Page 64 of In It to Win It

“You’re really a sucker for punishment. He’s going to be wet and sandy now.”

“I’ll introduce him to my big bathtub. And my cleaning service comes tomorrow.” He pauses. “Why does it seem you’re trying to discourage me from taking him?”

I twist my mouth up. “I’m not. I just . . . want you to know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“I’m aware.” His words are loaded, and I justknowhe’s thinking about us . . . about me coming to his place all the time. “I’ll give you my schedule and we can plan out what days you’ll need to come by.”

I nod.

“But you can come anytime,” he says. “I know you’re going to miss him.”

“I am. But I won’t just drop in. I’d, uh, hate to interrupt you in anything.” Blergh.

“I guess that’s fair.”

Byron has had enough and flops down on the sand.

“Buddy.” I plant my butt in the sand next to him. “Are you exhausted?” I rub his head.

JP starts to sit beside me, then appears to change his mind. He moves around Byron and drops down to sit on the beach with Byron between us.

I stare out at the ocean, white sailboats sliding along the horizon, the sun creating a shifting pattern of silver on the blue water. People walk along the hard-packed sand and a few surfers are sitting on their boards, waiting for waves. The breeze lifts loose strands of my hair.

I stroke Byron’s back. “How long have you lived here?” I ask JP.

“Here, in Long Beach? Or my condo?”

“Both.”

“I’ve been in Long Beach six years. I got drafted by the Eagles eight years ago, but I played a couple of seasons in San Diego, and when I first got called up, I rented a place for a while. Bought the condo four years ago.”

I nod. “It’s really nice.”

“It’s okay. It’s close to the arena.”

“You grew up in Canada, right?” I already know this from my Google search. Don’t judge me. You’d do the same.

“Yeah. Québec. My dad bought an AHL team in Drummondville when I was about four or five, so I grew up there, surrounded by hockey. Ended up playing in Gatineau when I was a teenager. I lived there for three years.”

“What’s it like being part of such a famous hockey family?”

“Eh. They’re my family. The fame is weird, but I get it. Bob Wynn is the King of Hockey. To me, he’s Grandpa. Which actually makes it worse.”

“Worse?”

“I mean, grandparents are always proud of their grandchildren, right? But when you play the same sport your grandfather did and he’s ‘the king,’ it’s a little intimidating. It’s a lot to live up to.”

“You think he’s not proud of you?” I take in the tightness of his jaw as he stares out at the ocean.

“Well.” He bends his head. “I haven’t given him a lot to be proud of lately.”

“What? Why? Oh, you mean the suspensions.”

“Yeah. And there’ve been a few other incidents . . . they didn’t get as much media attention. Sometimes my emotions get the better of me.”

I run my tongue over my front teeth. “Really.”

He gives me a surprised glance. “What?”

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