Playing To Win (The York Bombers Book 2)

by Lisa B. Kamps

  “That’s what I asked you.” She took another sip of coffee then placed the mug on the counter. Her gaze raked over Megan once more, pausing on the pale blue dress shirt that was too big on her. “So what happened? Because something obviously did. I haven’t heard from you for two days, and that is not the shirt you had on when you left the nightclub. So—what happened?”

  “We, uh—” Megan shifted then moved past Haley, grabbing a coffee pod from the box. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Haley, not when her face was already turning red. She shoved a cup under the dispenser and hit the brew button. “We went back to his place and, uh, you know—”

  “Since Tuesday? You’ve been there this whole time?”

  “Um, yeah.” She stared at the coffee brewer, wishing it would work a little faster. Maybe talking to Haley would be easier if she had some caffeine in her system.

  “But since Tuesday? And you’ve been, you know—” She waved her hand back and forth, her eyebrows raised in surprise. “All this time? Seriously?”

  “No! I mean, yes. Not really. Kind of.”

  “Damn, girl. And you’re still walking? I’m impressed. Unless he was a dud. Was he a dud?”

  More heat filled Megan’s face, heat she couldn’t blame on the brewing coffee, no matter how close she was leaning toward the machine. But she should have known Haley would say something, should have known she’d make some kind of colorful comment. “No, he wasn’t a dud.”

  “Then why are you here so freaking early in the morning?”

  “Because you need to change me back! Turn me back into me.”

  Haley grabbed her mug from the counter and stared into it, frowning, then looked back at Megan and shook her head. “I think I may have grabbed decaf by mistake.”

  “No, it’s regular. I looked.”

  “No, it has to be decaf. That’s the only explanation.”

  “Explanation for what?”

  “For me not understanding a single word you’re saying! Megan, you’re already you. There’s no changing anything back because I didn’t change anything forward. Or whatever. You’re you. There’s nothing to change.”

  “Yes, there is.” She grabbed a hank of hair and pulled it out to the side, holding it up. “Like this! Get rid of it. Change it back.”

  “Why? Your hair looks great that way!”

  “No. I want it to go back the way it was. Plain dull brown. Straight and boring and unnoticeable.”

  “Now you’re really not making any sense.” Haley tightened her grip on her coffee mug then grabbed Megan’s arm and tugged. Megan didn’t bother fighting, just let Haley pull her into the small living room. She flopped down onto the sofa then muttered, wishing she would have remembered to at least grab her own coffee.

  Haley shifted on the sofa, kicking off both worn slippers and drawing her knees up to her chest. She ran a hand through her wild hair, pushing it away from her face, then took a deep breath and fixed Megan with a steady gaze that was too awake, that saw too much. “Now tell me what’s going on. Why do you think you need to change back to whatever? Did something happen?”

  “No. I mean—” Megan took a deep breath and looked down at the hands in her lap. Instead of seeing plain short nails, covered in nothing more than clear polish, she saw long, well-shaped nails covered in brightly colored gel polish. Bright pink, all except for the ring finger of her left hand, which was colored an eye-catching emerald green. What had she been thinking when she chose the colors? So bright, begging for attention…and so unlike her. All of this—the hairstyle, the hair color, the style of clothes—none of this was her. At least her face was free of the make-up now, all except for the stubborn mascara that hadn’t washed off in the shower.

  The shower she’d taken with Jason.

  The memory heated her face and she took another deep breath, trying to push it away. To push all of it away. She couldn’t think about it now, didn’t want to think about it now.

  She looked back up, noticed Haley watching her. Waiting.

  “Nothing bad happened. At least, not in any way you might be worried about.”

  “Then what?”

  “I just—” She hesitated then took another deep breath. “I don’t want him to recognize me. I want to go back to looking like me. Like I used to.”

  Haley’s eyes widened in surprise for a brief second, then narrowed in a combination of anger and irritation. “You don’t want him to recognize you? Megan, unless you’ve spent the last two days in total darkness with a bag over your head, he’s going to recognize you!”

