Page 53 of In It to Win It

“No!” My jaw drops. “Hell, no. Thereareconsequences. The Department of Player Safety doesn’t give a shit what my name is.”

I think. They wouldn’t go easy on me because of who my family is, would they?

I’ve never thought that. I’ve neverwantedthat. That Uncle Mark would think it about me burns.

“No,” he agrees. “Likely not. But that’s supplemental discipline. You also gotta face the consequences from the refs . . . the fans . . . your own teammates.”

“I know that.” I clench my teeth. “Believe me. I’m trying to do better this year. Control my emotions.”

“And not taking stupid penalties. You gotta keep your feet moving. Too many of those stick infractions were because you were behind the play.”

Ugh. He’s right. I know it. I nod slowly. “Yeah.”

“We’ll work on that.”

“You talk to everyone else like this?”

He grins. “Yeah. You think you’re special or something?”

One corner of my mouth lifts. “Nope.”

“Everyone has a part of their game they need to work on,” he says.

“Yeah. I want to work hard.”

“Good. I want everyone to be the best player they can be.”

“Yeah.”

“And I know you can be the best,” he adds. “Both as your uncle . . . and as your coach.”

My chest expands and I lift my chin. “Thanks, Uncle Mark. Er. Coach.”

His faith in me, despite his warning, means a lot. I’d be lying if I said making my dad and my uncle proud wasn’t important to me. It is. Also Grandpa Wynn. Even though I play for the “wrong” team, I want him to be proud of me too.

Most of all . . .? I want to be proud of myself.

11

JP

I’mon my way to yoga class.

Things have been busy with a bunch of road trips—San Jose, Phoenix, Dallas, Vancouver, with home games in between. I wanted to go to another class, but with games every Saturday for the last three weeks, I haven’t been able to. I hate to admit it, but I liked the way I felt after the class and without Harrison there showing off for the instructor, maybe I’ll be able to focus even more.

Although Taylor in tight leggings and a bra top is hella distracting.

I sigh. She’snotthe reason I want to go to another yoga class. Seriously. I don’t even know if she’ll be there. The last time I saw her, she was broken up about her parents’ marriage ending, crying her eyes out. I’ve had a hard time not thinking about that over the last month, wanting to get hold of her somehow to see if she’s okay. I considered texting or calling Lacey to ask but knew how she’d take that. I saw Everly once and managed to casually ascertain that she was “okay,” but that was it.

This is all about improving my game. So far this season I’m playing okay, but I know I can do better. It always takes a few games to get back into the swing of things—working out in a gym, even training camp and exhibition games can’t totally prepare you for the reality of a regular-season game. It’s hard.

We’ve lost a few games, and I’ve taken a few penalties. One of them, I’d take again—I likely saved us from a goal against us, and we managed to kill the penalty. I deserved a couple of them, they were dumb, but another was a fucking horrible call that just about made me lose my mind. Hence the yoga class.

I need to find my Zen. Or whatever.

This is the second year having my uncle as my coach and it’s stressful. I mean, he’s a good coach, but . . . he’s my uncle. I don’t want any special treatment, and I especially don’t want my teammates to think I’m getting any special treatment. I also don’t want them to be awkward around me when they’re pissed at Uncle Mark, which happens even though he’s a good coach. He’s tough and honest, but fair. And damn smart. I think every guy on the team feels like I do . . . we listen to him and do our best to give him what he asks of us. And I want to show him my best, not me breaking my stick and shouting obscenities at the ref. (I didn’t do that, but I wanted to.)

I park in the lot. Unlike last time I was here, it’s a beautiful sunny day, the sky a clear, cloudless blue, the ocean a deeper shade of cobalt. I stroll inside Makara Yoga, trying to feel chill, not hyper-alert on the lookout for Taylor.

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