Play With Me (Playing For Keeps Book 2)

GARRETT

Carter hasn’t answered his phone in six days.

Six fucking days.

On the fourth day, Jennie gave up. She cried and she got angry. She sat by herself on the couch and said she wanted to be alone, and she curled into my side and asked me not to let go.

Every time Jennie closed her eyes and drifted to sleep, I called him.

But if Carter Beckett isn’t answering his sister’s phone calls, he’s sure as hell not answering the calls of the guy who’s fucking her.

Because that’s all Carter thinks this is. He thinks I see Jennie as an opportunity, easy access four floors below. He thinks I would lie, throw away years of friendship over a piece of ass.

He doesn’t see the commitment, the love, the fucking endless, earth-shattering friendship we’ve built, poured all of ourselves into in order to build the trust, to overcome every obstacle, to help each other be better on our own so we can be better together. He doesn’t see that I can’t imagine my life with anyone other than Jennie by my side.

If he’d just pick up his goddamn phone and listen, he’d know.

I keep telling Jennie he just needs time, but I don’t know how much more distance she can take. The longer he’s silent, the more Jennie thinks he’s never coming back.

We had a plan, but if life has taught me anything, it’s that nothing ever goes to plan. Almost everything goes to shit.

I guess that’s not entirely true. Because life gave me Jennie, and Jennie gave me life.

But I’m running out of ideas. I don’t know how to get Carter to listen, to just give us a damn chance to explain that we never meant for any of this to happen. I sure as hell didn’t imagine she’d sweep into my life and become my best friend, my favorite person, in such a short time. Only she did. She’s mine, and I’m hers. I think that’s the way it was always meant to be.

I’m not going to let her be just my Sunday night anymore. I want her to be my sleepy Monday morning, my thank-fuck-it’s-Friday, my stay-in-bed Saturday, and all the other days too. I’m not going to force myself to live without the brightest spot in my world.

I pull into my parking space at the arena, then sigh down at my phone, the text message from Olivia that asks if Jennie’s actually sick or if she just doesn’t want to see her right now. When I tell her she’s not, in fact, sick, she replies that she’ll send Cara over to drag her out by her hair.

I appreciate the tenacity of those two, that they rarely let Jennie hide, not that she often tries. They’re patient with her while also knowing when she needs a bit of a shove to get her ass in gear.

She’s allowed to be upset. It’s a testament to how passionately she loves her people. But I need her to remember that it’s not her brother who fills her life with people who love her. It’s her.

The halls are relatively quiet for a pregame, but I’m here early. Carter hasn’t played all week, instead tending to Olivia after the accident. He can avoid my phone calls, but he can’t avoid me here now that he’s back.

I drop my things in the locker room and head off in search of Carter. I find him in our head coach’s office, lounging in one of the chairs across from the desk, munching on an apple. When he stands, Coach’s gaze flicks to me, and something about it makes my skin itch with uncertainty.

I’ve always been a good player. I’m not a troublemaker, I don’t take stupid penalties, and I’m nice to everyone. I do what I’m told, because I don’t see any reason not to, and I leave any personal shit in the change room and give it my all every night on the ice.

I tuck my hands into my pockets as Carter opens the door, his expression unfazed.

“Uh, hey,” I start cautiously. “I was hoping we could—”

“Oh good. You’re here. We need to talk.”

“Yeah, talking would be great. That’s what I was hoping for.”

I make to head back to the change room, but Carter remains in the doorway. He gestures inside with the tilt of his head.

“Oh. Okay.” I step inside, swallowing at the uneasy gaze Coach gives me, sparked with sympathy. It makes my hands clammy, and I wipe them on my pants before taking a seat. “What’s going on?”

Coach taps his pen against his desk. “We’re going to try you on the second line tonight.”

“The second line?” I look to Carter, his eyes cool and distant. “But I…I always play with you and Em. On the first line.”

“We think this would be for the best,” Carter says simply.

Irritation squeezes my lungs. “We, or you?”

“You haven’t been playing your best.” Bullshit.

“We’re trying to avoid any tension that might affect the rest of the team and the game,” Coach explains.