  “No, he won’t.” The words were barely more than a whisper, harder to speak than she thought they’d be. Megan twisted her hands in her lap then let out a heavy sigh, filled with frustration and embarrassment and regret. “He’s never bothered to even look at me at the bar. Even when he’s sitting there at the bar and I’m waiting on him. Trust me, if I go back to looking like me, like I did before Tuesday, he’ll never know.”

  “That is such bullshit.” Haley leaned over and slammed the mug down on the coffee table. She ignored the wave of liquid that splashed onto the scarred wooden surface and reached out, taking Megan’s hands in hers. “He’ll recognize you. And if he doesn’t…well, that just proves he’s a fucking asshole that doesn’t deserve one spare second of your time. You deserve better than that, so stop getting down on yourself.”

  “I know.” But the words were empty, hollow. It was easier for her to agree with Haley than to try to explain the doubt eating away at her. She had known, before even going to that nightclub the other night, that nothing would ever come of it. And she was honest enough with herself to admit that she was still surprised that Jason had noticed her. That he’d invited her back to his place.

  That she had stayed there for two nights. Two hot, wonderful, sensual nights. Two nights more than she had planned on. And in her deepest thoughts—no, her deepest fantasies—she had convinced herself that she only wanted one night. That one night would be more than enough. She knew she wasn’t Jason’s type and that she never would be. So all she had wanted was one night.

  She had been kidding herself, thinking she could separate all emotion from sex. She wasn’t like Haley, no matter how much she wished she could be. And she’d made the mistake of letting her emotions get in the way, of opening herself to heartbreak and regret.

  That was why she’d left in such a hurry this morning. Her heart had gotten in the way, wanting too much, starting to hope for more. Silly. And stupid. She had known better and let it happen anyway.

  But she couldn’t regret it—wouldn’t let herself regret it. She’d gotten what she wanted and would keep those memories tucked away. No matter what happened.

  Haley squeezed her fingers, getting her attention. “You’re thinking too much. And if I know you, you’re already over-analyzing everything.”

  Megan shrugged, tried to smile. “Not really. I knew what I was getting myself into.”

  “Did you?” Haley cocked her head to the side, studying her. Seeing too much. Megan tried to look away but couldn’t. “I know you, remember? You always give too much of yourself, never hold anything back. Love Fierce, remember?”

  “Yeah, I know.” Megan pulled her hand from Haley’s and held her arm up. “I see it every day.”

  Haley glanced at her arm and frowned. “See what?”

  “The bracelet you gave me as a reminder. See?” Megan turned her wrist around and glanced down, felt the small smile disappear from her face. The bracelet was gone. She ran her hand over her wrist, like that might somehow make it reappear. “Ohmygod, it’s gone.”

  “Calm down, I’m sure it’s around here somewhere.” Haley pushed to her feet and retraced their steps, her gaze focused on the floor. It was a quick trip between the front door, kitchen, and sofa. Megan didn’t bother to watch her friend, not when she knew the search would come up empty.

  “It’s my fault. The clasp was loose and I should have had it fixed. I shouldn’t have worn it, not
when I knew—”

  “Megan, relax.” Haley lowered herself to the sofa and reached for the mug. “It’ll turn up, I’m sure. When was the last time you saw it?”

  “Last night. After we—well, just last night.”

  “So then it’s probably at Freaky-eye Asshole’s place. Not a big deal. You just ask him for it back the next time you see him.”

  “Uh, yeah. Sure.” Except that wouldn’t happen because he wouldn’t recognize her the next time she saw him. And she had no intention of bringing his attention to her. She had to put distance between the last two nights and each day going forward. That was the only way she’d be able to let the fragile emotions that had suddenly sprouted wilt and die.

  Maybe after that happened, maybe in a few months…maybe then she’d be able to approach Jason and ask about her bracelet.

  If he even remembered by then. If he hadn’t tossed it out.

  Megan gave herself a mental shake and silently told herself to knock it off. She’d known what she was doing, known what she was getting into. Time to stop feeling sorry for herself and get past it.

