m proud of you.”

  Excuse me, what?

  “Um.” I didn’t know what to say.

  “It’s not easy playing the bench and I know you’re not used to it. But you did your job and you played every minute with all you had. I appreciate your effort. You work hard and you’re an asset to our team and I’m glad you’re here.” He paused to smile. “That last part might have been more dad than coach.”

  I rolled my eyes, fighting a grin. “Sixty-forty?”

  He laughed. “More like eighty-twenty.” He pushed off his desk to hug me.

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “You’re welcome. Now, go celebrate with your teammates. I think Joe said everyone was headed over to the diner.”

  “I’ll see what Asher wants to do.”

  Dad glanced at the door. “He’s a good kid. Go easy on him, okay?”

  “Who me?” I said, pointing at my chest.

  “Yeah, you. You forget I know you.” Dad grabbed his jacket off a hook on the wall. I opened the door for both of us to find Asher standing right where I’d left him.

  Dad pumped his eyebrows at me. “Have her home by midnight,” he said in his best dad voice.

  “Yes, sir.” Asher nodded. He pushed away from the wall and reached for my hand. “Ready?”

  I nodded. “See you later, Dad.”

  We didn’t waste any time exiting the rink. Most of the team had already left and only a few straggling spectators remained. Asher led me to his car, parked in the middle of the lot by itself. When we reached the passenger’s side, instead of opening the door, he spun me around, his lips meeting mine.

  “You have no idea how much I’ve been sweating it since I saw that list,” he said against my lips.

  I gripped the front of his shirt and brought him closer. His mouth moved across mine. I loved kissing him.

  “I’m not mad at you,” I said between kisses. “I have no right to be.”

  Asher pulled back to look at me. “If it wasn’t for me you’d have started tonight.”

  I shook my head. “No, if I played better than you, I would have started tonight. But I didn’t. I don’t. It’s not your fault you’re a better hockey player, Asher. It’s mine. If I want to play at the next level, then I have to play at the next level. And I’m not there yet. That’s on me.”

  He leaned back against the car, his hands on my hips dragging me with him. I thought he might kiss me again, but he didn’t. Instead, he held me. With our bodies pressed together and my head on his chest, I felt an emotion I’d never experienced before. A closeness. A connection. Asher was beginning to really mean something to me. Maybe that explained why I didn’t hate him for being better than me, because fair or not, if it had been anyone else, I would have hated their guts.

  “Maybe I could help you,” he said. “We could work out after practice instead of making out in the backyard.”

  I put my hand over his mouth. “Don’t talk like that.” His eyes sparkled. “Making out with you is my favorite time of day.”

  Huh.

  Could it be true?

  Hockey practice had always been my favorite time of day.

  Had Asher replaced hockey in my heart? No. I didn’t believe it, not after such a short amount of time. But then, I remembered the words my dad had spoken a few weeks ago, when he reminded me to live my life and not everything revolved around hockey. I didn’t believe him when he said it, but now, I wondered if he might be right.

  Asher pulled my hand away from his mouth. “Well, then we would never want to stop doing that, but how about we stay for an extra thirty minutes or so? My dad would be thrilled. And I don’t think yours would care, either.”

  I knew mine wouldn’t. And it could be a lot of fun.

  “We could do other stuff, too. Like weight training or speed training. My dad got me into speed training a few years ago. It’s changed my game more than anything else.”

  Tipping my head back, I kissed his chin. “You’ll share your secrets with me?”

  Asher groaned. “Babe, I’ll share all my secrets with you,” he said before kissing me gently.

  “Really? All of them? Because I seem to remember a certain explanation you were going to give about the real reason you play hockey.” I lifted one brow.

  He dropped his forehead down to meet mine. “I thought you forgot about that.”

  “You mean, you hoped I did.”

  Asher sighed. “Okay. You’re right. I owe you. But it’s not as big a deal as you might think.”

  “Then it won’t be a big deal to tell me.”

  “Not here. Let’s go somewhere else.”

  Asher

  “Are you hungry?” I asked once we’d settled into my car.

  “Starving. Aren’t you?”

  “Yeah. Did you want to meet everyone at the diner?”

  Jordan gave me a look.

  “I’m not stalling. I promise. Just trying to be polite and ask what you want.”

  “I want to drive through somewhere and then go sit in the park to eat. And talk.”

  A woman who knew her own mind. I liked it.

  “Okay. Where do you want to get food?”

  “Not where the team is, somewhere else. I know. Turn left at the next light.” Jordan gave me directions to a fast food joint on the opposite side of town from the diner where the rest of our teammates celebrated our first win. We should have joined them, but I didn’t care too much and I had a feeling Jordan didn’t either.

  We ordered our food and then Jordan directed me to a park on the edge of town. I realized I’d been there before with Shari and Caleb when we first moved here.

  I carried our shakes while Jordan grabbed the paper bag with our burgers and fries.

  “This okay?” I asked pointing to a wooden picnic table.

  “Perfect.”

  For the next few minutes we ate and talked about the game. We were both hungry and soon all we had left were our shakes.

