Page 3 of Off The Ice

“Why the fuck did they give merosycheeks?” I scowled, crumpling the magazine and tossing it across the room. “It’s just a bunch of bullshit, anyway. I didn’t talk to any reporters.”

“Youdidn’t.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean someone else didn’t.”

“Yeah, well, this shit is getting old,” I muttered, running a hand through my sweat-drenched hair. “You’d think they’d find something better to write about by now.”

“But what could bebetterthan the star player of the Harbor Wolves, Dreamy Mr. Liam Brynn himself?” Brody snickered, moving around the locker room with ease.

“You would think that the number of times they refer to me as anassholewould knock me down a few spots on their—what the fuck do they call it—their sexy scale?” I said, unlacing my skates.

“Nah, man,” Brody responded, shrugging off his jersey. “Girls love that stuff. The bigger the dickhead, the better.”

I snorted. “And you know this how?”

“Because I have sisters,” he rolled his eyes in explanation. “Trust me, years of tears, tantrums, and drama-filled stories have taught me alotabout how the other side lives and operates.”

“Right,” I said, nodding along sarcastically.

“Trust me, if I had even fifteen percent of the whole dismissive, asshole vibe you’ve got going on, I’d have a line of puck bunnies out the door just like you. It’s the whole unattainable thing. Drives them crazy.”

“Unattainable?” I raised an eyebrow.

“My sister Tara explained it to me. Girls go for the guys who are hard to get. It’s like—well, I guess it’s like winning the Stanley Cup after a season that started off really shitty for us, right? It seems so out of reach, so totally unattainable at that point—so we work our asses off to get there, and once we do, it’s all the more satisfying than if the whole thing had just been easy. You follow?”

It made sense, all right. He’d just put into words exactly what pissed me off so much about the whole thing. I was aperson,for fucks sake—not some prize to be won. That’s why I hadn’t bothered with dating since I’d gotten into the NHL. It wasn’t worth it. I didn’t have the patience to deal with the endless stream of people who thought I existed solely for public consumption.

But right as I was about to unleash years’ worth of media hatred on one of my best friends, someone equally important to me walked into the room.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked, watching as Maggie strode into the locker room as if she owned the place.

“Hello to you, too.” She frowned, settling a hand on her hip.

A heavy clunk sounded in the background, and I turned to see Brody reaching for the gear he’d fumbled all over the ground. My sister raised her brows at him before turning her attention back to me.

“I’m here to see you,” she said, batting her eyes in a way that was Maggie-code forI need something.

“I’m exhausted, Mags,” I said, standing to head to my locker.

Like a shadow, she followed me. “Too exhausted forme?Your sweet, baby sister who loves you so much?”

“Yes,” I said, shoveling stuff into my bag. “Since apparently whatever this is warranted an in-person visit, I can confidently say I am too exhausted to deal with it right now.”

“Lose the attitude, Liam,” Maggie said, hand shooting out to smack the side of my head. “You’re no fun to be around anymore.”

Brody coughed in the background, a failed attempt to cover the laugh that had me glaring in his direction.

Between the media, the pressure of the game, and the incessant needs of everyone who wanted something from me, how the hell was I supposed to be fun to be around?

I exhaled a sigh, shutting the locker door harder than necessary. “What is it, Mags? Do you need money?”

“Okay, jackass,” Maggie said. “Never mind. You’ve clearly lost all sight of how to be a semi-decent guy. Go about your day.” She scowled and turned to leave.

“Wait,” I called after her, blowing out a breath. “Mags. Stop. I’m sorry.”

She turned, raising a skeptical brow. “Are you?”

“Yes,” I said, meaning it. She didn’t deserve to be talked to like that just because I had a crap day. “What can I do for you?”

“Well,” Maggie started with a nervous smile, “you know my friend Cassie?”

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