Game Changer by Kelly Jamieson Page 0,11

“Yes. Seriously. I won’t be a bother. I just want to get out of town.”

“Molly. Wait.” I cross the room to stand in front of her. She tips her head back and meets my eyes. “I think you should go to your parents’ place. I think you should call Steve. And I think you two should maybe go for some couples’ counseling and see if you can work things out.”

Her eyes widen. They’re a light green, almost the color of a pear, with a dark ring around the iris. “What?” She sounds like I just jabbed a stick into her belly.

“Maybe you can work things out. Let him explain, apologize, grovel.”

“Explain what?” Her voice rises.

“I don’t know.” I swipe a hand over my mouth. “Maybe he has some kind of explanation.”

“There is no explanation for cheating!”

I sigh. “I know.” I totally agree. But I feel I have to give this a shot. “But people make mistakes. Maybe you can move on from this.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She plants her hands on her hips and gives me a glare that could ignite a bonfire. “I saw those texts! I know what he was doing! And who he was doing it with!”

Shit. Shit. I hold up my hands and make a calming motion. “Okay, I get it.”

“I want to move on, alright. But not with him! Look, I’m not saying I hate him, but I hope his next blow job is from a shark.”

After a stunned beat, I burst out laughing. I fall against the wall, I’m laughing so hard. “Jesus, Flynn.”

She gives a lopsided smile, her anger dissipating. “It’s true.” Her eyebrows slope down. “Why are you saying this stuff? You really think I should go back to him?”

“I’m not saying that.” I shake my head. I don’t even know what I’m saying. “I just feel like you shouldn’t bail on a relationship without making an effort.”

“I made an effort. He didn’t.”

Honestly, I don’t blame her. Like I said, she deserves better. “Okay. It’s your decision.”

“Good. I’m coming to California with you.”

“You could just stay here. If you want to hide out for a while. The place’ll be empty.”

She pushes out her bottom lip, considering this. For a few seconds I think she’s going to go for it, then she shakes her head. “I want to be far away. This is going to be all over the internet.”

I exhale slowly. “Okay.” I grab my own phone and find the boarding pass I downloaded yesterday when I checked in. I give her the flight number.

She sits herself down on my bed without being invited. After a moment, she says, “What’s your seat?”

“3C.”

Her head snaps up. “First class.”

“Yeah.”

“Jesus,” she mutters. Her fingers move on the screen.

Maybe a thousand bucks or more will deter her.

Then she lifts her head and smiles. “Wow, I can’t believe seat 3A was available.”

“You didn’t.”

“Yup. I’m booked.”

I shake my head. “Okay, then. What are you going to do about clothes?”

She looks down at herself. “I guess I can’t get on the plane like this, huh?”

“Wouldn’t bother me.”

She laughs. “You know I won’t. Can we stop at a Target on the way to the airport?”

I can’t say no to her, goddammit. I never can. I hope she doesn’t realize this, or I’m fucked. “Sure. Why not.”

5

Jax

Several hours later, we’re at O’Hare, checking my bag and Molly’s newly purchased suitcase filled with clothes and girl stuff from Target. Molly spent most of the drive to the airport on the phone with Katelyn Bennet, sorting out wedding-related issues. Katelyn is a wedding planner and she’s married to another one of our teammates, Tanner.

“Flying first class is nice,” Molly says when we’re in the first-class lounge. “I’ve never done it before.”

“I need the leg room.” At six-two, sitting in the main cabin is pretty damn uncomfortable.

“I guess you do. I gather the charter plane you guys use has more leg room.

“Yeah. It’s all customized for us.”

We order drinks.

“Do you miss hockey?” she asks.

“Not yet.”

“When will you miss it?”

“In about a month.” I grin. “That’s usually how it goes. I love it, but the season is long and hard. My back’s hurting, and summer off gives it a chance to heal.”

Her lips pout in concern. “Are you okay?”

“Oh yeah. Nothing serious. I’ve had some physical therapy—tight hip flexors apparently pull things out of whack. I have some stretches and exercises to do.”

“Oh, that’s good.”

“After a while away from the game, though, I get antsy and anxious to get back on the ice.”

She nods.

I