Powerplay

by Heather B. Moore

  What had followed was a series of texts, mostly Meg asking how he was doing and offering to help and Jax saying he was fine but thanks for checking in.

  This text, though, was different.

  Heard you’re playing tonight. Good luck, Jax. I’ll be watching with my grandma and crossing my fingers for you.

  It was sweet. And now he was wondering if she’d told her grandma about the accident. Probably not. And that was fine. He’d told both his agent and his dad to drop the subject. Except for the healing road rash and the occasional twinge in his hip, there was nothing to think twice about.

  He had started to reply to Meg’s text with a standard thank you when he paused. Maybe if he called her now, she’d pick up. The text had come in only a few minutes ago, so he pressed SEND on her number.

  On the third ring, he was about to hang up when she answered in a breathless voice, “Hello?”

  “Meg?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Were you, uh, running or something?”

  “No,” she said. “I was just . . . well, I was on top of my grandma’s counter, dusting her cupboards. When my phone rang, I might have tried to get off the counter too fast, and I might have slipped, and then . . . well, you know the rest. I didn’t want you to have to leave another rambling message. This phone tag thing has gotten old.”

  Now Jax was smiling. “My messages are rambling?”

  She hesitated, and her voice was lower when she spoke. “A little.”

  He swore he heard the smile in her voice. “Well, I think yours are too short. You don’t tell me sorry nearly as many times as you should, and you’ve only offered to take out my trash about fifteen times.”

  “That bad, huh?”

  Jax was grinning. Sitting in his car by himself, grinning. “But I do appreciate the offers, though I think you can stop now.”

  “Oh.” Did she sound disappointed? “’Cause you’re all better?”

  “I’m all better,” he said.

  “Yeah, that’s what the media said.” She gave a small sigh. “I mean, not that they’re reliable, but I thought I’d wish you good luck anyway. In case you need it. Do you need it, Jax Emerson?”

  She’d used his full name in the messages she’d left, and he decided that he liked it.

  “I’m never opposed to someone wishing me luck,” he said.

  A sports car whizzed into the parking lot. Lucas was here, and Jax watched the huge goalie get out of his tiny car. Lucas didn’t even look his way, which was fine with Jax. He wasn’t looking for a grand entrance.

  “It’s almost ready, Grandma,” Meg said in a muffled tone. Then, more clear to Jax: “The pre-game talk is starting up, and she wants to eat in front of the TV.”

  “You cooking?”

  “I am,” she said, her voice coy. “And I’d bring you dinner if you let me. But it seems you’re too fine to accept anything from me.”

  “Like I said in my texts, I’m not opposed to dinner, but not as an apology.”

  “Yeah.” Her tone was softer. “I read that, but I wasn’t sure what you meant.”

  Jax really shouldn’t do this. In fact, he should tell her thanks for watching the game and to have a nice life. Without him. Instead, he said, “I was thinking of dropping by your shop and checking it out. Then maybe after we could get something to eat. Or you could cook for me. I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

  The silence on the other end of the phone lasted way too long to be normal. Maybe her grandma was talking to her again? “Meg?”

  “Pro hockey players don’t just drop by my boutique,” she said. “I mean, we don’t sell menswear.”

  He really wished he could see her face. “I think you’re missing my point, Meghan.”

  “Okay, then, come by the shop,” she said quickly. “But I’m paying for dinner, and you aren’t going to change my mind. When do you think you’ll come?”

  “No can do,” Jax said.

  “You’re not coming now?”

  “I think it would be better if I surprise you.”

  She laughed. A nervous-sounding laugh. “Oh, it will be a surprise. Just prepare yourself for my employees fangirling over you.”

  “Employees?”

  “Yeah, Nashelle works full-time, although I don’t even think she knows that hockey is a real sport. But my part-timers will probably faint on the spot if they see you come into my shop.”

  Jax chuckled. “That would be a first. But what about you, Meghan? What will you do when I come see you?”

  “I think it would be better if I surprise you with my reaction,” she quipped.

