Page 85 of Breakaway

Remi paced around her living room, not really seeing anything.

“No.” She shook her head. “The playoffs already started. I can’t imagine why he’d do that. But clearly, he got carried away, drank a bit too much, got arrested…” she rolled her eyes, “and was too embarrassed to tell me. But that doesn’t explain why he played so little tonight or why he got in that fight that cost the game.”

“I don’t know, Remi.”

“Something’s wrong.” After examining all the facts, she concluded that something was definitely wrong. Clammy-hands, heart-freezing, gut-churning wrong. And if he wasn’t going to tell her what it was, she was going to go to him and make him.

Except he was in another city. Dammit. And he wouldn’t be back in Chicago until Thursday.

Jase sat down in his coach’s office, his insides a mass of twisted nerves.

“Okay, Jase. What’s going on?”

He was getting tired of that question. Tired of hearing it, tired of trying to talk his way around it.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. You go out and get wasted last weekend, act like anasshole, get arrested, show up for practice the next day so hung-over your face was green and you could barely skate. Then you get in a stupid fight and take a dumbass penalty that cost us our first playoff game. Last night you didn’t play much better.”

Jase slumped in the chair, unable to meet Dan’s eyes.

“You’re saying that’s nothing?”

He shook his head.

Dan waited. “Fuck.” He shook his head, his mouth tight. “Okay, then. If nothing’s wrong, get your shit together and act like the professional you are. We’ve got another game tomorrow night, and if we lose, we only have one more chance. We need you, Jase, but I won’t hesitate to make you a healthy scratch if you aren’t able to get your head in the game. This is not the time to be out drinking and partying and acting like an irresponsible teenager.”

Jase winced.

He rubbed his forehead.

“You’re better than this, Jase,” Dan continued, his voice easing.

Shit. Jase’s stomach rolled over.

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong? Maybe I can help.”

And that did it.

Jase leaned one elbow on the armrest of the chair and covered his eyes while he tried to get his tight throat to relax enough to speak. He tried and nothing came out. Cleared his throat. Swallowed.

“I found out on Saturday that my ex-girlfriend is pregnant.”

Silence. Then, “Jesus.”

“Yeah.” Jase took his hand away and met Dan’s eyes. “It’s not that…I don’t want…fuck.” He swallowed again. “I don’t know what to do. I’ve been seeing someone else—someone I really care about. Christ! I don’t want to hurt her.”

Dan nodded and leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. “Yeah, I guess I see the problem. So she’s pretty upset about this?”

“She doesn’t know.”

“Oh. Jesus, Jase. You gotta tell her.”

“I can’t tell her.” Anguish slammed into him like a body check. “I don’t know what to tell her, because I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Am I supposed to break up with her so I can be with Brianne? So we can get back together and be parents to this baby? Am I supposed to ask Brianne to marry me?” His voice cracked.

“Oh, man.” Dan rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know the answers to those questions, Jase. I can’t tell you what to do. But a couple things I can tell you. First of all—you have to deal with this. We’re in the playoffs. We need you here and present, mind and body and soul, every game, all sixty minutes. You can’t let your personal life interfere with your professional life.”

Jase nodded. “I know.” He felt like dog crap on the sidewalk about how unprofessional he’d been. He tightened his mouth.

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