  “How is it you didn’t leave a girlfriend back in Minnesota?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve had girlfriends, but not really anyone I cared about beyond a few dates.” Besides, everyone in Minnesota knew everything about me. Not always a good thing.

  Jordan bumped my shoulder with hers. “I bet you left a string of broken hearts behind.”

  “Maybe. But I doubt it.” Why were we talking about this? “What about you? Jarom says he’s never seen you with anyone before.”

  Even in the dim light from distant street lights, Jordan’s cheeks lit. “I don’t know. I guess I never met anyone I wanted to spend time with.”

  “Until you met me.” I puffed out my chest.

  Jordan laughed. “Yeah, you’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

  I liked the sound of that. “Come here.” The night had grown cooler. I moved back on the picnic table top and threw one leg behind Jordan so I could bring her closer. She nestled into my chest.

  “Seriously, though. You never liked anyone?” I had no idea why I pursued this line of questioning, but I kind of wanted to understand why she picked me.

  “Not really. I’ve been focused on hockey. My brothers are a little protective.” She looked up at me. “Although, Joe seems to like you and Payton hasn’t said anything bad, either, so it looks like I made the right choice waiting around for you.”

  “I’m flattered.” Truth.

  She tugged on my shirt front. “Tell me. Why don’t you want to play hockey? And why do y
ou do it if you don’t love it? And for real, how did you get so good? It takes so much motivation to work so hard.”

  “I made a deal with the devil,” I told her only half kidding.

  Jordan shifted in my arms to see me better. “What do you mean?”

  Where to start?

  “My dad played hockey in college. He wanted to play in the NHL but he and my mom were in a car accident. She was pregnant with me and the accident made her go into labor early. Just a couple weeks, but I had to stay in the hospital for a week. Dad’s knee got destroyed in the accident. He was in surgery when I was born. The accident changed things. Dad couldn’t play hockey anymore and Mom had postpartum depression. On top of that, they had a lot of medical bills.”

  “Wow. That sounds really hard.” Jordan’s hand traced the line of my jaw, her face etched with concern.

  “I don’t remember anything from back then, but we’re all still dealing with the aftermath.” I caught her hand in mine and pressed my lips to her palm. I’d never really talked to anyone about this stuff except Shari. After she and my dad had been married for a while, we started talking about things I’d never been able to discuss with my dad. She helped us in ways we needed.

  “So what happened?” Jordan asked.

  “Dad got better but Mom didn’t. She didn’t get help for her depression and when she turned to music as a sort of therapy, my dad got upset, accused her of ignoring me, ignoring him. She couldn’t take it anymore and when I was two she packed a suitcase and her guitar and took off in the middle of the night. We never heard from her again until I was five.” When my dad saw her on the cover of a country music magazine in the grocery store checkout line. He immediately tracked her down and filed for divorce.

  Jordan frowned. “Do you see her much?”

  I shook my head. “I’ve seen her a handful of times. She sends me text messages and a check in the mail for my birthday and every major holiday. Even some of the obscure ones like National Rubber Duckie Day.”

  “Does that even exist?”

  “January thirteenth.”

  She giggled. “That’s funny.”

  I agreed.

  “I don’t understand what all that has to do with hockey, though.”

  “Well,” I sighed. “Part of the reason my mom left had to do with her music. Dad thought all the time she spent singing and playing guitar was a waste. She’d do that rather than take care of me or the house while he worked. He never told me but my step-mom did after they’d been married for awhile that Dad would come home from work and I’d be naked except for a dirty diaper, screaming for food while my mom locked herself in a room with her guitar.”

  “Oh, that’s awful.”

  “Yeah, I’m okay with not remembering any of it.” I picked up my melty shake and took a sip. “She left us to pursue her dream of playing music professionally. It was her dream and we weren’t. That’s all there is to it. Dad has never forgiven her. He blames music for ruining their marriage, for the way she didn’t take care of me the way she should have, for everything. I have pictures of me sitting on her lap. She’s playing the guitar and I’m trying to play, too. Dad tried to keep me away from it, but after she left I was inconsolable, carrying around a toy guitar, not one with strings, but one that had buttons that would light up when you pressed them. Shari told me Dad would hide it and I’d cry. He finally gave in and bought a seventy-five dollar guitar from the toy section.”

  “So, he wants you to play hockey because he doesn’t want you to become focused on music like your mom did?”

  “It sounds crazy, but he’s convinced if I’m good enough at hockey to play professionally I’ll all the sudden develop a passion for it. And it’s not like I don’t enjoy hockey, I do.” I gave her a lopsided grin. “And I probably do like it more because I’m good at it, but I can’t deny the music inside me. It’s there and I can’t stop it and I don’t want to. He just doesn’t understand. For him, music is something that brought him a lot of pain. He blames Mom’s choices on music, but really, she’s just selfish. It has nothing to do with music. Lots of people have careers doing what they love and still make time for their families.”

  Jordan’s hand caressed my forearm. “And you made a deal with the devil.”

  I nodded. “When I was younger, he’d take my guitar away from me as punishment. Now, it’s more play hockey, keep up my grades, and he keeps his grumbling to a minimum. But I have to excel, work for it. Hockey can’t just be a hobby, I have to treat it like a goal.”