  Bumps raced along his arms. She was flirting with him, definitely flirting. “Touché.”

  The thump of a loud bass to a rap song preceded the sighting of Corbie, the other starting forward on the team. His black SUV practically vibrated with the thumping beat he had cranked up.

  “What’s that?” Meg asked.

  “You can hear it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Corbie is here,” Jax said. “Time to get inside and change.”

  “Oh, right,” Meg said. “Well, good luck again.”

  Jax had to go, but he didn’t want to hang up. A buzzer sounded on Meg’s end of the call, and then another muffled something to her grandma.

  “Hey,” Jax said. “If you ever want to come to a game, I’ll get you tickets. Bring your grandma.”

  “Oh . . . okay,” Meg said. “She doesn’t like to go out much at night, but maybe if it’s in the afternoon, I can drag her there.”

  The teasing in her voice made him smile. “Don’t make me bribe you.”

  She laughed. “If anything, I could bring one of my fangirl employees.” She paused. “Thank you, Jax. That’s sweet of you.”

  When Jax hung up with Meg, he wondered when he’d last been told he was sweet. He didn’t mind it coming from Meghan Bailey.

  “Here you go, Gran.” Meg set a tray of food on the coffee table. She’d made lasagna, garlic bread, and salad.

  “Thank you, dear.” Grandma wore her faded Chicago Flyers jersey and had on her glasses—which meant she was ready for the game. She’d also done her hair and makeup as if they were going out. It made Meg smile.

  “I didn’t want to miss the announcement about Jax Emerson,” her grandma said. “He’s going to be playing tonight, you know.”

  “I know.” Meg arranged a plate for her grandma, then handed it over to where she sat in her easy chair, making sure there were plenty of napkins to catch any spills.

  “This smells heavenly.” Grandma cut into the lasagna on her plate. She took a bite, then said, “It’s wonderful, dear, but who were you talking to in there?”

  This question made Meg pause. She could blow it off, say it was one of her employees with a question . . . But what if Jax really did give her hockey tickets? That wasn’t something she’d hide from her grandma.

  “I have something to tell you, something you might find hard to believe.”

  Her grandma finished chewing a bite of lasagna. “Not much surprises me anymore.”

  This will, Meg thought. She took a deep breath. “All right, you know how I said I’d be staying over at the shop the other night?” Sometimes when she had inventory, she’d sleep in the back room because she didn’t want to drive home for just a few hours, then have to return early.

  “Yes, you had extra work because Nashelle had been sick.”

  “Well, that part was true,” Meg said.

  “Are you saying you fibbed, Meghan Bailey?” Grandma used a napkin wipe her mouth.

  Despite being thirty-two years old, Meg could still be chastised by her own grandmother.

  “I’m sorry, Gran,” Meg said. “It was complicated and—”

  “Did you use birth control at least?”

  Meg’s mouth fell open.

  “You know that protection is essential, even if it’s one time. Young people these days do things out of order. They don’t marry before making love. Don’t thi
nk I’m naïve, young lady.” Grandma cut another piece of her lasagna and proceeded to take another bite, as if she hadn’t just stunned Meg.

  “I wasn’t with a man,” Meg said. “Well, I was, but it’s not what you think. That dent on my bumper wasn’t from a parking lot. I hit a man when he was crossing the road.”

  Grandma’s eyes rounded like a startled cat.

  Meg continued, telling how she’d called the ambulance, then gone to the hospital and waited all day for Jax Emerson to be alone, how she drove him home while he slept in the car, how they’d been texting and playing phone tag over the past several days, and how fifteen minutes ago, he’d offered her tickets to one of his games. The only thing Meg left out was Jax saying he was going to stop by her boutique, because she doubted that would really happen.

  The announcer’s droning voice on the TV was the only sound after Meg finished with her long, convoluted tale.

  Grandma’s gaze had fallen to her plate of lasagna. When she lifted her hazel eyes, she said, “I could go to a night game, dear. I’d just have to take a nap first since I’d need more energy than sitting at home. I don’t have one foot in the grave yet.”

