Lainey frowned. “Coop? Are you okay? You’re acting weird all of a sudden.”
“What? Yeah.” He shook his head to clear the fuzzy feeling. “I’m fine. I gotta go. The car service is here.”
“Okay. Have a safe flight. And good luck tomorrow night. I know you guys can beat the Blades.” She planted a kiss on his cheek. “And thanks again for the tickets.”
Cooper vaguely remembered nodding as he walked to the foyer, grabbed his suitcase and headed down to meet his driver.
17
LAINEY WAS IN the mood to celebrate.
At least she had been.
Now that two in the morning had come and gone, sleep was sounding much better than the cupcakes she’d picked up from Icing on her way over to Cooper’s place to wait for him to get home. The offer of the playoff tickets had been a success, and her Realtor had set up a meeting with Bashir to finalize the sale of The Drunken Sportsman two days from now, and she couldn’t wait to thank Coop properly for all he’d done to help her accomplish it.
The team was taking a red-eye charter flight back from Milwaukee after the game, which they’d won 1-0 according to her quick Google search. She’d been confident in her ability to stay up and greet him when he came through the door. And she still could, she decided, turning down the volume on the television and burrowing into the corner of Cooper’s massive leather couch with the comforter she’d pulled off the bed. She just needed a quick nap first, she told herself as her eyes drifted shut.
Lainey started as the door slammed followed by the sound of someone stumbling into the condo.
Adrenaline had her on her feet in the ultimate show of fight or flight, until Cooper’s familiar form became visible in the flickering light of the big-screen TV. Heart thundering, Lainey exhaled with relief. “Oh, my God, Slick. You scared me half to death.”
“Lainey?”
“You were expecting someone else?”
His smile was a little off-kilter as he came fully into the living room. “You’re funny. And really pretty. Have I told you how funny and really pretty you are?”
The compliment seemed sincere, but Lainey frowned all the same. Something was wrong. Cooper was slurring his words, banging around like he was drunk, but there was no way the team had provided booze on the charter plane in the middle of playoffs.
She reached over and flicked on the floor lamp beside the couch, and Cooper winced at the light as she took in his rumpled appearance—his tie askew, his hair sweaty.
“Are you okay, Cooper?”
His emphatic nod threw him off balance and Lainey lunged forward to steady him.
“Maybe you should sit down. That’s right.” She managed to get him to the couch.
“I’m better than okay,” he assured her, but though his voice sounded steadier, the ten seconds that had passed between his answer and when she’d asked the question made her doubt the statement. He didn’t even sit like the Cooper Mead she knew, all slumped over, with none of the cocky self-assurance that made him the force to be reckoned with that he usually was.
Lainey plucked her phone off the coffee table and dialed.
The phone rang three times, four, five.
“Oh, you’d better pick up, you little—”
“Look, if you’re calling to yell at me more about the bar, I’m—”
“What the hell happened to Coop?”
Brett’s sigh whooshed through her earpiece. “Geez, Lainey. If you’re going to date the guy, the least you can do is tune into the games. He was a hero tonight! Seriously, he dove—I’m talking full-on Superman—when Mack got caught out of his net and blocked this puck with his head in the dying seconds of the game and saved us from OT and possible elimination and—”
“He took a puck to the head?” Lainey reached over with her free hand, inspecting Cooper’s hairline for a contusion, as he half-heartedly batted at her arm like he was shooing away a bothersome fly.
“Just the helmet. It was so awesome. The replay is all over the news.”
“Was he acting weird at all on the plane today?”
“Nah. We watched some Game of Thrones on the flight. Said he had a bit of a headache, but other than that he seemed good. Why?”
“It’s...” Lainey was on the verge of telling him, but caught herself short. Brett had proven she couldn’t trust him, and even if she did trust him, her stupid brother wasn’t known for his discretion. And if she was wrong... “I’m sure it’s nothing. I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Sure.” There was a pause. “I’m glad you’re still talking to me. Catch you later.”
Lainey dropped the phone on the couch as she knelt in front of Coop.
“Cooper? I need you to look at me, okay?”
He turned his face toward her, but it was like he was staring through her, not at her.
“Cooper?”
He squeezed his eyes shut for a second before opening them again, and this time, Lainey felt the connection when he looked at her. His pupils didn’t look wildly different in size.
“I’m fine. I’m... I got a headache on the plane. I’ll be okay if I lie down.”
“I’m going to call the hospital. You might have a concussion.”
The word sobered him instantly. “I’m fine. No hospitals.”
“You’re not fine.”
“Lainey, I played great tonight. We won because of me. The team needs me. If you call the doctor, my season’s over. And I’m fine. Honestly. I’m tired is all.” He sounded more like himself, but his words still seemed a bit slower than normal.
“What’s your agent’s name?”
“I fired that guy.”
“What’s his name, Cooper?”
“Gared Jolden.” Coop’s face screwed up with concentration. “No. Jared. Jared Golden.” He overenunciated each syllable.