  “You’re thinking again.”

  Megan looked up, forced another smile. Only this one wasn’t quite as forced, didn’t feel as phony. “Yeah, maybe.”

  “You’re never going to ask him about the bracelet, are you?”

  “I will. Eventually.”

  “And you still want to change your hair and everything else back?”

  “Yeah, I do. I want to go back to being me.”

  “I wish you would stop saying that. You were you. You’ve always been you.” Haley must have seen the silent warning in Megan’s eyes because she sighed, her shoulders slumping in disappointment. “Fine. Let me finish waking up then we can figure out what to do to ‘turn you back’. I still say it’s a mistake, that he’s going to recognize you.”

  Megan didn’t want to argue with her, not when she knew the truth. Jason wouldn’t recognize her, not when she faded into the background. So she gave Haley another small smile and shrugged. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

  Chapter Nine

  Tyler charged from the net, a furious scowl on his face. He slid to a stop in front of Jason, spraying snow on his legs, and pushed the mask up on his head. “What the fuck is your problem? Are you trying to fucking kill me?”

  Jason straightened, meeting Tyler’s angry gaze with his own. “When the hell did you become such a fucking pussy? The shot was legit.”

  “Legit my hairy fucking ass. You damn near took my head off. What the fuck were you thinking? You don’t take a fucking shot like that when I’m stretching.”

  Jason moved closer, his hand curling into a tight fist around the stick as he stared Tyler down. “If you can’t fucking handle it, maybe you should get the fuck out of the net and let someone else do it.”

  “Handle it? You got a problem with my goaltending?” Tyler reached out with his catching hand, pushed against Jason’s shoulder. “If you got a fucking problem—”

  “Yeah, I got a fucking problem.” Jason pushed him back, ready to drop his gloves and tear into him. There was no sound reason for it, not when Tyler was right: it had been a careless shot. But Jason didn’t care about reason, not right now. He was still fucking pissed and looking for a way to get his anger and frustration out of his system. It was Tyler’s bad fucking luck to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  He still couldn’t fucking believe Michelle had snuck out on him last night. Just up and fucking disappeared. No note, nothing. The only thing left behind was the billowy linen shirt she had been wearing Tuesday night, and the fucking leather bracelet he’d found on the bathroom floor.

  And the scent of her faint perfume on the sheets and pillows. And under that, the lingering scent of two nights of wild sex. Just thinking about the last two nights was enough to give him a raging hard-on, which was the last fucking thing he needed right now when he was face-to-face with one pissed-off goalie.

  Jason stepped closer, the toe of one skate butting up against Tyler’s. “Back the fuck off and go do your fucking job.”

  “I am doing my job. Maybe you need to figure out what—”

  “Yeah, you’re doing it so great that the Banners fucking called up Gauthier instead of you. Yeah, brilliant job you’re doing.” And fuck, why the hell had he said that? Tyler was a brilliant goalie, probably better than Corbin Gauthier. Jason should have never said that, figured he deserved whatever was coming. And from the flash of anger burning in Tyler’s eyes, something was definitely coming.

  Then Zach and Aaron were suddenly there, pulling them apart with hissed words of warning. Aaron shot him a dirty look, his battered face twisted in silent condemnation, and grabbed Tyler’s arm, pulling him back toward the net. Zach’s hand twisted in Jason’s sweaty jersey, pulling him in the other direction.

  “What the fuck is your problem? You know better than to pull shit like that.”

  Jason pushed him away, dropped his glove to the ice and straightened the jersey. “Leave me the fuck alone. I don’t need to hear it from you, too.”

  “Hear what? That Tyler was right, it was a fucking cheap shot? You know better.”

  “Yeah, sure. Whatever.” Jason leaned down, grabbed his glove.

  “Come on, man. Knock it off. What the fuck is with you today? You’ve been like this ever since you showed up at practice.”

  “Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Well, you better do something about it unless you want Coach to start torturing you.”