  Meg’s thoughts buzzed. This was Grandma’s answer to everything she’d told her? That she wanted to use Jax’s tickets?

  Meg bit her lip to hold back her smile, but it escaped anyway.

  “Turn it up, dear; they’re talking about your Jax now.”

  Your Jax. Meg turned up the volume. The announcers were talking about the miraculous comeback of Jax Emerson, and from that moment on, Meg was glued to the screen. Behind the announcers, the players were warming up on the ice, and she immediately picked out number eleven.

  “Jax Emerson declined to speak to us before the game, but we have his agent here, Scott Jenson, who will answer a few questions for us.”

  Meg realized that Scott was the second man she’d seen in the hospital, after Jax’s father. He definitely looked like a man who enjoyed facials and manicures. He basically repeated what the announcers had already said, then he added, “I think you’ll see a softer side of Jax after this experience. Sometimes we don’t appreciate what we have until we’re close to losing it.”

  “Isn’t that the truth,” the announcer said. “It happens to all of us. Hockey’s only a game, after all.”

  Meg stared at the screen. Something felt off. Like they were dictating how Jax should act. As if there had been something wrong with him before. She glanced over at Grandma, but she didn’t seem fazed.

  By the time Meg cleared dinner and did a quick round of dishes, the national anthem was being sung. Meg joined her grandma as the starting lineup was announced. When Jax Emerson’s name was called, her heart rate went wild, mimicking the cheers of the fans in the arena. He raised his hockey stick in acknowledgment, and the crowd went wild again.

  “They sure like him,” Grandma said with a chuckle. “Are you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?”

  Meg glanced at Grandma. “What do you mean?”

  Grandma pointed a finger at the TV. “That boy is no bookworm like Blaine. Going out with him will not be a quiet life.”

  “Jax hasn’t asked me out,” Meg said. Or had he? Besides, Blaine was old news. Months old. “And maybe I don’t want a repeat of Blaine. After all, we’re not together anymore.”

  Her grandma had liked Blaine. They’d spent hours doing puzzles together and talking books. Their split had hurt her grandma too.

  But Blaine always had his own agenda. What they did on weekends, where they’d eat, who they should hang out with . . . it had taken awhile for Meg to notice. But once she’d realized that everything was about Blaine and what he wanted to do and what he liked, the rose-colored glasses had faded.

  He’d even talked her into buying a larger apartment, just in her name, and he’d promised to move in and pay half. That had never happened. She’d bought the apartment, but he’d never moved in. Things had ended between them soon after the closing date.

  “I don’t like to see you hurt,” Grandma said. “But being on your own isn’t good either.”

  Meg exhaled a patient breath as she tried to ignore the reminders that her grandma had given her about her pathetic dating life. No, she hadn’t been out with anyone since Blaine. She’d been extremely busy. Mostly. It probably had something to do with the fact that she and Blaine had been together for about three years, and he was always content with where their relationship was. No marriage proposal on the horizon, although Meg had hoped.

  Until the day all her hope had come crashing down.

  Blaine had told her he was seeing someone else.

  Two weeks later, she’d heard from a friend that Blaine and his new woman were getting married soon. Meg had proceeded to unfriend their mutual friends on social media. He was likely married by now, living his happy life without her, but she didn’t have to see the pictures to prove that her heart had been broken into a dozen pieces.

  Six months was plenty of time to get over someone, right? To start dating again, to start opening her mind to new possibilities.

  Seconds after the hockey game started, Jax had the puck under his command. It was a beautiful thing to watch him so effortlessly glide over the ice, maneuvering around the opposing team, passing, then receiving the puck again to make the shot.

  Goal!

  The arena went crazy, and Meg jumped to her feet and squealed. “I can’t believe it!” She wrapped her arms about her torso, hugging herself. Jax had scored in the first minute of the game. Amazing.

  “That’s your boy,” Grandma said.

  Meg didn’t correct her, because she was too busy staring at the man on TV. Jax was back, and he’d just proved it in front of thousands of fans. She hadn’t ruined his career. He was fine. Absolutely fine.