“Give me your phone.”
Cooper fumbled with his suit jacket until he managed to produce his iPhone.
Lainey snatched it. “What’s the passcode?”
“Huh?”
She held it out to him. “Punch in the passcode.”
He punched in the number one four times in a row. When the screen unlocked, Lainey felt a wave of relief wash over her. He’d gotten the password on the first try. It might be simple—another consequence of his dyslexia, no doubt—but he’d remembered it, and she hoped that was a good sign, because she needed one right now, to keep her moving through the worry.
He looked up at her with puppy-dog eyes. “You’re not gonna erase the video, are you?”
“What?”
“The video you made me. I didn’t show it to anyone, Lainey, I swear. I would never do that. Please don’t erase it, okay?”
“I won’t erase it as long as you promise you’ll stay here on the couch while I make this call, okay?” She scrolled through his contact list until she got to “J” and hit the phone icon.
“I won’t go anywhere,” Cooper promised solemnly as the call connected.
“I knew you’d come crawling back. And I’m willing to forgive you, Mead, because you were a fucking warrior out there tonight! My phone’s been ringing off the hook, dude. PWR Athletics is kicking themselves that they let you go. They’ve called twice but I haven’t answered yet. They’re not only going to have to beg, they’re going to have to pony up so much fucking bank that—”
“This isn’t Cooper.”
“Then who the fuck am I talking to?”
“It’s Lainey Harper.”
“The chick who scored on her own net. Yeah, I heard of you. I told Mead to dump your ass, but—”
“I think Cooper’s got a concussion.”
As it had with Cooper, the “C” bomb detonated with a cloud of utter silence.
Then,
after a moment, Jared asked, “Who else knows about this?”
“No one, but I think he needs to go to the hospital.”
“No! Nobody hears about this unless I okay it. This kind of thing can end a career, not just a season. Everybody’s on edge about this shit right now. Are you with him?”
“Yeah. We’re at his place, but—”
“Stay there. I’ll send over a doctor. Do not answer the phone unless it’s me, you got it?”
“I think—”
“Don’t think. Just do what I tell you. When the doctor gets there, you need to get him up to the penthouse without any questions from the doorman, got it?”
She chafed at the order, but a quick glance at Cooper and his rumpled suit, the fear in his eyes when she’d mentioned the hospital, made her swallow her graphic suggestion of where Jared Golden could shove his attitude. She huffed instead. “This guy you’re sending has a real medical degree, right? From an accredited school?”
“He’s real. A Harvard grad. I know you’re worried about Cooper, but this is a critical time in his career. We are in code red damage control right now. His performance tonight rejuvenated his stock. If he signs with me again, we could get PWR back.”
Her hand squeezed the phone, trying to become a fist. “He might have brain damage, and you’re making this all about money!”
“Lainey...it is Lainey, isn’t it? I’m gonna let you in on the hard truth about professional sports—everything is about money.”
It was a pleasure to hang up on the man.
Cooper seemed more lucid by the time Lainey had ushered the alleged Dr. Howard up to the suite.
He did some basic prodding and poking, checked Cooper’s pupils with the flashlight on his goddamn key ring, asked a bunch of useless questions and declared that number sixteen was cleared to play before making a quick exit.
Lainey still wanted to take him to a real hospital, but Cooper insisted he was fine, and he seemed more like himself after he’d undressed and crawled into bed, assuring her that sleep was all he needed.
Lainey spent the rest of the night wide-awake, monitoring him for all the signs and symptoms of concussions that she’d found on the internet.
* * *
LAINEY HAD NO idea when she’d fallen asleep, but Cooper was gone when she woke up.
She winced at the kink in her neck, massaging it as she searched the bedding for her phone. She finally found it on the floor, and the screen informed her it was almost half past noon. She tried Cooper’s phone, but the call went straight to voice mail.
She took a shower, made herself some toast and coffee, tried to distract herself with TV and gossip blogs, but nothing helped. She was acutely aware of every minute that ticked by until she heard Cooper’s key in the lock, an hour and twenty-seven minutes later.
The sound was her cue.
She flicked the television off. And with a deep breath, she stood, squared her shoulders and prepared for battle.
“Hey.” The word was noncommittal, but Lainey heard the faint note of surprise in Cooper’s voice. He hadn’t expected her to stay.
“You were gone when I woke up.” It was an inane thing to say. Obvious. But Lainey couldn’t bring herself to go with the stereotypically trite, “Where the hell have you been?” Especially since she knew the answer. He’d gone to the only place a hockey player one day away from the biggest game of his career would go.
“I went to practice. Reviewed some game tape. Had an easy skate.”
She pushed down a scream so her voice would be level. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“It was fine. I feel fine.” Cooper shot her a reassuring smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I hurt my brain, Lainey. Not something important, like a knee or a shoulder.”
“Don’t.” The word cracked like a whip, and the dam of polite formality sprang a leak.
“It was a joke.” His tone held the promise of bite, like a muzzled dog.