  “Music is your motivation. Even in hockey.”

  I breathed a small sigh of relief. She got it. She understood. I felt a weight lift off my shoulders.

  “I don’t want to bag on your dad or anything, but that’s kind of unfair. I mean, you aren’t your mom.”

  “How could I be, knowing what she did to us?” I shook my head. “I’ve talked to Shari about it. My mom was sick. She had untreated depression. That’s part of the reason she left us. And I think Dad knows that, he just still struggles with his own issues. I wish he’d go to counseling. He has a lot of pent up anger at my mom he needs to deal with. But he won’t.” I turned to Jordan. “I don’t want to be like either of them.”

  “I think that means you won’t be.”

  We sat silent for a few moments. I enjoyed being with Jordan. I felt closer to her than anyone. I knew she had no idea how much it meant to me to be able to share my past with her and for her to accept me for me.

  “So, what happened to your mom? Did she ever make it with her music?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jordan

  I didn’t get a straight answer to my question about Asher’s mom. He’d already revealed more than he probably wanted about his family drama so I let it go. If he wanted me to know more, he’d tell me. That didn’t mean I wasn’t tempted to Google famous people with the last name Sloane, but I held myself back. She likely didn’t use that name anyway.

  The night in the park changed things between us. I understood Asher better. Understanding brought compassion. And a fierce protectiveness. I knew Asher loved his dad and respected him, but I wanted to scream at him for creating this conflict in his son.

  Of course, I couldn’t do that.

  Over the next few weeks, life settled into a pattern. Asher began picking me up in the mornings. It gave us another ten minutes to be together and apparently we were at the point in our relationship where every moment counted. I asked him to not park in my spot and eventually it filled each day with a different car. I realized I’d been holding onto something trivial and decided to fill the void in my life from my brothers moving out by reaching out more through phone calls and group texts. It’s made a difference.

  Some days, I’d sit with Natalie and Kelly during lunch, but others I followed Asher to the practice room and listened to him and the guys practice. They were really good and I liked hanging out with Jarom, Adam, and Bash. It took a while to get them to loosen up around me, but I liked to think we were becoming friends. I even helped them come up with a new band name. The original name before Asher came along had been Three Fold, but since they added a fourth member, that name didn’t make sense anymore. They’d been throwing names around while I just listened, skirting around a theme but not quite finding the right name. Finally, it came to me and when I blurted it out, they’d all stopped to stare before each head nodded. That’s how they became Breakout.

  After school each day we had practice, and after practice, Asher insisted we work for thirty minutes on speed training. He taught me how to use exercise bands to build explosive power and I couldn’t believe the difference it made on the ice.

  “Hey, babe?” Asher rolled over to face me. We were laying side by side on the grass, completely spent after our workout.

  “Yeah.” My muscles ached. I didn’t want to move for the next week. Maybe someone would bring me a blanket and I could sleep right there.

  “I need to tell you something.”

  Oh, t
hat didn’t sound good. I rolled onto my side so we faced each other. “What?”

  For a split second, I panicked. What if he wanted to tell me he didn’t like me anymore? Or he wanted to take a break or something? We’d been spending a ton of time together. I didn’t mind but what if he’d grown tired of me?

  Then, he reached out, a tiny smile lighting his face as he brushed his fingertips down my cheek. “How can you still be so pretty after the workout we just did?”

  “Stop it.” I batted his hand away, but couldn’t hold back my grin.

  He laughed. “Okay, here goes. Jarom got us a gig.”

  My eyes widened. “Really? Where?”

  “It’s nothing big. But there’s this thing they do in the park once a month.”

  I nodded because I knew about those. Apparently, Natalie had kissed Finn at one over the summer. I didn’t get into indie bands very much so they weren’t my thing, but I knew people did.

  “Jarom said they’ve done a few shows in the park and the organizers invited them back. There’s not any money in it or anything, just exposure, but we want to do some of my songs.”

  “That’s really cool. When is it?”

  “Next week. On Saturday. It’ll be after our game and I wondered if you would want to go.” He seemed nervous to ask and I wondered why.

  “Of course, I want to go. Why would you think otherwise?” I searched his face for clues to what he was thinking or feeling.

  “I don’t know,” he said and I noticed his cheeks were red again after they’d already cooled from the exertion of exercising. Was he embarrassed?

  “Why are you being so shy about this?” I asked.

  He rose up onto his elbow and rested his head in his hand. I mirrored his position and he set his other hand on my waist. “I’m not. I’m excited about it.”

  I got this weird feeling that made me kind of sick. “Do you not want me to go and you’re just asking because you feel like you have to?”

  Asher frowned. “What? No. Why would you ask me that?”

  “Because you’re being a weirdo.” Pushing off the ground, I sat up.

  He scrambled to sit up, too. “I’m not trying to be.” Asher shook his head and raked both hands through his hair. “I have no idea what’s happening here.” He reached for my hands and held them tight as he stared directly into my eyes. “Jordan, I have a gig in the park next Saturday and more than anything I want my girlfriend there to support me. Will you please, please go?”