  Still smiling, Meg settled onto the couch. The Flyers scored in the second period, then in the third. Neither was by Jax, but Meg didn’t care. She was just happy that he was on the ice, making plays.

  It was surreal to think that she knew Jax Emerson, had talked to him on the phone before the game. He had said he’d stop by her boutique. And wanted to take her out for dinner. The game ended, and the media was a firestorm, mostly talking about Jax’s comeback. Meg had never smiled so much in her life. Then the announcer said, “Sheila is on the ice with Jax Emerson right now. We’ll cut to Sheila and hear from the man himself.”

  The camera switched to an angle near the team’s bench, and sure enough, a dolled-up journalist held a microphone between her and Jax. He’d pulled off his helmet, and his hair was a sweaty mess.

  “First of all, congratulations, Jax,” the reporter said.

  “Thanks, Sheila,” Jax said.

  “Tell us how you’re doing after your accident,” Sheila continued, her lipsticked smile wide. “We were all cheering for your comeback, but it’s like you were never injured.”

  Jax scrubbed a hand through his hair and leaned closer to the microphone, his slate-gray eyes boring into the camera. “Honestly, Sheila, being hit by a car was better than being hit by Rocco.”

  Sheila laughed. “That’s Rocco De Luca, folks, plays for the Wyoming Steers. Is he the one who broke your collarbone last season?”

  “The very same,” Jax said with a crooked smile.

  “You’re playing the Steers next week,” Sheila continued. “Will there be some payback from last year?”

  “Nah.” Jax high-fived another player who moved past him. “Rocco and I go way back. We’ve had our run-ins on the ice, but we’ve always been friends off the ice.”

  “Most of your club team went pro, right?”

  “The answer is yes as of last month, when Clint McCarthy signed with St. Louis,” Jax said. “And that reminds me. This weekend, we’re holding the first Sabercats Youth Hockey Camp at the Northbrook Elite Hockey Club arena. My former teammates will be joining me, and we’re limited to only one hundred spots. Sign-ups are through the Northbrook website.”

  “Sounds
like an amazing opportunity for kids interested in hockey who want to learn from the pros,” Sheila said in her peppy voice.

  Jax’s gray eyes zeroed in on the camera. “The event is open to the public, so anyone can come and watch.”

  Meg swore he was looking directly at her. She drew a throw pillow against her stomach and squeezed it against her, as if she could stop the butterflies that were circling inside her.

  “There will be a small entrance fee,” Jax continued, “but all proceeds go toward the club hockey scholarship fund. The event was organized by Bree Stone, who recently started up Prime Outreach Incorporated, an amazing nonprofit organization that helps fund athletics for kids and communities.”

  Surprise showed in Sheila’s eyes, likely because she hadn’t been prepared for the conversation to change directions. “Did you hear that, folks? A great opportunity for Chicago kids. Just visit the website to find out more.”

  “The Northbrook Hockey Elite website,” Jax clarified.

  “Right.” Sheila grinned into the camera. “Back to you, Robert.”

  The post-game coverage continued, but Meg wasn’t listening much anymore. Her skin buzzed with happiness for Jax. He’d been at the top of his game, and she couldn’t be more pleased. She wished she could talk to him or text him or something. But that would be pretty bold.

  Yet . . . what would it hurt to text him a congratulations? The butterflies were bouncing again as she considered it. Maybe she should do it now, when she knew he wouldn’t see it for a while. Wouldn’t they be showering, then maybe doing some sort of after-party?

  “Well, I think I’m going to turn in, dear,” Grandma said. “I have a busy day tomorrow, and I can’t stay up like I used to.”

  Meg hid a smile, because her grandma always said she had a busy day the next day. And she supposed Grandma did stay active, with quilting and puzzles and books. “All right, Gran, sleep tight.”

  Grandma chuckled softly. “I know you will be having nice dreams.”

  Meg stared after her grandma shuffling out of the room. Meg should be grateful that Jax was at least a distraction from Grandma talking about Blaine so much.