“Well, it wasn’t funny. Don’t put yourself down like that. You’re not stupid. You have dyslexia.”
“People treat you the same either way, so what’s the difference?”
Lainey took a desperate step toward him. “You’re worried about being stupid? Stupid is putting your health at risk for a game! A game that takes everything from you and gives nothing back.”
“You don’t get it, do you? This is what I’m good at, Lainey. Hockey. That’s it. And once it’s gone, I have nothing left.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “I can’t do what other retired hockey players do. I can’t be a commentator or an analyst, because I can’t read fast enough to keep up with the teleprompter. My future has ‘washed-up has-been’ written all over it.”
“That’s not true!”
“It is true.” His voice was frighteningly matter-of-fact. “I know you think hockey ruined your life, but it saved mine. It saved me from feeling like an idiot. It saved me from being bullied. It gave me a future when school couldn’t. And I can’t believe you’re so selfish that you want me to give it up, because you did.”
Her eyes narrowed at the attack. “This has nothing to do with me.”
“I’m closer to winning a championship than I’ve ever been in my career, and sponsors have dropped me anyway! That’s what being an athlete is—your fate can change in an instant.”
“You think I don’t know that?” she cried. “Me?”
“Then you understand that I need to play tomorrow.”
“Even if it means you can never play again?”
Cooper shook his head with a dismissive scoff. “Stop being melodramatic. It’s one game, Lainey. Nothing’s going to happen.”
“That’s exactly what you thought before that puck hit you.”
She saw him disengage, retreat inside. The subtle shift from offense to defense as he pulled back from her.
“Cooper, listen to me.” She held up her right forearm, so he could see her scar. “You’ve seen how much my wrist still affects my life. We’re talking about your brain. One rogue puck, one bad hit—hell, one good hit—and forget not being able to play again, you might never walk again! You could lose your ability to speak, or to feed yourself. You need to find out how bad it is, and you need to give yourself time to heal. Please, I’m begging you. Get this looked at.”
“I did. The doc said I’m fine.”
“You know damn well that I mean by a doctor in a real hospital with equipment that’s more high-tech than a key-chain flashlight.” He was still standing in the same spot, but he was farther away than ever, and his distance frustrated her. “If you’re so confident in his diagnosis, why don’t you call the team doctors? Let them clear you instead of some guy being paid off by that scumbag Golden to make sketchy house calls in the middle of the night.”
“Why do you even care?” The earnestness of the question was a slap in the face. The fact that he could ask her that, the fact that he didn’t know.
“Why do I care? Cooper, I’m in love with you.” Lainey’s stomach dropped with that exhilarating free fall of roller coasters and big declarations. She was in love with Cooper Mead. She placed a hand on his forearm, eyes pleading. “And I’m asking you, if you care about me at all, not to play until you’ve been cleared.”
“Oh, you love me now?” he jeered, shaking off her grip, and Lainey’s bubble of pure, emotional honesty burst at the sharp sting of his words. “I’m not willing to give up everything for our ‘magical’ future, so now you love me?”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means what future, Lainey? You think I gave you those tickets so you could sell the bar? So you could leave? I gave them to you because I wanted you there, at the most important moment of my life. You’ve been trying to get out of here since the day we met. So focused on your plan. Sell the bar. Go
hide out in your fancy hotel rooms. All you’ve wanted was to get your life back on track. But you’ve made it so there’s no room for me in that life unless I give up my dream.”
Lainey steeled her spine as he continued the unrelenting attack. “Now you’re playing dirty. I didn’t ask you to give up hockey to come with me.”
“You didn’t ask me anything. You’ve never considered me at all while making your decisions.”
Her chin quivered, but she wrestled the sadness, stayed in control. She’d known from that first night that Cooper was temporary. That they would never make it long-term. “If that’s the way you feel, then maybe I should go.”
Cooper’s nod was like a dagger in her heart. “Yeah, maybe that’s for the best.”
And that was what Lainey told herself as she pulled the door shut behind her and headed for the elevator. That it was for the best.
18
“YOU HAVE MY TICKETS?”
Lainey stared at the man across from her. Allan Bashir was like a genie in a business suit, set to grant her wish with the stroke of his pen on the contract that sat on the desk between them. She held up the tickets in her hand.
The ones Cooper had given her, the ones that had represented so much more to him than a couple of seats in a packed arena. But she’d been too stupid to see it. Too scared to understand the meaning behind the gesture.
“Then I guess we have a deal, Ms. Harper.” He signed his name with fluid precision before he spun the contract on the desk and pushed it toward Lainey, holding the expensive pen in her direction.
What the hell was she doing?
She’d told Cooper she loved him, but as soon as things got uncomfortable, she’d started running away. Like he’d said, there was no room for him in the life she led, traveling around from hotel room to hotel room. But if she stayed...
The thought didn’t scare her anymore. Because somehow, over the last few months, it wasn’t her dad’s bar anymore. The Drunken Sportsman had become hers.
Playing Dirty Page 17