“Good doctors, good support, good rest,” I repeated my mantra.

“I saw it paying off out there. You could be a little easier on Bentley.”

“Kid’s after my spot. I’m not giving him any excuse to think I’m weak.”

Coach nodded. “Yeah, well the starting line-up for the pre-season game next week is going up in a few, and we’ll see how he handles it.”

My grip tightened on the armrests of the chair. “Do I need to worry?”

“Hell no, you don’t. I knew it was a gamble to keep you on the roster last year with you out injured all season, but it paid off. You’re the best grinder in the league.”

I exhaled, relief flooding me. I might not put the points on the board, but without me pounding assholes—grinding them against the boards to get the puck out—Warren wasn’t scoring. “So is that why I’m in here? So you can tell me my spot’s safe?”

He shook his head and handed me a piece of paper.

I took it, my eyes glancing over the dates and locations. “The schedule?”

“Look at November.”

My eyes scanned down the page. “Ottawa.” Fuck, it’s the same weekend as Lettie’s birthday.

“We’ve got one series here, and one there before Christmas.”

I nodded, my mouth suddenly dry. “Is that all?”

“Yeah, I just wanted to give you the heads up.”

I nodded again like my head was on autopilot. “Yeah, thanks.” I stood, my legs slightly shaky and walked out, my fist crumpling the schedule.

“Oh shit, you didn’t lose your spot did you?” Rory asked as I sat down.

I sat mute as a general chaos erupted in the locker room.

“Coach posted the list,” Warren muttered.

I vaguely registered that they both got up to look at it, too damn lost in my head to care about anything else.

Ontario. My shoulder let out a twinge of pain like it knew that the player who’d destroyed it—and almost us—was coming back for it.

Lettie. God, what was I going to tell her? Could the timing be worse?

Rory and Warren sat back down, flanking me as they came back. “You’re starting,” Warren said.

“Yeah,” I answered.

“So what’s the drama?’ Rory asked.

I handed him the schedule. “November.”

Warren leaned over so they could both look, and they hissed out their breaths at the same time.

“Ontario,” Rory mumbled. “Fuck a duck.”

“Adkins still playing for them?” Warren asked.

I nodded.

“Shit. And where he goes—”

“Helen follows,” I answered. Like the fucking bitch she was. But I’d be damned if she got near Lettie.

 

“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you? Or just toss dishes around like they’ve done something to offend you?” Bailey asked as she rescued the plate I nearly dropped.

“Nothing,” I answered.

“Right,” she said, slipping the plate into the dishwasher. “Nothing was wrong when you stomped in here like you were on a mission. Nothing was wrong when you snapped at the reporter on the phone about the lineup announcement. Nothing was definitely wrong when you murdered your steak at dinner, and nothing is wrong now,” she finished, grabbing a glass out of my hand.

My fingers flexed on the edge of the counter. She was right. I’d been an asshole since I got home. “Think she noticed?”

Bailey’s small, delicate hand covered mine, and a shot of desire raced up the same veins that were laced in anger, the combination dangerous to the lines I’d drawn. “I think she noticed that you weren’t quite as into the book, but that’s it.”

I nodded slowly. “Damn. I need to be better.”

“She’s allowed to see you have bad days.”

“We’re playing Ontario the weekend of her birthday.”

Bailey blinked, understanding dawning in those deep hazel eyes. “Adkins.”

“Yeah.”

“Helen?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

Her fingers laced with mine, and I had a primal urge to lift it to my mouth and gently suck her fingers inside. Fuck. I moved my hand away, hating the way that she flinched.

“We’ll deal with it. It’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.”

“Right,” I said, sarcasm dripping from my voice. “It’s not me I’m worried about. Sure, Adkins can get ahold of me and fuck me up again, but Lettie…”

“She’s your daughter,” Bailey said. “She’s got your strength and ability to judge character. Don’t stress.”

The way she looked up at me, all soft and trusting—fuck, it did things to me. I wanted to pick her up by her luscious ass and lift her to the kitchen counter. I wanted to spread her thighs and feel her cradle my dick as I took her mouth to see if she tasted as good as she looked. I wanted to palm her breasts through that tank top she was wearing and then suck on her nipples once I had them free from her bra.

I wanted things I had no fucking right to, not when we’d been friends this long, and most definitely not while she was Lettie’s nanny.

“Gage?” she asked softly, gripping my bicep lightly and stroking her fingers over the skin.

Fuck, I loved the way she said my name. Half sigh, half prayer. I bet it would sound even better when she was screaming it, my face buried in her pus—

Oh shit, I have got to get out of here. I stepped back like she’d burned me.

“You know, I told the guys I was meeting up with them tonight. I need to blow off a little steam.”

“Of course,” she said quietly, her head dropping a little. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

She gave me a soft smile and left me standing in the kitchen, watching her ass walk away.

I met up with the guys, had a few, picked out the first petite brunette I saw, and had her home and naked under me in record time. Her curves were wrong, hard where Bailey was soft, enhanced where Bailey was natural, but she’d do.

I used those few moments like I always did—to forget.

I just had to get the woman out of the house before Lettie woke up—before Bailey had anything else said to her about our living and employment arrangements.