"Fucking semantics. You're not even thinking about it. Not allowed."
"You can't tell me what I can and can't think. It doesn't work that way."
Shannon leaned closer, forcing Sammie to step back. She collided with the wall then shot a desperate look at Taylor, silently asking for help. Only no help would be coming from that direction, she knew that with just one glance. Taylor looked stunned, and almost as furious as Shannon.
"Guys, come one. You're supposed to be my friends. You're supposed to support me."
"Not when you start talking stupid shit like this, we're not. I mean, what the fuck, Reigs? Where is this even coming from?"
"I told you, it's getting to be too much. And I only said I was thinking about it."
Shannon threw her hands in the air, then brought them straight down on top of her head. She closed her eyes and made a low sound in the back of her throat that came out like a growl. Sammie stepped to the side, actually worried that Shannon was ready to come undone.
Taylor caught her arm, holding her in place and pinning her with a confused look. "But why? I don't get it."
"There's nothing to get. I'm just—I don't know if I can do this anymore."
"But why?"
"Because I'm tired."
"We're all tired, Sammie. You don't see anyone else saying they're going to quit." Taylor pointed behind her, but the gesture was empty—they were the only three in the room.
Sammie should have never said anything. She wasn't even sure why she had. But she'd been thinking about it during the entire bus ride up to Philly, and instead of coming to any conclusions, she was more confused than ever. So she'd gotten dressed then dragged Taylor and Shannon to the small bathroom, needing to talk to someone.
That had been a mistake, because both women looked like they were ready to lose it, torn between confusion and anger and worry.
"I should have never said anything—"
"But you did. You can't just drop something like that on us and walk away." Taylor released her hold on Sammie's arm then started pacing around the small room. "What happened? Why this change of heart all of a sudden?"
"It's not a change of heart. I don't want to quit. I just don't—"
"Fuck, Reigs. Out with it already. You're totally fucking with my mojo."
"What? How can I mess with your mojo—"
"OhmyGod, will you just answer the question already! What's going on? Where's this coming from?"
Sammie's gaze slid from Shannon to Taylor. "I told you, I'm tired."
"Yeah? And?"
"And…I don't know if I can keep this schedule up."
"What schedule? Practices? Games? That's only three days a week."
"Yeah. And then there's work. I have a full-time job, remember? And I'm a mom. I have to think about Clare."
"I thought part of the reason you were doing this was for Clare."
"I was. I am."
"Then what's the issue? What's really going on?"
Shannon leaned closer, her brows lowered in a scary frown. "Does this have something to do with your ex? Is that what this is about? Because I have no problem kicking his fucking ass."
"What? No. Jon wants me to keep playing." At least, Sammie thought he did, if his reaction this morning meant anything.
"Then what, exactly, is the issue? Because all of us work."
"Which totally fucking sucks, because you know if we were a men's team, we wouldn't—"
"Shannon! Not now!" Taylor turned back to Sammie. "Out with it. What else is going on?"
Sammie opened her mouth, closed it with a snap. How could she explain, when she didn't understand herself? It wasn't just because she was tired, she knew that much. And it wasn't just because she was worried about not spending enough time with Clare, although that played a huge part in her fears.
She dropped her gaze to the floor, unable to meet the gaze of the other women. "I'm not sure. I mean, I am tired. And yes, I know we all are. I know I'm not the only one with a full-time job. But I need to worry about Clare, too. What if I'm not spending enough time with her? Especially now that Jon's in the picture and spending so much time with her."
The words echoed off the cracked tile of the dirty floors and walls, bouncing around them. Sammie kept staring at the floor, waiting for the other two women to say something. To sympathize. To give her words of encouragement. To commiserate.
Something.
All she heard was silence.
Sammie finally lifted her head then jerked back in surprise, hitting her elbow against the edge of the sink. Shannon and Taylor were staring at her, but not in sympathy.
Not even close.
"You're jealous."
"What? I am not."
"You are, too. You're fucking jealous."
