Page 41 of Forecheck
“Staying in Detroit and joining a firm there, or leaving for a job, would hardly be throwing anything away. In fact, Professor Lippett offered me a job, and he happens to represent a number of the city’s top athletes—including Brent.”
“Conflict of interest,” my brother warned.
“No shit, Sherlock. I’d just stay far away from anything involving him…if it came to that.”
The rest of our family, who had been watching our exchange with gaping mouths, remained silent for a beat before Mom said, “What the hell is going on?”
“Berkley has a boyfriend,” Logan said. “Who happens to be the Warriors’ star forward.”
“Absolutely not,” Dad said automatically. My gaze darted around the table, unsure who to level with a glare.
“Jay…” my mom warned.
“She’s not dating a professional athlete. I’m sorry. I let the women in this family run amuck about most things, but this is where I draw the line.”
“I’m afraid it’s not really up to you, Daddy.”
“Like hell it’s not.”
“Dad,” I whined. “Please. I’m twenty-five, and Brent is a good guy.”
“If you overlook the fact that he’s had enough tabloid coverage to wallpaper this entire house,” Logan said under his breath.
“No one asked you, you shithead.”
“I’m just saying. He’s kind of a player.”
“He is not!” I protested, not missing the fact that I sounded like a petulant child.
As the voices of my family members rose over the table, each of them telling me what I shouldn’t and shouldn’t do in regards to my life and my relationship, I simply breathed.
I wasn’t your typical middle child. I didn’t act out or get in trouble for attention. Logan and I were just over a year apart in age, and we were seven and six respectively when Jessica was born. I’ve always been a good girl: good grades, good manners, good everything. Dating a professional athlete didn’t negate that. It wasn’t the end of the world like my family was making it out to be.
“You guys!” I finally shouted over the din. “Here’s what you need to know right now: I’ve been seeing Brent since Halloween. We haven’t officially defined our relationship, but I’m not seeing anyone else—nor do I want to—and he’s assured me he’s in the same boat. I trust him. He’s been nothing but genuine, generous, and gentlemanly. Ireallylike him, and I’m happy. That should be enough for all of you. I’m an adult, and I make my own decisions. Brent being in life is one you won’t change my mind on.”
Sufficiently chastened, regular conversation that didn’t revolve around my love life resumed at the table, and I heaved a sigh at a crisis averted.
Aww, Lexie! You Care!
Every time I steppedonto the ice for a game, whether it was during preseason, the playoffs, or any day in between, I forgot everything but hockey. Most athletes were masters of single-minded focus when it came time to perform, but I’d frequently been told I took it beyond what was normal.
What could I say? I was above average.
This ability was something I’d need to lean on heavily for tonight’s game. It was the day after Christmas, and my mind kept wandering to distracting places.
Namely, Berkley Daniels, and how much I missed her.
I shook my head and scanned the ice, scoping out our opponent, the Pittsburgh Quakers.
My first several shifts went by without incident. We 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 in those first twenty minutes, and the period ended scoreless.
My second shift of the second period is when all hell broke loose.
Instead of settling down and catching their breath during the first intermission, it seemed as if the Quakers had taken shots of pure adrenaline in the locker room and were even more wound up than before. Every pass was harder, hits rougher and borderline illegal, and players regularly slammed their sticks into the nearest hard surface in frustration.
“Dude, what the fuck happened to them?” Cole asked me around gulps of air as we caught our breath on the bench before our next shift.
“I don’t know. They’re fucking rabid. If the refs keep calling it like this, someone is going to get hurt.”
