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“I second that.” Mads throws her two cents in.
“Take your time and think about it,” Oakley says, always the voice of reason.
I exhale loudly and rise to my feet. “I need more wine!”
We open two more bottles and polish those off in the next hour. And I blame the alcohol buzz for agreeing to the job before they leave, knowing I can claim temporary insanity if this all blows up in my face over the next few weeks.
Desperate times …
CHAPTER TWELVE
SAM
I slam my stick against the wall and drop onto the bench in front of my locker.
“We won, Anderson.” Ollie chuckles from beside me. “Players are usually happy about that.”
I glare over at him, and he lifts his hands in front of his body in surrender.
“Okay …”
We beat the Avalanche tonight. I even scored a goal, but basically by default. I was standing in front of the net, and the puck ricocheted off me, so I got credit for the slapshot Ollie hit. I also ended up in the bin two times and dropped my gloves when that asshole Robinson from the other team checked me into the wall so hard that my ears were ringing. I retaliated by giving him a shiner that will take a couple of weeks to fade. He’ll remember me every time he looks into the mirror until it’s gone. It was worth it even though I eliminated myself from the rest of the third period by doing it.
The coaches took one look at my angry expression earlier and declared I wasn’t going to do interviews tonight. They didn’t want me to. The last thing I need is to make my already-tarnished reputation even worse with the media. So, they sent me straight into the locker room.
I throw my soiled uniform into the large hamper and hit the showers. I’m one of the first players in and the last out tonight. I want the room to clear out before I dress and leave.
I’ve been spiraling ever since Mads paid me a visit at the arena yesterday. She was so self-righteous as she informed me that she was working PR for the Hawks these days. Straight out of college, and she gets a position with a professional hockey team. I’m sure she got the job because of Ollie. Nepotism at its best. She followed that up with a detailed description of how far in the toilet my reputation is these days, as if I didn’t already know.
Haskas has been trashing me all over the league. And the hockey world is small. You find out just how tiny it is when you mess up. My agent told me a commercial I was in the running for has now fallen through. And two of my sponsors aren’t sure if they want to continue an affiliation with me. But here’s the thing … his daughter came onto me. And I didn’t know who she was when we hooked up. That truth should count for something. Unfortunately, it doesn’t. And people are more interested in the scandal than they are the details.
I walk into the locker room with a towel around my waist. Two of the trainers are still around, collecting equipment and packing it for our next game tomorrow night. And Ollie. He’s fully dressed, sitting and tying one of his shoestrings.
“Are you waiting for me?” I ask with an edge to my tone.
I don’t feel like talking tonight, especially to him. Ollie’s connected to Madison. He’s guilty by association, as far as I’m concerned.
His brows rise when he glances up. “As pleasant as you are to talk to tonight, no, I’m not waiting for you. I had a couple of things to go over with Coach. I’m leaving now.” He rises, grabs his things, but pauses. “Do you need me to wait for you?”
“No,” I grumble, throwing off the towel and dressing.
Ollie irritates me by chuckling.
“Now, you’re pissing me off,” I spit.
His chuckle deepens into a full-blown laugh. He sits on the bench again. “All right … spill it.”
My forehead wrinkles in irritation. “Spill what?”
“Whatever it is that’s crawled up your ass tonight.”
I huff out a breath. “Don’t start with me, Ollie. I don’t need a counseling session. And you’re not the captain of this team.” Yet.
But with the way all the other guys look up to him, you wouldn’t know Ollie isn’t the official captain of the Hawks. He’s a natural-born leader. And he’s a good guy on top of that. It’s annoying as hell.
“You should talk about whatever’s bothering you before you explode. I don’t want you getting kicked out of the game tomorrow. We need you for all three periods.”
I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans and out again, my movements irritated and jerky. “You know exactly what I’m pissed about.”
