Playing To Win (The York Bombers Book 2)

by Lisa B. Kamps

  It was his damn apartment. If he wanted to be pouty, rude, and miserable, he could. And he shouldn’t have to listen to a bunch of shit about it. But Jenny was his sister and he couldn’t exactly kick her out—which meant he had to either listen to her nagging, or just not go home.

  And he didn’t want to go hang out with Zach, not when he kept going to Mystics. Yeah, that was the last place Jason needed—or wanted—to go. Tyler was always busy now, taking off right after practice, doing who knew what. It wasn’t like the goalie to be so damn secretive but what did Jason care? The poor son-of-a-bitch probably had a girlfriend he didn’t want everyone to know about.

  Not that Jason would know anything about that. Hell no. He was happily single. No attachments at all. No interest in anyone.

  And miserable as hell. And a fucking liar. No interest? Yeah, maybe he’d actually believe that if he kept repeating it long enough.

  He caught the puck in his right hand and reached up with his left, grabbing for the necklace that wasn’t there. And shit, he really needed to stop doing that. It had been three weeks since he’d taken the damn thing off. Three weeks since he’d stopped by Mystics and given it back.

  And damn near got stabbed in the process.

  His mouth lifted in a grin at the memory before he realized what he was doing. He forced it from his face and mentally cursed himself. What the hell kind of fucking moron would grin about almost being stabbed?

  Apparently him.

  And no, it hadn’t been funny at the time. Hell, it shouldn’t be funny now. But he couldn’t help the small feeling of pride when he realized Megan was more than capable of taking care of herself. She’d definitely come up swinging, not afraid to go on the offensive. Well, what the hell had he expected? Her father had been a damn cop. Of course she knew how to take care of herself.

  That was a good thing, he guessed. Especially since—according to Zach, anyway—she was finally working the bar like she wanted. Which meant she was staying late on the weekends, closing up by herself. Yeah, it was a good thing she could take care of herself. Although she was probably safe—he doubted her father would let her put herself in harm’s way.

  And then he remembered the look on her face that afternoon three weeks ago, when she realized it was him. When she realized she had come close to stabbing him with that stupid screwdriver. The color had drained from her face and for a brief second, she had looked like she was going to be sick. That part wasn’t so funny.

  And why the hell was he standing here, thinking about Megan? He shouldn’t be. But that right there was the whole problem: he couldn’t stop thinking about her. No matter what he did, he couldn’t stop.

  And that was why he was pouty and rude and miserable. That was why he was standing here on the ice after practice, watching Harland shoot puck after puck into the net instead of going home. Instead of hanging with Zach. Instead of giving Tyler shit for being so secretive.

  “Don’t you have someplace to be?”

  Jason looked up, watched as Harland skated over to him and removed his helmet. His brown hair was black with sweat, his face red with exertion as sweat rolled down his temples along his jaw.

  Jason shook his head and went back to tossing the puck from hand to hand.

  “Nope. Not like you do.”

  “Trust me. I’m ready to go home.” A grin lifted the corners of Harland’s mouth. He’d been grinning a lot lately, ever since he’d spilled his guts to Courtney. They were already talking about getting married. Jason thought that maybe they were rushing into things but what the hell did he know?

  “If you’re ready to go home, what the hell are you doing here?”

  “Just wanted to get in some extra shooting time. Work on my game.”

  “Your game is fine. Now, anyway.”

  “You can never practice too much.”

  Jason caught the puck and stared at it, trying to hide his surprise at Harland’s words. He’d changed since the Banners sent him down last season. A lot.

  “Think you’ll go back?” Jason didn’t have to explain the question, Harland knew exactly what he meant.

  The other man shrugged, not quite able to hide the shadow that flashed across his eyes. “Probably not. Sometimes you screw things up so bad, there’s no fixing them.”

  “And you’re okay with that?”

  “I have Courtney. And Noah. They’re the two most important things in my world and I wouldn’t change that for anything. So yeah, I’m okay with it.” Harland lifted the hem of his jersey and wiped the sweat from his face. “What about you?”

  “Me?” Jason laughed, the sound hollow. “I’ve been called up exactly twice. For a week at a time. And that was early last year. I’m not going to hold my breath.”

  “That’s not what I was talking about.”

  “Then what?”

  “I’m talking about that girl you keep thinking about.”

  Jason looked away, his fingers curling around the puck. “There is no girl.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Harland leaned over the boards, grabbed a bottle of water and took several long swigs. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth then turned toward Jason. “That’s why you’ve been so fucking miserable. I may not go out with you guys much anymore, but that doesn’t mean I don’t hear what’s going on.”

  “Yeah? And what do you hear?”

  “Everything.”

  Jason grunted. “Somehow I doubt that.”

  “You picked her up at some nightclub without recognizing her. She disappeared on you. You went nuts trying to find her. Saw her at Mystics. Didn’t recognize her. Made an ass of yourself. Talked her into going out. Made an ass of yourself again. Did something to screw up and now you’ve been a miserable son-of-a-bitch ever since then. How’s that? Did I come close?”

  “Fuck you.” Close? Better than close. Damn if Jason was going to admit it, though.

