Jenny held the magazine closer to her face and rolled her eyes. She probably could have done the whole eyeroll thing right in front of Jason and he wouldn’t have noticed. He wasn’t the most observant guy in the world at the best of times and now was even worse. She wasn’t sure why, something to do with a girl he was interested in. Or screwed up with. Or was trying to get together with. Or…something. He wasn’t talking, no matter how many times she asked.
Which had been fine the last few weeks because it meant he was too preoccupied to really pay any attention to her. Up until now, anyway.
“I mean it, Jennifer. We need to talk.”
She did the eyeroll thing again then lowered the magazine and shifted positions on the sofa so she could face him. “No, we don’t. Your shirt’s buttoned wrong.”
“What?” He frowned then looked down at his shirt, muttering under his breath as he worked on fixing the buttons. “Don’t distract me. It won’t work.”
“Fine. Leave the house looking like that. See if I care.”
“Dammit, Jennifer—”
“You’re tie’s all crooked, too.”
Jason muttered some more, a little louder this time, the mumbling liberally peppered with some well-placed f-bombs. His fingers finished fumbling with the shirt buttons then moved to the striped silk tie, loosening the knot and botching it even more.
Jenny heaved a loud sigh then pushed off the sofa. “Geez, Jason. How many years have you been doing this? You’re twenty-four. You should know how to tie a tie by now.”
He narrowed his gaze at her, fire flashing in his pale blue eyes. But he didn’t brush her hands away when she reached up to fix the tie. He tilted his head back as she redid the knot then smoothed the length of silk down his chest. She motioned for him to turn around then reached up to straighten his shirt collar, giving him a pat on the shoulder when she was finished. And maybe the pat was a little harder than necessary but so what? He was her big brother and he was being a pain in her ass. Again. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything, just mumbled his thanks and turned back around.
“I mean it. We’re still going to talk when I get back.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Yeah, there is. Like what the hell is going on with you and why you decided to just pick up and leave home.”
“I just needed a change of scenery, that’s all.”
“I call bullshit. And no way Mom and Dad are fine with it.”
“They’re totally fine with it.” In fact, it was her mother’s idea. She knew exactly what had happened, and what Jenny was going through. And she agreed that getting away from the disastrous fallout could only be a good thing.
Their dad was a different story. He didn’t know what had happened, only knew that she and Viktor had stopped seeing each other. He had no idea what Viktor had done. If he did, there was a really good chance he’d go after the man.
So Jenny and her mom decided not to tell him and prayed he never found out, never overheard any of the small town gossip that had sent Jenny fleeing to another state. Just like they decided it would be better if Jason didn’t know. It was a secret just between them.
Them…and however many people Viktor had sent the pictures to.
Rage sent heat rushing to her cheeks and she turned around, moving away from Jason in case he noticed. She didn’t need him asking questions, didn’t need him suspecting anything.
“Somehow I doubt they’re fine with you just dropping everything and picking up and moving down here. And for what? To sit around my place and mope?”
“I’m not moping.”
“Really? What the hell do you call it? All you do is sit around on the sofa and read those stupid magazines all day.”
Jenny paused, her hand mid-air, reaching for a magazine. She let it drop back in her lap and tossed a frown at her brother. “I do not.”
“Yeah? Then what is it you do all day Jenny? You had a good job that you loved back home. Mom said you were even thinking about going back to school. Now you don’t even have that.”
Jenny clenched her back teeth and took a deep breath, trying not to let Jason’s words hurt. He didn’t mean them, not like that. She knew that. But they still stung.
Because they were true. She had walked away from the job she loved—because she wasn’t really given a choice. It was either walk away…or be fired.
Because too many people had discovered what she’d done.
What Viktor had done.
Slut.
Whore.
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to tune out the accusations. One mistake. All her fault. And it was costing her so much, even now, after all these months.
Working retail wasn’t everyone’s dream job, but she had loved it. Loved the hustle and bustle. Loved talking to the customers and helping them out. Loved that feeling of accomplishment when she was able to help a customer find the perfect outfit that made them shine. She even loved the insane behind-the-scenes chaos that often took place, the stocking and ordering and crunching the numbers.
Her plan had been to go back to school for business management, get a degree so she could move up into the higher levels of management. And she had been close, so close.
Just one more thing Viktor had ripped from her with his vindictiveness.
She turned away from Jason, not liking the expression of impatience and irritation on his face. Her voice wasn’t as strong or as convincing as she would have liked when she answered. “I’ve been looking for a job.”
“Really? When?”
“The last few weeks. I’ve had seven different interviews.”
“Yeah? How’d those turn out for you?”
She shrugged and looked away. “I’m still waiting to hear.”
Because so far, she hadn’t heard anything. She hadn’t even received a follow-up call from any of the three interviews two weeks ago. She had sent an email the day after the interview, thanking them for their time. Then she had followed-up with a phone call last week. Nothing. Not even a nibble. Yes, one had said they were interested, that her application was on the very top. And it was the one she really wanted, the position for assistant manager.
But she wasn’t going to hold her breath. It was January, a bad time for retail to be hiring. She knew that—but the knowledge didn’t help alleviate the disappointment.
