Page 89 of Her Game Plan

“Callan?” Beckett calls, wandering in to find me staring at the bowl of the sugary goodness. “Dude, what the fuck are you wearing?”

I finally pull my gaze from the brightly colored treats to look down at my jersey. “Oh this? Wanted to support the Yeti. Should we take a picture together and send it to Larsen?” I pull out my phone.

Beckett raises his hands as if to force me away. “God, no. He’d never stop talking about it.”

“I haven’t seen too many games, but it sounds like he’s having a hell of a season.” I guess I’ll have a chance to find out now that my season is over.

He sighs. “As happy as I am for Queenie, the kid has become almost unbearable.”

“And by unbearable, you mean you’re still having dinner with him and Li on a regular basis?” I find his friendship with the two younger guys hilarious. Truly brings me joy, which is something I need more of. Now that the light is gone from my life.

Fuck. When did I start thinking about Charlotte as the light of my fucking life?

Beckett pulls me from my thoughts. “We went out for sushi the other night. He made the chef tell him a fucking novel about how he became a sushi chef, where he gets his fish from since there isn’t an ocean in Colorado, what the most popular fish are, and the most expensive. I almost left.”

I snort. “You did not. And Li probably pulled out his phone and took notes in case he was ever quizzed on sushi.”

“Callan?” The front door slams, and then Jameson walks into the kitchen, followed by Nate Riley.

I shake each of their hands, pulling them into a one-armed hug.

“Tough loss yesterday,” Nate offers.

I nod. “Heard you got a triple-double, though.”

“I’ve been lucky lately.” He tugs on his long beard.

From anyone else, I would think they’re trying to be humble. But with Nate, the man means that. He’s one of the most superstitious people I’ve ever met. Barely cuts his hair and his beard for just that reason.

We head downstairs, where Pitty joins us a few minutes later. I deal the first hand, and have barely looked at my hand when Pitt asks, “Are the rumors true?”

“What rumors?” I ask, knowing from the tone of his voice that he means the ones about me being traded. But if there is even a slight chance that’s not what he’s talking about, I’ll take it.

He taps his cards together on the table before placing them face down. Okay, I guess we’re doing this. “The ones about you being traded. What the actual fuck, man? Why wouldn’t you tell us?”

I set my cards down, too. Guess we aren’t doing a chill poker night to distract me from the shitstorm that is my life these days. “Jon hasn’t had anything official come across his desk. But yeah, we’ve heard the rumors, too.”

The expressions around the table range from Beckett’s mild amusement to Nate’s shock to Pitt’s annoyance.

“And what does your girlfriend have to say about it?” Pitty asks when I don’t offer any more information. After a long pause, in which they all stare at me, he smacks the table. “Oh shit. Is that what was going on this weekend? Did you two break up over this? Is that why you suddenly decided that you needed your own row and your own room? Everyone was saying it was because you didn’t want to tire yourself out.”

Nate looks at me, his jaw hanging low. “You changed up your fucking routine? Do you know how unlucky that can be?”

Choosing to ignore Nate, I tell Pitt, “It’s not that dramatic.” Or maybe it’s more dramatic than that.

“I need more information,” Pitt declares. “Is she trading you because you broke up? Fuck that’s vindictive. Probably illegal, too.”

“It’s definitely not that. We aren’t on the same page anymore. It’s not that big of a deal.” I shrug, trying to show just how not big of a deal it is.

“Nope.” Pitt shakes his head. “Now I know it’s a huge fucking deal. What happened?”

Beckett stands from the table. “I’m going to go get a snack. But”—he looks at the three other men there—“maybe you should bring these guys up to speed on this whole shitshow you’ve gotten yourself entangled in.”

I consider it. I know my relationship with Charlotte needs to stay a secret, but I trust these men. My team may have been the people who pulled me back from the edge of losing myself, but these guys, they’re the ones who helped me build a solid foundation that my life now sits on.

So, I tell them. About the fake dating, Charlotte’s dad, and moving in together. And then I tell them about how it started to feel real. Like we were actually dating, actually living together.

“Because you are actually dating, actually living together,” Jameson observes. “You might not be calling it that. But what you’re describing? That’s a real relationship. Trust me.”