  “Yeah, thought so.”

  “It’s just…” Jason let the words trail off, not quite able to believe he’d been about to discuss this with Harland. He didn’t want to discuss anything about it, with anyone.

  “Just what?”

  “I don’t know.” Jason looked down at the puck in his hand, not really seeing it. No, he was seeing deep brown eyes and full lips curled in a smile. “I just…I know it sounds stupid and all but I thought we had really connected, you know? I’ve never felt that way with another girl before. And I thought…never mind, it’s stupid.”

  “Thought what?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Do you love her?”

  Jason’s head spun around so fast his neck cracked. He stared at Harland, his mouth open in shock, then quickly shook his head. “No. Hell no. Too soon, we don’t know each other that well.”

  “Sometimes it happens. Hell, I knew I loved Courtney the first time I met her. And I was nine.”

  “Yeah, well, we’re not all as special as you.”

  “Special?” Harland shook his head, a dreamy look in his eyes that surprised Jason. “Not me. Courtney’s the special one.”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Could you?”

  “Could I what?”

  “Love her.”

  “Now you’re just talking crazy. Not everyone’s like you, Day-glo.”

  “Am I? Or are you just afraid to admit it?”

  “There’s nothing to admit.” Jason didn’t miss the disbelief—or the disappointment—in Harland’s eyes when he shook his head.

  “You know, I told her you weren’t worth the heartache.”

  “What the hell did you say?”

  “You heard me. I told her you weren’t worth the heartache.”

  Jason’s hand curled into a fist. “When the hell did you tell her that? And why?”

  “A few months ago when we were all at Mystics. Before you got with her. As to why—because of the way she was looking at you.”

  “The way she was looking at me?”

  “Yeah. It was the same expressio
n on your stupid face the night she came to the game and you kept looking into the stands.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Jason tried to shrug it off, tried to pretend Harland’s words hadn’t caused his heart to slam against his chest. “It doesn’t matter now, anyway.”

  “Doesn’t it?”

  “No, it doesn’t. In case you hadn’t heard, it didn’t work out. Remember? It’s too late.”

  “It’s never too late. Not unless you want it to be. Not unless you talk yourself into it.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “I almost blew it with Courtney all those years ago. No, I did blow it with her. Because I was a stupid mother fucker who didn’t believe in what he was feeling, in what he had. Because I let someone talk me out of it. And I missed so much because of it. I missed Courtney carrying my child. I missed Noah being born. I missed his first smile and his first tooth and his first step.” Harland let out a ragged breath and took another swallow of water.

  He capped the bottle, moved a little closer to Jason, something flaring in his eyes. “I missed so fucking much. And I’ll never get those moments back. Never. And it was all because I didn’t believe in what I was feeling, didn’t believe in possibilities.”

  Jason looked away, Harland’s emotional speech tugging at something in him, something he didn’t want to examine too closely. But that was Harland. What he had with Courtney, that was different. Special. Meant to be. It wasn’t the same.

  Couldn’t be the same.

  “We’re not all as lucky as you.”

  “Luck.” Harland laughed, the sound short and filled with disbelief. “Yeah, I am lucky, and I count my blessings every damn day. But luck isn’t why I’m with Courtney. I’m with Courtney because I finally let go and took a chance because she was worth it. Because we were worth it.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “All I’m saying is, if you like Megan, then go for it. If you think she’s someone you could fall in love with, then fight for it. You play to win, all the time. Why is this time any different? Don’t just fucking give up and walk away because if you do, you’ll regret it. If you do, you could be missing out on shit you’ll never get back.”

  Jason looked away, not sure what to say. Not sure if there was anything to say. Did he like Megan? Yeah. Could he love her? He didn’t answer that question, was too afraid to answer it. Then he realized he didn’t have to answer it, not when all he could think about was her smile, her laugh, the way her eyes lit up. The way she carried herself, how comfortable she was as her own person, how she knew what she wanted.

  Not when he realized he hadn’t stopped thinking about her, not once since that night at Calypso’s.

  No, he didn’t have to answer it, not when the answer was right there in front of him.

  He turned, ready to tell Harland he wasn’t sure how to do any of that shit he suggested. But it was too late. Harland was gone already, leaving him standing there by himself.

  Leaving him alone with nothing but his thoughts, and the worry that maybe this was one time he couldn’t win.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “You look like hell.”

  Megan didn’t even bother to turn around and look at Haley. She didn’t feel like getting into it with her again. And she didn’t have time.

  It seemed like she never had time anymore.

  Well, what had she expected? She had gotten exactly what she asked for: the chance to spend more time at the bar. The chance to take more control of things, to take charge and run things. At least, on a temporary basis, to see how she did.

  And for the most part, she was doing well. For now. Except she was always tired, always worried about what the next day would bring.

  And always busy. Busy was a good thing. Busy kept her mind occupied. Busy kept her from thinking too much. It even kept her from feeling too much.

  Usually.

  She wiped a hand across her forehead, brushing the hair from her eyes as she tried to focus on the order slip that had just spit out from the small terminal attached to the restaurant. She squinted, leaning closer, trying to read the small print in the dim light.