“I mean it, Jennifer. We’re talking when I get back. You can’t just—”
“I might put an application in at the bar where you guys hang out all the time. Just until something else comes through.”
Jason spun toward her, his overnight bag falling from his hand and hitting the floor with a muffled thud. The color drained from his face, leaving his complexion pale and chalky. His mouth opened and closed, no words coming out for several long seconds. Then he cleared his throat, the sound rough and hoarse. “You, uh, what?”
Jenny bit back her smile and reached for the magazine, raising it so it covered her face. “I said I might put an application in—”
“No. Don’t.”
She lowered the magazine and gave him her most innocent expression. “Why not? You’re complaining I need to find something. That counts. Just until something else comes up—”
“No. Bad idea.” He bent down to retrieve the bag then tossed it over his shoulder. “I mean it. Don’t even think about it.”
“Why not? I thought you said—”
“Yeah, forget what I said. I don’t want you working at a bar. Especially not at Mystic’s.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t. The guys hang out there. You don’t need to be around them.”
Jenny studied her brother over the top of the magazine, surprised at the blush spreading across his face. She bit back another smile. She had no doubt that Jason was being completely honest when he said he didn’t want her working at the bar—but it had nothing to do with his teammates hanging out there.
Not that she’d actually go to work there. She knew abs
olutely nothing about working in a bar or restaurant. Although if it meant she could see one particular hockey player more often—
Down girl.
She shifted on the sofa and swallowed back a sigh. She absolutely could not start thinking about Tyler again, not when she’d spent the better part of the last two weeks trying to forget about him.
Trying to forget about the heat of his body pressed to hers. Trying to forget about the way his arms felt around her. The rasp of his jaw against the sensitive flesh of her breasts and the way her core melted when he pulled her nipple into his mouth. The way the hard length of his cock filled her hand and—
“Why are you squirming?”
“Huh?” Jenny froze, took a deep breath, then forced a smile to her face when she looked at Jason. He was frowning, studying her with those pale blue eyes. “I’m not squirming.”
“You were. And you had this weird look on your face.”
“You’re imagining things.”
“No I’m not. You have to go to the bathroom or something?”
“What!” Heat filled her face and she resisted the urge to run from the room. “Oh. My. God. Jason! No. Just…don’t you have to leave already or something?”
He glanced at his watch then muttered a few incoherent words. “Yeah, Zach’s probably out front waiting. You know where everything is—”
“Jason, just go. I’m not twelve.”
“You’ll be okay while we’re gone?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Okay. My keys are hanging up and I left my credit card on the counter—”
“I don’t need your credit card. I do have money saved, you know.”
The scowl that crossed her brother’s face said he didn’t quite believe her. She ignored it and made a shooing a motion with her hand. “Go. I’ll be fine.”
“We’ll be back on Monday.”
“I know. You told me that already.”
“Try not to wreck the car—”
“Are you kidding me?”
“Or throw any wild parties—”
“Jason! I’m not—”
“And whatever you do, stay away from Mystic’s. I mean it, Jennifer.”
She didn’t bother hiding her eyeroll that time. “Whatever. Go. I’ll be fine.”
Jason frowned at her one last time then moved toward the door. He started pulling it closed behind him then hesitated and popped his head back in, worry clear in his eyes. “And don’t forget what I said about talking when I get back. I want to know what’s going on with you.”
Jenny’s heart slammed into her chest as she stared at the closed door. Something close to fear started forming low in her stomach but she pushed it away. She was worrying over nothing. No way would Jason remember by the time he got back. He had other things on his mind, things that would distract him between now and Monday when he got home.
And even if, by some odd stretch, he did happen to remember, she’d change the subject. Or something. It didn’t matter, because there was no way she was going to tell him what happened.
Ever.
Chapter Seven
Tyler shoved everything into the small bag, not caring if the shit got wrinkled or smelly.
Not caring, period.
His hand tightened around the strap as he stared into the bag, not really seeing the contents: a leather shower kit, damp from when he dropped the thing on the floor. A spare t-shirt, rolled into a ball and shoved to the side. Spare underwear and socks, tangled up with a silk tie.
Fuck it. Let the shit get ruined. He didn’t care. Playing by the rules didn’t matter anymore. Playing by the rules didn’t get you anywhere.
At least, not for him.
And fuck, since when did he become one of those guys who felt so fucking sorry for himself? That wasn’t him. Not usually. He needed to shake the shit off and move on.
He thought he had—until tonight’s shit show of a game. He couldn’t fucking focus. He couldn’t fucking concentrate. And when it came down to the wire, he’d let his team down.
Big time let them down.
And he’d been pulled. The first fucking time in almost a year.
And he’d seen it coming. One glance at the bench had been more than enough to let him know it was coming. Fuck. He could still see the hard glimmer in Coach Torresi’s cold green eyes after he’d let the third goal in—all in under five minutes.
What the fuck?
It was like he hadn’t even been on the ice. Like his body was in front of the pipes but his mind wasn’t.
And everyone knew it.