"I think Shannon's right."
"No. No way." Sammie shook her head so fast, her vision spun. She stopped, blinked, waited for her vision to clear, then denied it again. "No. I am not jealous. There's nothing to be jealous of."
"That's exactly what you are. You don't want to share Clare with him."
"Don't be ridiculous." No. They were both crazy. This had nothing to do with Jon.
Did it?
No, it didn't. It couldn't.
Could it? Was she really that petty?
"I think it does. I mean, this wasn't even an issue until a few weeks ago. Isn't that when he started spending time with Clare?"
"Yeah, maybe. But that doesn't mean—"
"That's exactly what it means. Face it, Reigs. You're used to having Clare all to yourself. You don't want to share her."
"Share her? Shannon, she's my daughter. Not some kind of toy. And—"
"Whatever." Shannon waved a hand, brushing her off. "You get my point. And it's stupid."
"How can you say it's stupid? She's my daughter!"
"It's not stupid." Taylor shot a meaningful glance at Shannon then turned back to Sammie. "But Shannon has a point. You're not used to having anyone else in Clare's life."
"That doesn't mean anything." And it didn't. It absolutely didn't mean anything.
Except she was afraid it did. And oh God, what kind of mean, smallminded person did that make her?
"It's not a big deal."
"Shannon—"
"And I have the perfect solution." Shannon talked right over Sammie, ignoring her objections and Taylor's wild gesturing. "Just move in with him."
Startled silence settled over the small room—not just from Sammie, but from Taylor, too. But Taylor recovered quicker than Sammie.
"Are you out of your freaking mind?"
"No. Why would you say that?"
"Because he's her ex-husband, that's why! On what planet does that even make sense?"
Shannon brushed Taylor's objections off then turned to Sammie. "You're sleeping with him, right?"
"I—no." Sammie stopped shaking her head when Shannon shot her a disbelieving glare. "One time. That was it. It didn't mean anything."
"OhmyGod, Sammie! Why didn't you say something?"
"Really? It didn't mean anything?"
Sammie looked back and forth between her two teammates, trying to figure out who to answer first. Shannon was the bigger threat. "No, it didn't. It just…kind of happened."
"Uh-huh. And how many other men have you been with in the last two years?"
"That doesn't—"
"How many?"
Sammie narrowed her eyes, thought about not answering…and realized that wasn't an option, not with the way Shannon was staring at her. "None."
"Yet you slept with your ex. What does that tell you?"
"Nothing. And what does any of this have to do with what we were talking about?"
"Everything, that's what. You think you're missing out on spending time with Clare because she's spending time with your ex. You're already sleeping with him—"
"It was one time—"
"So just move in with him. Problem solved."
"Why would I move in with him?"
/>
"Because you still love him. Duh."
Sammie stared at Shannon in open-mouth shock, her mind completely blank. She had no idea what to say, how to respond. That was—
"That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. Where did that come from? I mean, seriously. How does that mind of yours even work?"
"Oh please. You know it's true. Look at her!" Shannon waved a hand in Sammie's direction. "She still loves him. You know it. I know it. And she knows it, too—she just hasn't admitted it to herself yet."
"I can't." Sammie's denial fell from lips that felt oddly numb. "I don't even trust him!"
"Let me ask you something." Shannon's voice softened, understanding and insight flashing in her eyes. "Where's Clare now?"
"With Jon. But that doesn't mean—"
"You wouldn't leave her with someone you don't trust."
"That's not the same thing—"
"Yeah, keep telling yourself that. I know better. And so do you." Shannon tapped her on the head the three times with her knuckles. "Now I have to go do extra work on my mojo, try to get it back after this little interruption."
Sammie opened her mouth—to disagree, to complain about being knuckled, to say something about Shannon's mojo. She never got the chance because the door swung open and Coach Reynolds stormed in, pinning all three of them in place with her furious gaze.
"Is there something going on in here I need to know about?"
"No, Coach."