  Okay, three Chardonnays and a bottle of Yuengling. She could handle that. She grabbed three glasses from the overhead rack then moved to the small wine refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of Chardonnay. And damn, there was barely enough for one glass.

  Muttering under her breath, she pulled a fresh bottle and fought with the cork, whacked her elbow against the wall when she pulled it too hard. Wine splashed from the bottle and onto her shirt, leaving a wet splotch on the fabric.

  She muttered again and moved to the serving tray, filling each glass and knocking one over in the process.

  “Dammit!”

  Haley stepped behind the bar and gently nudged her out of the way, taking over.

  “I can do it.”

  “I know. But you need a break.”

  “I don’t need a break. I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. You haven’t been since he walked in.” Haley shot her a sympathetic glance then finished topping off the glasses.

  He, of course, was Jason. And she still couldn’t believe he was here. He hadn’t come here once, not since that day he’d given her that stupid necklace back. The rest of the Bombers had come in, just like they usually did—but not Jason. At first she’d been glad. She didn’t want to see him, was afraid of how she might react if she saw him.

  And then she’d been disappointed—which didn’t make any sense. Why should she be disappointed? She didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to see girls flock around him, didn’t want to be reminded of…well, of whatever it was that had been going on with them. She still didn’t know what it had been, didn’t understand why she felt like she’d lost something, didn’t understand why it felt like she was missing something.

  Stupid. So stupid. It wasn’t like she had something to be missed so none of those feelings made sense.

  That didn’t make it any easier to deal with.

  And now he was here and she didn’t know what to do, how to act. She tried to ignore him, tried to pretend it was just business as usual. That should have been easy enough, considering how busy they were tonight. But she could feel someone’s eyes on her and every time she looked up, she noticed Jason sitting at the table in the corner.

  Watching her.

  Not talking to anyone, not paying any attention to anyone else. Just watching her. And the last time she had looked over, he actually smiled at her.

  And she had dropped the beer bottle she had just uncapped. It crashed to the floor and shattered, covering her jeans with beer.

  She smelled like a brewery. And she probably looked like a homeless wino, with her frazzled hair and beer-soaked jeans. Oh, and let’s not forget to add the wine-stained shirt to the list now, too.

  “Megan, I’m serious. Why don’t you go in the back and take a break?” Haley jammed the cork back into the bottle and leaned over to place it in the refrigerator.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine. You look pale. And tired.”

  “Look who’s talking.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m not the only who’s pale.” Megan reached out and grabbed Haley’s arm, yanked her sleeve up before she could pull away. Bruises covered her forearm, some old, some fresh. Yellow and purple and black, each one the shape of a finger. “What about these?”

  Haley yanked her arm from Megan’s grasp and pulled the sleeve down. “They’re nothing. Stop worrying about it.”

  “Haley, they’re not ‘nothing’. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. I told you, we just get a little rough in bed. That’s all.” But Haley wouldn’t look at her and Megan knew she was lying. But why? What was going on with her friend? Megan was afraid she knew, no matter how much she didn’t want to believe it. Haley would never let someone touch her, hurt her. So why was she hiding it? Why was she lying about it?


  “Haley, talk to me.”

  She shook her head and grabbed the serving tray, hoisting it up to her shoulder. “Nothing to talk about. I’ll run these over. Can you pour me two pitchers? And I need a few more cups.”

  “Yeah. For what table? I’ll take them over.”

  “No, I’ll get them.”

  “I can take them over, just let me know—”

  “I said I’ll do it.” Haley gave her a pointed look then slid her gaze to somewhere behind Megan. She didn’t have to turn around to see where Haley was looking. The beer was for the table in the corner.

  Jason’s table.

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, ‘oh’. Just give me a sec and I’ll run them over.”

  Megan nodded and grabbed two fresh pitchers from the back shelf then carried them over to the tap, filling each. She placed them on another tray then grabbed several glasses and sat them next to the pitchers.

  Then she stood there, ignoring the laughter and loud talking and music, and stared at the tray.

  Had it come to this? Is this what she had to look forward to now? Hiding behind the bar and letting someone else do work she would normally do with no problems? It was what they all did. If the servers were busy, the bartenders carried the drinks to the table. It wasn’t a big deal.

  It shouldn’t be a big deal.

  So why was she standing there staring at the tray like it was going to jump to life and reach out to smack her? Why was she afraid to do her job? To pick up the tray and carry it over there, just like she would do any other night, for any other table?

  She didn’t stop to think, didn’t stop to question. She picked up the tray, readjusted everything so it would be better balanced, then hoisted it over her shoulder. This wasn’t a big deal.

  She kept repeating that as she walked around the bar and crossed the room, dodging the crowd of people as she made her way to the corner table.

  Conversation drifted to a stop as she approached, making her reconsider the wisdom of bringing it over here. She glanced down, noticed everyone looking at her—then turning to look at Jason.

  Megan plastered a bright smile on her face and carefully lowered the tray to the table. “Two pitchers of beer, just like you ordered.” She picked up one pitcher and placed it as close to the middle as she could get it, then reached for the second one.