Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83542 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 418(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
“Have sex? Because it feels good.”
“Make yourself a target,” I clarify. “You play dumb and carefree, but you’re not. You have to know that as good of a player as you are that they’ll trade you eventually if this keeps up.”
There’s something in his expression that’s just out of reach. Similar to how he looked when we first got back to the hotel earlier. “They’ll trade me anyway. It’s part of the game. Good, bad, whatever. We’re all at the whims of people who want to make more money.”
That’s the second time in one night that he’s surprised me with his answer. It makes him more … human. I don’t like it. “I’ve decided Boston makes you depressing.”
He stands, closing the distance between us. “And Boston makes you fun.”
“I’m always fun.”
His piercing eyes meet mine. “Not fun enough to get on your knees though, are you?”
“For anyone but you, Mr. Voyjik.”
And hey, if I screw up this entire thing and end up being fired anyway, I can always take him up on his offer then.
Guys like Oskar are a dime a dozen.
And I refuse to risk my job for a quick fuck.
Even if it’s guaranteed to be a really, really good one.
SIX
OSKAR
The week after All-Stars starts with an eight-day road trip. Normally, I don’t mind away games because we go out afterward as a team, whereas at home, the married guys are quick to run home to their families. On the road, we’re a unit. We play together, stay together, and eat meals together. Other than being with the Collective, it’s the only real sense of belonging I get.
It feels more permanent, even though it’s not with the constant rotating roster of players on any given team. I guess it’s that hockey and everything that goes with it is more stable than my sex life, and that’s why I push myself so hard to be the best.
This road trip though, I’ll be lucky if I’m even allowed out with the team. And if I am, Lane’s going to stay glued to my side the whole time. As much as I like teasing him, I do know where the line is, and undermining him in front of the team is something I wouldn’t do.
In front of the Collective? Sure. But I only want to mess with the guy. I don’t actually want to do serious damage to his career. Or his reputation.
As I get on the team bus taking us to the airport to fly to Detroit, I take a seat next to Aleksander Emerson. I’ve roomed with him a couple of times, and he’s the perfect roommate. He’s laid-back and doesn’t get involved in drama. He’s happy for me to do my thing, and he doesn’t pester me with questions or lecture me. He never goes out because he has a wife at home, and I like that he’s just … there. He has a calming presence about him.
At least, he usually does.
I stare at his dark and messy hair that’s normally styled neatly, his overgrown beard that’s generally trimmed to show off his amazing bone structure. His green eyes are dull, and the bags under them belong in the undercarriage of the bus with the rest of our luggage.
“Rough night?”
He lacks his usual happiness. “Rough month, really.”
Where has my head been? Oh, right. Up my own ass. I wait for him to elaborate, and he must feel my gaze burning into him because he meets my eyes and sighs.
“Rebecca and I are getting a divorce.”
In the aisle, Lane is passing us and practically trips over his own feet. Then he narrows his eyes at me. “What did you do, Voyjik?”
“Why do you think I did anything?”
He shakes his head. “Sorry. I heard something that could be a PR nightmare and automatically assumed. Carry on. But, uh, Emerson, come see me when you get a chance.” Lane keeps moving and takes a seat a few rows behind us.
Aleks casts his eyes downward. “And now it’s really official.”
“Haven’t you guys been married since high school?”
“Kinda. Well, not married since then but together since then. She’s the only person I’ve ever been with, and so it’s … yeah. Been rough. Especially with still living under the same roof, but that’s going to change soon.”
“There’s no chance of working it out?” Now is not the time to go into my “monogamy is bullshit” spiel, even if it’s on the tip of my tongue. I’m reckless, not an asshole.
“We’ve been in couples’ counseling for over a year. You know things are bad when even your therapist suggests you’re a lost cause.”
“They actually said that? Are they allowed to do that?”
He waves me off. “That’s paraphrasing, but yeah, that’s where we’re at. Somewhere along the way, being married to a hockey player became too hard for her.”