Page 52 of Mister Hockey
“You had a healthy fantasy.”
“Yes. But all these players me and other girls drool over... they’re like... people, you know? Like they are real. And he is real. And what we had, Neve, it was real and I blew it. I can’t get that back.”
“Can’t you?” Neve looked thoughtful. “Because there might be a way.”
Chapter Eighteen
Forty-five minutes later, Jed was kicked back in a patio chair on Tor’s rooftop condo. “Thanks, man,” he said, taking the offered pilsner. The bottle was icy cold, a welcome relief against his too-hot skin.
“Time for a come to Jesus.” Tor opened his bottle with his keychain. “You’ve been dodging my calls since the playoffs. Now this. What the fuck?” Coach didn’t raise his voice. He never did. Other coaches might scream during the game. Make themselves hoarse in the locker room. It wasn’t that Tor was soft-spoken. No. There was nothing soft about Coach Gunnar. It was that he was unshakeable. Nothing rattled him.
Except for Neve Angel.
“I know. I’m sorry. Shit.” Jed took a long pull from the bottle. “This isn’t how I wanted it to go down, believe me. I’ve been trying to decide what to do for weeks.”
Coach shook his head wearily. “My door has always been open to you.”
“I know. I know. But I was in my head.”
“And that woman.” Tor turned to face out. If the Denver skyline was erased, they’d be able to look at the mountains. “The one in the little house with the big hair.”
“Her name is Breezy. She’s Neve Angel’s little sister.”
“And she ratted you out?”
“She swears she didn’t. But there’s that whole Occam’s razor principle, right? Whatever is the simplest explanation is probably correct.”
“Very logical.”
“So what?” Jed’s fingers clutched the bottle’s neck. “You think I did the wrong thing?”
“Do you?” Coach’s stare was unwavering.
Not to mention unnerving.
“Why’d she lie?” Jed got up and paced, scowled down over the railing at the pool and courtyard below. A few people swam laps or read magazines. They looked normal. Didn’t they know? The world had gone mad.
“She needed the money,” he continued. “She lost her job at the library. She has a mortgage. She wants to start a bookstore.”
“So she was paid to do a tell-all exposé on you? By what, leaking gossip on Twitter? That’ll set her up for life.”
“Shit.” Coach didn’t say a lot, but when he did, it always made sense. “I don’t know.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I’m fucking confused.”
“Neve insisted her sister wasn’t the leaker, I’d take that at face value.”
“Say what?” Jed dropped the bottle down against his hip. “You can’t stand Angel.”
“That doesn’t mean I have a poor opinion of her ethics,” Coach shot back coolly.
Jed opened his mouth, slammed it, opened it up again and finally shrugged.
“But you don’t like her.”
“I don’t like most people.”
Jed laughed despite himself. “Fair enough.” Coach was a good guy, loyal to a fault, committed to the team and had an uncanny ability to notice other people and take their measure.
“Do a gut check.” Coach was big on those.