  Jason glanced over his shoulder, saw that Coach Torresi was watching him too closely, his dark green eyes flashing with cold fire. Fuck it. If Coach wanted to subject him to the Torresi Torture, he was all for it. Maybe that would get his mind off Michelle’s unexplained disappearance.

  “Come on, fess up. What’s your fucking problem?”

  “I don’t have a problem.”

  “Bullshit. You damn near took off Tyler’s head. If you’re going to do shit like that, save it for the game tomorrow night. Now talk.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “No thanks, I’ll pass. And didn’t you get enough the other night with that sweet piece of ass you left with?”

  Jason didn’t think, just curled his fist and slammed it into Zach’s gut. His breath caught on a wheeze and he bent over, clenching his stomach for a long second. Then he sucked in another breath and straightened, his narrowed gaze flashing with anger as he looked at Jason.

  “I hope you fucking hit harder than that during the game.” He bent closer, lowering his voice into a dangerous growl. “And if you ever fucking hit me again, you better plan on a career change because you won’t be able to fucking skate when I’m done with you.”

  “Fuck. Shit.” Jason looked around, wondering if anyone saw what he’d just done, then ran a hand over his chest and turned back to Zach. “Sorry, man. I didn’t mean—fuck. I wasn’t thinking—”

  “No shit. You want to tell me what the fuck that was for?”

  “Nothing. It was—nothing. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Too fucking bad. You’re suddenly taking offense at my word choice? Start talking.”

  Yeah, he had, but he wasn’t about to tell Zach that. He’d look like a fool if he did, especially since it had never bothered him before. He knew Zach, knew the man talked a good game, that his words were always tougher than his actions. But hearing him refer to Michelle as a ‘sweet piece of ass’, as if she was nothing more than some cheap prize, had pissed him off.

  No, it had done more than piss him off. And he didn’t understand why.

  “Well?”

  “Well, what?”

  “Something happen with your sw—with that girl—that royally pissed you off?”

  “She fucking left.”

  “She took off before you got down to business?”

  “No. She took off sometime before I woke up this morning. No word, no note. Nothing. Just…gone.”


  “Whoa. This morning? Like, this morning?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’ve been holed up in some cheap ass fucking motel since Tuesday night?”

  “No. We were at my place.”

  “Wait. You mean to tell me you took her to your apartment? Are you fucking crazy? You don’t do shit like that. That can go so wrong, so fast. What if she turns into some kind of stalker chick?”

  “You’re the only one with those problems.” Probably because of all his stupid social media posts. “And didn’t you hear me? She left. Gone. Disappeared.”

  Zach ran a gloved hand across his face then shrugged. “So what’s the problem?”

  “The problem is she didn’t leave a note. I don’t even have her fucking phone number.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  Why was Jason even bothering to explain? Especially to Zach, the team’s man-whore mascot. He should have known better. He shook his head and tried to skate past him, only to have Zach slide to the side and stop him.

  “Don’t tell me you developed a thing for this girl. Come on, man. You picked her up in a fucking nightclub. You don’t build relationships with chicks like that.”

  “She wasn’t a fucking chick. And yeah, I happened to like her. So what?”

  “Christ.” Zach shook his head and disgust. “You get your dick wet for the first time in months, and now you’re suddenly looking for love.”

  “I am not ‘looking for love’. I happened to like her, that was all. I was hoping we could get together again.”

  “If you’re that hard up, just go back to the nightclub. I’m sure she’ll be back, looking for her next score—”

  “No, man. I don’t think she was like that.” In fact, Jason was damn near one hundred percent positive she wasn’t like that. He sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Zach that, though—he’d pull something from laughing so hard. He was already giving Jason an odd look as it was. Well what the hell did he expect from a guy who seemed to have a new girl every fucking week?

  “Whatever. Listen, it’s not a big deal. You don’t find her, you find someone else who will make sure you forget her. Don’t let the little head make the decisions for the big head. That never works out. Fuck, man. Just look at Harland and the mess he’s in with his baby mama.”