"Then is there a reason the three of you are in here, instead of out on the ice, warming up?"
"No—"
"Reigs was talking about quitting."
"Shannon!" Taylor hissed her name, shot an apologetic look at Sammie. "Coach, it's not—"
"Wiley and LeBlanc. Out. Now."
Shannon and Taylor hesitated, glanced at Sammie, then hurried from the room. Coach Reynolds moved in front of the door, her dark eyes studying Sammie. Judging. Weighing. Sammie shifted under the scrutiny, forced herself not to look away.
"You quitting, Reigler?"
Was she?
The answer came to her immediately. No, she wasn't quitting. Taylor was right, she had worked too hard for this. All of them had. She didn't want to quit. And quitting wouldn't help with the real issue, now that Shannon had—in typical Shannon-fashion—tossed the real issue straight into Sammie's face.
She straightened, shook her head. "No, Coach."
"Then get your ass out to the ice where you belong. Now."
"Yes, Coach."
Chapter Twenty-Five
"You know we only won yesterday because I was able to fix my mojo."
Sammie snorted her disbelief. "Yeah, okay."
"No, seriously. It is."
"If you say so."
"Of course I say so. It had nothing to do with your fucking goal."
"Shannon! Watch your language?"
"What? It's not like there's anyone here." She waved her hand, the motion taking in the empty concourse where they were set up to sign autographs. The Blades had done their ten-minute scrimmage during the Banners' first intermission, then come out here for the meet-and-greet afterward. Four tables had been set-up in different sections, and Sammie was sitting with Shannon, Dani, and Taylor.
But the game had started again, and the small crowd that had come out to see them had disappeared—along with Taylor, who had made some excuse about getting something to drink. That had been almost fifteen minutes ago, and she still wasn't back.
And the concourse wasn't completely empty— a few fans were walking around, their hands filled with trays weighed down with soda and beer and nachos. But for the most part, they had the concourse to themselves. Fans were either in the stands, cheering for the Banners as they played against Vegas, or sitting at home, watching the game on television because of the weather.
Sammie glanced out the large window to her left, frowning at the snow falling and blowing and covering the sidewalks and street. The forecasters had been calling for a light dusting, but they had surpassed that over an hour ago. Sammie hoped it stopped, soon, before they left, because she hated driving in the snow.
"So yeah, us winning yesterday had nothing to do with your goal." Shannon kept talking as she doodled on a flyer advertising the Blades' upcoming games. "Even if it was abso-fucking-lutely beautiful."
Sammie slid down in the metal chair and fiddled with the marker in her hand. "It was pure dumb luck, and you know it."
And it had been. Sammie had been covering one of Philly's players, sticking to her like glue to prevent a pass. The player who had possession of the puck either didn't see Sammie, or had decided to pass it anyway. Or maybe it had been nothing more than a mistake. It didn't matter, because the puck had landed against Sammie's tape with beautiful precision, just begging her to take control.
After a split-second of hesitation—because she couldn't believe what just happened—she finally spun around and took off, never looking back, bracing herself for a hit or a trip or something. And then she was there, in front of the net, just her and Philly's goalie. She almost took the straight shot, had actually pulled back with her stick. But she saw their goalie move at the last second to block it, watched in disbelief as the woman slid out of position. Sammie shifted right, moved closer, and buried the puck into the back of the net.
Her first goal of the season.
It didn't register at first, even as she stood there, watching the red light flash above the net. It wasn't until Taylor and Dani and Sydney and Rachel had come up to her, slapping her on the back and tapping her on the head, that she finally realized what she'd done.
She had scored!
And it wasn't just her first goal of the season—it had been the game-winning goal, too.
"Dumb luck or not, it was still a beautiful shot. And the look on your face. That was priceless." Dani shook her head, laughing. "We really need to see if we can get a still from the video and have it printed."
