Page 67 of For the Boys
She tried not to be jealous. Her friends constantly reminded her that he wouldn’t be giving her this much of his time and attention if he wasn’t seriously interested in her. While Berkley’s mind, the logical side of her, knew they were right, her heart rarely, if ever, agreed. Being cheated on changed a person.
“All I’m saying is maybe we should meet the guy before we make our judgments,” her mom was saying when Berkley finally turned her attention back to her family and away from her inner turmoil.
“That’s all I’m asking,” Berkley said. “Just give him a chance.”
“We can do that,” her dad said. “Can’t we, Logan?”
Logan glared at him before nodding.
“Thank you,” Berkley said, reaching out to squeeze her dad’s hand. “Now can we please quit talking about this and enjoy our meal?”
“Yes, please. All of this boy talk is depressing me.”
The whole table laughed and dug into their food.
Chapter Thirteen
Brent
Every time Brent stepped onto the ice for a game, whether it was during preseason or playoffs, he forgot everything but hockey. Most athletes were masters of single-minded focus when it came time to perform, but Brent had frequently been told he took it beyond what was normal.
What could he say? He was above average.
This ability was something he would need to lean on heavily for tonight’s game, or his mind would wander to distracting places.
For starters, Anna coming onto him at the Gala, thus forcing him to find a way to terminate her contract, was stressing him out. Her contract had a morals clause, but without proof that she had violated it, firing her without dragging them both through a long, drawn-out legal process was impossible. And he had to admit, he was terrified of Berkley finding out about what Anna had done. How would she react?
Another thing that was weighing on him was the fact that Anna still wouldn’t leave him alone. Even after the Gala, when he’d made it painfully obvious he wasn’t interested, she’d still been sending him suggestive texts and photos. He was saving them in a folder on his phone to show to his lawyer, but again, they weren’t necessarily proof she had violated her morals clause. Any good lawyer would be able to spin them to make it look as though she and Brent were in a sexual relationship.
What it boiled down to was that Brent had to do something, fast, or risk hurting Berkley and ruining their budding relationship.
But now was not the time to worry about it. He had a job to do.
They were on the ice for pregame warm-ups when Parker skated up to him.
“Bet by now you’re wishing you got your dick wet with Anna the other night, hey, Jean?” he said, lazily dragging a puck along with him. “Stress relief and all that.”
Brent reached out with his stick and took the puck away from Parker with one quick flick of his wrist. “Don’t be so crass, Parker. And get the fuck away from me. It’s game time. Focus on that instead of shit that doesn’t concern you.”
Parker skated away, hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Whatever you say, Cap. Or should I say, Alternate Cap.”
Brent shook his head and scanned the ice, scoping out the opponent. Today, the Warriors were up against one of their division rivals, the Pittsburgh Quakers.
Coach chose to start the second line that night, which was how Brent found himself watching puck-drop from the bench. Coach had a habit of wanting to keep his top line as fresh as possible, which drove Brent nuts because it meant the other three lines got on the ice before he did.
Inevitably, the lines would break apart as the game progressed. For now, Brent, Cole, and Chase raced onto the ice when Coach called for Brent’s line, and he heaved a sigh of relief at being home again before sprints up and down the ice stole his breath.
His first several shifts went by without incident. The Warriors had one good scoring opportunity early, when Mitch sent a lead pass to Cole, who narrowly missed the chance to tap it into a wide-open net. Shots on goal were hard to come by for both teams, however, and the first period ended scoreless.
His first shift of the second period was when all hell broke loose.
Instead of settling down and catching their breath during the first intermission, it seemed as if the members of the Quakers had taken shots of adrenaline and were even more wound up than before. Every pass they made was harder, hits were rougher and borderline illegal, and players regularly slammed their sticks into the ice in frustration.
“Dude, what the fuck happened to them in the locker room?” Chase asked Brent.
“I don’t know. They’re fucking rabid. If the refs keep calling it like this, someone is going to get hurt.”
“JEAN!” Coach yelled.
