47
Nash
I was nervous about the game in a way I hadn’t been since I was a kid. And it didn’t help that my performance tonight could literally change the rest of my life.
Hockey had always been fun. It was a competition, of course, and I hated to lose, but the game itself? I craved it like an addict. Nothing else in the world compared to the feeling of flying down the ice, stick on the puck, the whole arena holding its breath, waiting for what I’d do next.
But now, with the Josh drama circling and the threat of losing the career I’d worked for all my life, my stomach was in knots and my mind was reeling.
“Nash.”
I turned to see Kennedy leaning against the bedroom doorframe, her expression mirroring the storm inside me.
“I know you’re worried,” she said softly, “but don’t be. Please. Just go out there and play the game you love.”
I sighed, wishing it were that easy.
“Look at it like this,” she said, crossing the room toward me. “If this is your last game . . .”
My stomach twisted, but she quickly added, “Which I don’t believe for a second. But for argument’s sake, let’s just say it is.”
“Okay.” I gave her a wary look, praying she knew where she was going with this pep talk, because so far it wasn’t helping.
Her lips curved into the faintest smile. “If this is it, don’t you want to enjoy it? Don’t you want to go out there, play the best game of your life, and give the fans what they want?”
All right . . . she was doing better. I nodded slowly. Yeah. That made sense.
“You play your best when you let go of everything around you and just play, Nash. I know there’s a lot of shit going on around us, but please—just try. Go have fun.”
That was putting it lightly, but she was right. God, she was right. I desperately wanted to have the best game of my life, and maybe that was the problem. I’d piled so much pressure on myself to succeed that it felt like I was suffocating under it.
“I’d love to let it all go,” I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck. “Believe me. I’m just not sure I can.”
“I don’t know either, Nash.” Kennedy’s eyes looked sad as she stared up at me. She tried so hard to be brave, and I knew that if she could, she’d fix this whole mess for me. That was just the way she was. But she couldn’t. This was on me. I was the only one who could save this.
Her small hands fisted into my shirt, making me focus on her.
“I just want you to play for you,” she whispered. “Not for management, not for me, and not for anyone putting pressure on you. Play because you love it, Nash. Play because you want to.”
Damn. She really did get me, and I’d needed to hear that. I loved her so damn much it hurt.
“I’ll try, babe. I promise.”
Her lips curved into that smile that made her whole face light up, until it looked like she glowed from within.
“I’ll be in the stands cheering for you,” she said softly. “No matter what. Okay?”
“Okay. You better be my good-luck charm, because I’m gonna need you.”
“Always.”
My nerves were strung super thin once I hit the ice, and it showed.
I made a couple of stupid mistakes early on, bad passes I never should’ve made, and we were down by one goal after the first period.
Josh tried his best to get under my skin, smirking, taunting me, and throwing around cheap comments about the “rookie mistakes” I’d made.
It was aggravating as fuck, but I’d promised myself I wouldn’t bite.
No matter what happened, I wasn’t stooping to his level.
If it all ended after this, at least I’d be the classier athlete.
“Shake it off, man,” Mitchell said, smacking me on the ass as we headed back to the ice. “Play for that girl of yours. And don’t forget—your future brother-in-law’s here. You don’t wanna look like a failure in front of him.”
“Shut up, Mitch. I’ve known Jackson my whole life.”
“Just saying . . .” His grin was infuriatingly wide. “He might think she should go for a better man. You know, like a defensive player with blond hair.”
I gave him a hard slap in return. “Dude. What the fuck? Find your own girl.”
I hit the ice for the second period with Mitch’s laughter echoing behind me, and for a second, everything felt normal again.
I managed to get my stick on one of Mitchell’s passes early in the second period, and it was enough to even the score.
The roar that ripped through the arena was deafening, the kind of sound that reverberated within you.
Mitchell barreled into me right after the puck hit the back of the net, yelling, “Fuck yeah! That’s how you do it!
” Bryce was next, followed by Larsson and Anderson. But no Josh.
I glanced up into the stands just long enough to see Kennedy and Sammy jumping up and down beside a grinning Jackson. My parents were also on their feet, cheering like they’d just won the damn lottery. It felt so fucking good, I had to blink hard to keep the tears from pricking my eyes.
Josh missed a wide-open shot at the end of the period.
He slammed his stick onto the ice, breaking it, then threw his water bottle across the bench like he was having a temper tantrum.
