Page 1 of Risky Game

Chapter 1

Logan

“Vanessa, you can’t do this right now.” I paced back and forth in the hall. One hand held my phone while my other made a mess of my hair. My wife—no.

My ex-wife was a master professional at giving me horrific headaches at the absolute worst time.

“I know, Logan, but this is a trip of a lifetime. How am I supposed to say no?”

“You’re supposed to say no because you’re in charge of our child. Not sure why that’s so hard for you to understand.”

She scoffed.

My damn wife. Ex. My damn ex-wife. We had this all worked out. She had full custody of Amelia during the season. I saw her on holidays and my bye week. The occasional home game weekend, which was going to be hard enough. Hell, it was hard enough not knowing when I was going to see her again, but this?

“It’s only for three months!”

“That’s half of my damn season!”

I shouted back at her. Clenched my jaw. Inhaled a breath that did very little to settle my anger and frustration. She planned on leaving the country for three months so she could travel across the Mediterranean with her new boyfriend. Her new boyfriend she moved in almost as soon as I moved out.

Okay, so it was two months later. Whatever. The point was, this was my first season head coaching. I left everything in California, fought a decent if not still completely sucky custody plan with Vanessa over Amelia, but it was what was best for our daughter. I barely had the time to brush my teeth these days, much less become a full-time single parent.

“You just don’t understand. You never did. Anything I ever wanted—”

Not this again. “Enough. You can’t guilt me on this, and we’re both already clear on my failings. I don’t need to rehash them.” I hadn’t been a good husband. Not in the last few years. I completely acknowledged it and took full responsibility for my part in my marriage failing. I couldn’t even deny it, so when I got this coaching job—the dream of a lifetime for me—I hadn’t hesitated to accept. I’d just been overly confident in the idea Vanessa would come with me.

“My first game is next week, Ness. Can’t you guys push this off? Until January?”

“Italy in January and February? Come on, Logan. It’ll be freezing and miserable then.”

My eye twitched. Of course. The weather was more important than her daughter. She hadn’t always been this selfish or thoughtless. Apparently, a lot had changed for both of us in the last seven months.

“What am I supposed to do with Amelia? I’m working all day and now traveling.”

“Hire a nanny.”

“Right.” I scrubbed my hand through my hair again and scoffed. “Because I can go hire a fucking nanny so easily and quickly.”

“I can have her go to your parents then.”

They’d love that. But they weren’t Amelia’s parents. They were mine.

Why was I even arguing about this? I hated only getting to see Amelia on FaceTime. Since that was the only contact I had with her until she was able to fly out here during our bye week in October, I was dying for one of her ultra-healing and extra-calming hugs. I’d figure this out. Just like I’d always had to figure things out.

I spun on my heels, intent on taking another lap back and forth across the hall, and came to a stop.

Our kicker, Jassen Moore, stood there, glancing at me, then in the other direction he must have come from like he should probably hightail it out of here. His discomfort couldn’t be more obvious.

I sighed and held up a finger for Jassen to wait a second. He wouldn’t have come searching for me if he didn’t need something. As far as players went, he was pretty chill and didn’t require a lot. “When do you leave?”

“Monday.” She had to be smiling. She sounded way too peppy. I wanted to throttle her through the phone.

Monday was five days away. Four days to figure out how to win our last preseason game. Five days to find a nanny and get a room ready for my daughter.

“Send her out here. I’ll figure things out.” I’d do anything for Amelia, even if it meant she needed to spend the days with me on the field for a while. Hell, she was four. She wouldn’t mind. She’d probably have a blast.

“Her plane lands at six.”

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