Game Changer by Kelly Jamieson Page 0,83

chance going to see him. I knew there was a possibility he wouldn’t want to see me. I don’t know why I feel so hurt. Maybe I had a tiny pinch of hope that we could still have something?

That wasn’t my intent in coming here. I really did want to help him, if I could. Because I care.

I suck in a shaky breath and let it out slowly.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. I don’t just care about Jax. I love him. Is it a rebound? I don’t think so. I know it’s not. I’m in love with him.

I was running away from Chicago because I was hurt and humiliated, and didn’t believe in love anymore. And I fell in love…for real.

Sadness washes through me, heaviness weighing down my arms and legs, my throat burning.

I could see Jax wasn’t being honest. Maybe that “whatever” attitude works with some people, but I know Jax pretty well now, and I can see past it. He’s not happy. He just doesn’t want to admit it.

I hate that he feels that way. I hate that things aren’t working out for him.

But they will. I know it. It may not be exactly what he wants, but he’s a talented player and some team will snap him up if things don’t get done soon. The idea of him leaving Chicago, though, feels like a fist ripping out my internal organs.

I lean my forehead on the steering wheel. What does it matter to me where he is? We can’t be together regardless. I do know he wants to stay here, though.

Finally I get my shit together and put my car in drive to head home.

I still feel like a lump of fractured ice has replace my heart.

Jax

Having just showered at the rink, I’m getting dressed when my phone rings. It’s an actual phone call, which usually means it’s Mom or Paul. I reach for it and see it’s Paul.

Fuck, I can’t take more disappointment right now. I ignore the call and toss my phone back into the locker as I finish dressing.

Training camp started yesterday. I’m not there. Obviously.

Whatever he wants to tell me, I’ll find out later.

My legs have the strength of garden hoses right now. I pushed myself hard out there on the ice. Whatever happens, I’m going to be in shape to deal with it. Unless I have a heart attack first. Ha.

I zip up my bag of gear and hoist it to leave the arena. I have a massage booked with the trainer I’ve been working with, which is going to feel fucking amazing.

I turn off my phone while I’m getting worked over by Viktor. Stretched out on the table, my face planted down into the opening, I let him dig into tight muscles from my feet up to my neck and shoulders for an hour and a half. I damn near fall asleep. I haven’t been sleeping that great the last few weeks.

Molly’s hurt face floats in front of my closed eyes and as usual when I think of her, my gut clenches.

I try to push that aside though. I heard from Everly yesterday, and Grandpa’s doing okay. His Alzheimer’s hasn’t progressed very much in the last few months, but Chelsea is still doing a lot. The money stuff has been taken care of, and Dad and Uncle Matt are involved in Grandpa’s life again, helping Chelsea more. Now the hockey season’s started, they’re probably busy too, but I hope they can find the time to be there more.

After my massage, I go for lunch. Eating healthy is a big part of staying in shape, and I haven’t been very diligent about that. But I stop at a Freshii for an Oaxaca bowl that’s full of healthy things like brown rice, black beans and avocado. I sit down to eat it there.

I pull out my phone to scroll through sports news while I eat, and when I turn it on I discover a bunch of voice mails and about a hundred texts from Paul, the last one in all caps shouting at me to ANSWER YOUR GODDAMN PHONE.

Jesus. Shaking my head, I tap to call him. I hold the phone to my ear as I fork up some rice, beans and corn, waiting for Paul to pick up.

“Jesus Christ!” he bellows in my ear.

I hold the phone out and frown.

“What’s up, man?”

“I’ve been trying to get hold of you all morning!”

“Yeah, I was busy. At the rink skating, then I had a massage.”

“For