As tempting as it was to give him a taste of his own medicine, I used every ounce of self-control I had, pretending he didn’t exist.
We won the game in the end, but it wasn’t pretty.
“The coaches weren’t happy with Josh’s play today,” Mitchell muttered as we headed for the exit after the win.
“It wasn’t one of his best games, that’s for sure,” I agreed, just happy that it wasn’t me they were upset with for once.
“Yeah, and his behavior didn’t help. Bryce said the coaches gave him a stern talking-to. Apparently, they got called up to the owner’s suite after the game.”
“How the hell does Bryce always find this shit out?” I asked Mitch. “You’re telling me nobody ever sees him eavesdropping? The guy’s bigger than all of us. What is he, the invisible man or something?”
Mitch snorted.
“I’m serious, I don’t get it. I never hear half the shit he does. Do you?”
“Uh, no . . .”
Bryce appeared out of nowhere, and Mitchell burst out laughing. “Damn, Nash, you’re fucking right. He’s like some kind of ghost that just materializes.”
“What’d I miss?” Bryce rumbled, his deep voice laced with amusement, matching that smug grin he always wore.
“Nothing really,” Mitchell said, still chuckling. “We were just amazed at how you know everything before anyone else. Nobody else hears half the stuff you do.”
Bryce waved a hand, unbothered. “You just gotta know where to pay attention.”
I wasn’t sure that was the full truth, but I was too invested in finding out what had happened with Josh to care. “What did they say?” I asked. “What’s the story about Sampson?”
Bryce’s grin faded as he shifted into business mode. “From what I’ve pieced together, Sampson knew about you back in college, before you were drafted. Something about his girlfriend cheating on him with you.”
The groan tore out of me before I could stop it. “Was her name Julia, by any chance?”
Bryce’s brows shot up. “Yeah. What the hell, Nash? Did you know she was cheating?”
“No.” I shook my head slowly. “I had no idea. But it makes so much fucking sense now. She knew who I was.”
“So did half the girls on campus,” Mitch said dryly.
He wasn’t wrong.
“We spent a weekend together,” I explained. “She told me she had an ex who played hockey, and then, after I broke it off, she lied about being pregnant.”
“Damn!” Bryce said.
Mitch looked between me and Bryce. “Honestly, Josh should be thanking you instead of pulling this crap. That bitch was crazy.”
“It doesn’t appear he agrees with you,” Bryce said flatly.
“Yeah, but still . . . stupid.” Mitch threw up a hand, shaking his head like he couldn’t fathom it. “So that’s it? That’s really what Josh is still pissed about? She played both of you, and it was forever ago, but it’s your fault?” he said, looking at me.
“No.” Bryce shook his head. “His jealousy, or whatever the hell you want to call it, didn’t start until Kennedy showed up.
He liked her. Thought he had a chance. And then you came back into the picture and took over.
” He tipped his chin toward me. “Sampson couldn’t handle being second best again. Especially not to you.”
I knew Josh had liked Kennedy, but not to that extent.
“That’s so fucked up,” Mitch muttered. “So, all this time, it’s been less about Kennedy and more about hurting Nash?”
“I guess partially,” Bryce said, “but I’m sure he would’ve dated Ken if she’d chosen him. He really did seem to like her.”
“What about the whole thing with him sending those pictures of me to Kennedy when she was in Cali? Was that to break us up or just to hurt me?”
“Again—only partially. Josh slept with Amy.”
“So?” Mitch cut in before I could. “How’s that supposed to hurt Nash? That should’ve helped him. Amy was half the problem.”
“I think . . .” Bryce hesitated. “I’m not sure, this is just me putting the pieces together . . .”
Mitchell and I both waited, watching him.
“He actually thought you liked her. Amy, I mean.” Bryce’s gaze locked on me.
“You showed her some attention at the bar. Then he slept with her, thinking it was his chance to finally get back at you. To hurt you. But it backfired, because Amy still wanted you. And that seems to be when Josh started sending the pictures.”
I dragged my hands down my face, disgust burning through me. It was so fucking stupid. Like preteen-level shit.
“I can’t believe they’re even considering keeping him instead of me,” I admitted. “It . . . really fucking hurts.”
Bryce nodded slowly. “But you kept your cool today,” he said. “I think that helped you a lot. Josh came off the ice acting like a little bitch, and I’m pretty sure the coaches were all over him.”
God, I hoped so.