COMMENTS (9):
What a surprise, the Rusties are mid again
TAKE THE C FROM JONES. HE DOESN’T HAVE WHAT IT TAKES
Who the fucksays shit like that? Keyboard warriors who knew I couldn’t get to them, that’s who.
We were down one fucking game. The first game of the season! And already, the talking heads had somehow put out videos with the “here we go again with the Rusties” bullshit. The comments sections were full of agreement. “Classic Rusties” and “wash-ups” and “snoozefest.” The sheets pooled in my lap where I sat up in bed. Violet was asleep beside me, the only thing keeping me from shouting back at my phone screen.
“Fucking dickheads,” I swore. “When was the last time you played, C-Nasty? So renowned for your storied career in fucking Arizona.”
With a hum, Violet stirred. Her fingertips dragged down my bare back. “Who are you cussing out?”
“The fuckin’ . . . ugh.” I tossed my phone to the end of the bed and nestled back into the sheets to face her. “It doesn’t matter. You’re here, and I’d rather be with you.”
She pouted her lip and combed my hair from the side of my face. “You wanna talk about it? Better out than in.”
“Don’t use Shrek’s words against me,” I sighed. Our legs tangled and I rested my hand on her waist over the sheets.
“Fine. But stop delaying.”
I huffed. “I just . . . really want the team to do well thisyear, you know? We ended last season so close to something big, and I’m so scared I don’t have what it takes.”
“You mean ‘we don’t have what it takes?’”
“No. I meant me.”
Vi’s brow furrowed and she nodded. “You’re not the only person on the team.”
I lifted a shoulder. “I’m the captain, though. It was actually kind of shitty of me to have a good game while everyone else was floundering.”
She propped up on an elbow. “Colton Jones, I’m not going to sit here and let you dim your shine just because everybody’s not up to your speed right now.”
She didn’t get it. I had a major responsibility at the highest level of my sport. I couldn’t be selfish. I had to bring everyone up with me.
But I didn’t want to mansplain sports leadership to her, so I accepted her forehead kiss and snuggle. Vi sealed her arms around me and pressed my face into her chest. “Thanks.”
She stilled. “But if you guys could get it together so I don’t have to rearrange my fantasy team, that’d be great.”
I gasped. “You’d trade me?”
“Well, not you. You’re performing.”
“Give me your phone. Let me see your roster. I’ll fix it.”
“Absolutely not!” Vi scrambled to get to her phone on her side of the bed and chucked it into the armchair across the room. “Do you know how many times I’ve been accused of insider trading because you and I used to date?”
Used to. I knew I said no labels. I knew she needed space. But her waking up in my bed with my shirt on sure didn’t feel like “used to.”
“Do I need to sign an NDA? A non-compete?” I joked.
“Honestly, don’t plant it in Vince’s head. He’d probablymake you. I’ve already told them I’m not passing on any requests to inflict injuries.”
My pulse picked up and I fought to breathe evenly. What had she told her friends about me? “People know we’re hanging out?”
“Not that I know of. I mean, Jeanine and Mara know, obviously, since I sat with them. Kitty and probably Guy since they’re a package deal. Oh, speaking of J and Mara, is it too soon to suggest a hockey romance for our next book?”
I pulled back from her. “I’m sorry, a what?”