Even now, he could sense the eyes on him. Watching. Studying. Wondering what the hell had happened to the normally steady and reliable player he had been.
Fuck. He was wondering the same thing himself. And he didn’t have an answer. At least, not one he was ready to admit.
Yeah, okay. Maybe he was still upset that Corbin was staying down in Baltimore. Whatever. Not a big deal. He’d get his chance. Eventually.
Maybe.
Only now, he wasn’t so sure. And whatever chance there was would quickly fade if he kept playing like he had tonight.
Like last night.
No, he wasn’t perfect. No, he didn’t expect a shut-out every night. Maybe that’s what he wanted, but every player out there knew that wasn’t a realistic explanation.
Instead of making him feel better, that only made him feel worse. It wasn’t about expectations, not really. It was about being the best he could be. About moving forward. About proving to everyone else that he had what it took to move up and go all the way.
Only he was proving just the opposite. And if he didn’t get the fuck over it, he might as well just resign himself to being second-best.
And that wasn’t good enough.
Maybe because he wasn’t good enough.
No. Fuck that. He wouldn’t think like that. Couldn’t think like that.
“Fuck no.” He muttered the words to himself then grabbed the zipper on the bag, yanking it harder than he meant to. The head snapped off in his hand, bent and broken. Useless.
Just like him.
“Mother fucker!” Rage swept through him and he grabbed the bag, swinging it in a wide circle before throwing it. It sailed through the air, its arc long and graceful before slowly descending. It hit Zach’s leg and fell to the ground, a crumpled lump of nylon.
Tyler turned away from the stares, his hands curling into fists as he stared at the empty equipment cubicle in front of him. His chest heaved with each harsh breath, his body shaking with the force of his anger.
Anger at himself.
Anger at allowing himself to get so distracted.
Anger at screwing up his play.
Anger at the quiet words and confused rumblings echoing around the locker room.
Fuck. He needed to control himself. Needed to focus, dammit. Needed to move the fuck on and get over this…whatever the fuck this was.
Self-pity? Yeah, probably.
No. Definitely.
“Bowie.” The sound of his name pierced the rumblings echoing around him. An eerie silence settled over the room as all eyes turned toward him. He didn’t need to see them, not when he could feel them.
And he didn’t need to turn his head to know that Coach Torresi was standing in the doorway, watching him with eyes cold enough to send the devil running. Fuck.
Tyler sucked in a deep breath and held it for several long seconds, searching for some elusive calmness. But it wasn’t there, wasn’t anywhere he could find it. And he couldn’t waste more time looking for it, not when Coach was waiting for him.
Watching him.
He took one last deep breath then moved through the locker room. He paused in front of Zach, an apology hovering on his lips as he reached for the bag at his feet.
Zach reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, nothing more than a quick tap. “I got it, man. You better get going.”
Tyler nodded then resumed his walk, forcing his feet to mov
e. Coach didn’t say anything, just studied him with those cold green eyes for several long seconds. Then he nodded, nothing more than a quick jerk of his head, a silent command to follow him.
Their footsteps echoed in the hallway, bouncing off the concrete wall like the beat of an executioner’s drum. Melodramatic? Maybe. But Tyler had seen the expression in Coach’s eyes. How could he not think he was being led to the executioner’s?
Tyler followed Coach into an empty, musty smelling office, tried not to wince when the door closed behind him. Coach moved past him but instead of taking a seat behind the battered metal desk, he perched on the edge of it.
Too close.
But Tyler couldn’t move away, no matter how much he wanted to. Not when Coach was studying him, not when it looked like that was exactly what he expected him to do.
“I’m putting Gardel in the net tomorrow night.” The words hit Tyler with the force of a bullet, shattering him deep in the chest. Ryan was nothing more than a kid, brand new this season. And Coach was going to start him over Tyler? But he didn’t say a word, didn’t move except to nod. He shouldn’t be surprised, not after the last two nights.
Coach Torresi studied him. Intent, focused. Looking for…what? Weakness? Anger? Argument? He’d get none of them. Tyler refused to look at Coach, refused to let him see any reaction. Better to keep staring at that spot on the wall, just behind Coach. Better to pretend he wasn’t reeling inside.
“Nothing to say?”
Tyler shook his head and swallowed past the lump of anger in his throat. “No, Coach.”
“Maybe you should.”
That made Tyler pause. His body sagged, but only for a brief second as he tried to figure out the meaning of the words. What was Coach trying to tell him? That he wanted Tyler to argue? That he expected him to put up a fight?
He stiffened his spine, his jaw working as he tried to figure out how to answer Coach’s cryptic words. But he waited too long because Coach sighed, the sound weary and tense and…almost human.
“You’re pissed.”
“I—” Tyler snapped his mouth shut, not sure what to say. Admit it? Or deny it? He again missed his chance to say anything because Coach kept talking.
“You’re right to be pissed. I get it, Bowie. I’ve been there. Hell, we all have. But you can’t let it get in your head. You want to be pissed? Then be pissed. But don’t let it fuck up your game. And right now, that’s what you’re letting happen.”
Playing For Keeps: A York Bombers Hockey Romance (The York Bombers Book 3) Page 5