Sammie cringed. They had watched some of the video saved from the live stream on the bus ride back home. The angle had been from directly behind the net and showed her standing there, the mouthpiece dangling from her open mouth and the stick dangling from her loose fingers. She had looked totally and completely stunned—and not in a good way. "No, we don't. Really."
"But it's a beautiful shot!"
"Holy crappola, it is not! I looked stupid."
"Not stupid. Stupefied, maybe, but not stupid."
"Oooo, good one, Baldwin." Shannon nudged Dani in the side, snorting. Sammie rolled her eyes, ready to tell them both they were crazy, but a small family approached the table—a mom and dad and two kids, obviously brother and sister. The girl, maybe six or seven years old, bounced up to Shannon with a wide smile that showed a gap from a missing tooth. She held a Blades jersey with Shannon's last name screen-printed across the back.
"I'm going to be a goalie, too!"
Sammie bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing at the shocked expression that crossed Shannon's face. The woman was stunned speechless, her mouth hanging slightly ajar. Dani smothered her own laugh and pushed away from the table, easing behind the family and snapping a picture with her phone.
Shannon blinked, recovering enough to shoot Dani a warning glance, then leaned across the table toward the little girl. "That's awesome because goalies totally rock."
"I know!" The girl bounced up and down, looked over her shoulder, then pushed the jersey across the table toward Shannon with a shy look. "I want to be just like you when I grow up. That's why I have your jersey. Can you sign it for me please?"
The hero worship on the little girl's face made Sammie's heart melt. And hers wasn't the only one. Dani clapped a hand over her mouth, smothering her whispered "Aww."
But it was Shannon who surprised her the most. The normally tough-as-nails, mouthy, opinionated woman sat there with tears in her eyes, looking like she was ready to turn into a puddle of gooey emotion. Sammie blinked, wondering if she was simply imagining it
. No, she wasn't. Shannon was totally floored by the little girl staring up at her with hero-worship in her eyes, waiting for her to sign the jersey.
And waiting some more…
Sammie kicked Shannon under the table, swallowing another laugh when she jerked back in surprise. Shannon blinked, shook her head, then reached for the jersey.
"That's awesome. Of course, I'll sign it." Shannon smoothed the jersey on the table in front of her and reached for a marker, then signed her name with a flourish, a big grin on her face the entire time. The little girl jumped up and down again then tugged the jersey over her head.
"Can I get my picture, too?"
"Absolutely!" Shannon's grin grew even wider as she pushed away from the table then stood next to the little girl, bending down and draping her arm over her thin shoulders.
"Oh hey, hang on a second." Shannon moved toward her gear bag behind the table, reached down and grabbed her stick. "Every goalie needs a good stick, right?"
The girl's mouth dropped open, the hero-worship growing brighter in her eyes as she reached for the stick that was at least twice her size. Shannon grabbed the marker, signed her name on the blade, then posed for another picture.
The girl's younger brother, obviously annoyed at being left out for so long, made a loud huffing sound and crossed his thin arms in front of him. "That's just stupid. Girls can't be goalies. They can't even play hockey."
The parents gasped, the mother reaching for the little boy as she tried to apologize. Shannon's eyes narrowed as she leaned down, no doubt ready to open her mouth and let loose with a verbal tirade she wouldn't be able to take back. Sammie thought about vaulting over the table to stop her but there was no way she'd be able to move that fast. And Dani was too far away—
"I wouldn't be so sure of that. Have you ever seen these ladies play? Because I have, and I wouldn't mind having them on my team." The deep voice drifted over the small crowd, leaving stunned silence in its wake. Sammie looked over, staring at the newcomer in surprise.
Tall, with dark hair and piercing green eyes and a crooked smile that hinted at a dimple in his right cheek. An expensive black suit draped his body, tailored to fit broad shoulders and lean waist and strong, muscular legs. One of his legs was bent at the knee, his foot encased in a soft cast. The man's hands curled around the handles of the two crutches braced under his arms, supporting him.
Loving Hard: A Chesapeake Blades Hockey Romance (The Chesapeake Blades Book 2) Page 17
