Page 18 of Play Dirty

“Because you’re twelve and hormonal,” I grunt.

He just laughs and runs to Effie, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around.

It’s interesting watching the two of them interact.

She’s a year or two older than him, and a successful model in her own right, while he’s just a kid from bum-fuck nowhere whose parents did a shitty job preparing him for life both in the big city and as a professional athlete. So the older guys on the team—me, Gabe, Canyon, Ivan—we’ve taken him under our wing. We bought him his first condoms.

Hell, it was Chey who asked Effie to go out on a date with him just to build his confidence. We had no idea she’d actually like the goofy teenager.

Not that he’s a bad kid. He’s a great kid. Smart, talented, and big-hearted. Just immature and naïve about the ways of the world. We worried he’d knock up the first chick to pop his cherry and wind up tied to her for life—at eighteen. Instead, Effie has turned into a true blessing. Helping him grow up without any obvious attempts at manipulating him, financially or otherwise.

I’m so lost in thought watching Connor and Effie, I don’t realize that Stevie is standing next to me, following my line of sight.

“They’re so cute together,” she murmurs.

“Yeah.”

“Do you remember being young like that?” she whispers.

“Sure.” I shrug. “But not well.”

“I used to think that love always had a happy ending. Obviously, some relationships didn’t work out, but that once you found your soulmate that was all that mattered.”

“What do you think now?” I ask curiously.

“That love and soulmates are fallacies invented in romance novels.”

I kind of agree with her.

It’s just hard to say it out loud.

“I think maybe our expectations were too high,” I say instead. “Like, I expected Brenna to share my dreams for the future. That I would work hard at hockey and provide a wonderful life for her and our kids, and she’d be waiting at home for me. Like, this fucking hockey-themed fairytale.”

“Did you ask her?” she asks curiously.

That gives me pause.

Did I?

We talked about kids, of course, and she knew I was a professional hockey player. “I think the conversations we had and the reality of what our life became were two different things.”

“She didn’t enjoy staying home with the kids while you traveled with the team and did your thing.” There’s no censure in her voice, just a kind of understanding. Obviously, one I never had.

“I’m sure I’m partially to blame, because she was alone a lot, but I’m also frustrated. What did she think would happen? I didn’t get her pregnant on my own—she had a part in that. I couldn’t be there all the time, but she had help. A cleaning service that came twice a week. The money to pay for babysitters any time she wanted to go somewhere. Martin was already in pre-kindergarten, so he was gone from nine to two everyday…” My voice trails. I’ve had these conversations in my head a million times, trying to figure out where my marriage went wrong.

“I don’t think you’re going to get the answers you’re looking for,” she says softly. “At least, not from me. The only person you’ll get them from is her. But if you want a woman’s perspective, I’m happy to give it.”

Do I want a woman’s perspective?

Yeah, I do.

In fact, I desperately need one.

“Shoot,” I say after a moment. “Let me have it.”

Chapter6

Stevie

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