“We’ll re-evaluate next game, Andersen.”

Anger sears through me. I give him a clipped nod before heading for the door. “Yes, Captain.”

I play like fucking shit. I’m a first-string player for a reason, and I’ve earned my spot on my team’s starting lineup. Carter and Emmett and I have been playing together for years. We’re in sync on the ice, fluid, like we can hear each other’s thoughts. I’m too fast for the second line. Thinking too far ahead of them. We don’t jive the way I do with Carter and Emmett, and by the time the buzzer sounds at the end of the third period, even though we’ve won, I’m negative three in points, my worst game of the season.

“Tough game,” Carter says as he clomps by on his skates, whipping his helmet off. “Might need to keep you back for a while.”

It’s after ten p.m. when I climb into my car, and I drop my face to my hands as the heat blasts, warming the confined space.

This is such a fucking clusterfuck, the word itself doesn’t feel clusterfuckery enough. I don’t know who’s going to be more pissed about Carter shoving me down the line, me or Jennie. Or Olivia. For a tiny, pregnant woman, she can be scary as fuck, nearly as scary as Cara. And Jennie.

Fuck, I’m surrounded by so many scary, powerful women.

When I sync my phone to my car, a text message pops up from my dad, asking me to call. A month ago, it would’ve been unusual. I think my dad sort of thrived off our distance when I left Nova Scotia. Maybe he let go of some of the guilt he was carrying because I wasn’t there as a constant reminder of his mistakes. But the physical distance made the emotional distance grow, and I was lucky to get a good game text.

Granted, it’s only been three weeks, but he’s been different since his near relapse. I can see the effort he’s putting in, not only with me but with himself. There’s a happiness radiating off him lately. Maybe, in a way, losing his job has been the best thing for him.

“Hey, Gare,” he greets happily, even though it’s after two in the morning on the east coast. “Tough game tonight, buddy. Take it Beckett’s still not hot on you dating his sister?”

“You guessed right.” I run a hand through my damp hair before fixing my toque back over my head. “What’s up? Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

“Probably. Guess I’m a little excited.”

“’Bout what?”

“I heard there’s a pretty great support program out your way. One of the best in the country, apparently.”

“Oh yeah?”

“And they’ve got this big steel factory over by Fraser River, looking for a crane operator.”

My heartbeat picks up. “What are you saying?”

There’s a moment of hesitation, but when my dad speaks next, all I hear is the enthusiasm, the bliss. “I’m saying I got a job, Garrett. I start end of April.”

“You’re…You guys are moving to Vancouver?”

“We’re doing it, Garrett. We’re moving to Vancouver.”

My condo is warm when I step inside, dimly lit by the glow above the stove.

Jennie does that. She notches the heat up a couple degrees before she goes to bed if she knows I’m getting in late so the floors will be warm on my feet when I come in from the cold and kick my shoes off. That way, I’m nice and toasty when I climb into bed and wrap my body around hers.

The light above the stove is her too. She doesn’t want me to come home to darkness, and it reminds me of my mom, the way she started leaving the same light on when I started crawling out of bed in the middle of the night for a cup of water, continued to leave it on for those teenage years when I stumbled in well after curfew.

There’s a note on the kitchen counter scribbled in pink pen on a puppy sticky note, letting me know there’s dinner in the microwave, and I scarf it down faster than I’ve ever eaten, desperate to be with my person.

She’s curled up on my side of the bed, one hand between her cheek and my pillow, the other curled beneath her chin, chocolate waves scattered over her shoulders. She’s so beautiful it hurts to look at her, the sharp angle of her high cheekbones, the soft swell of her heart-shaped lips, the bottom one slightly fuller than the top. Her dark lashes rest against her flushed skin, and if you’re lucky to get as close as I am on a regular basis, you’ll be able to count the tiniest freckles that speckle the bridge of her nose.

My thumb traces the edge of her jaw, up her chin, following the curve of her mouth. When it swoops over her cheekbone, her lashes flutter, sleepy blue eyes blinking up at me.

“Hi, sunshine,” I whisper, and my heart thuds at the dimply smile she gives me.

Jennie peels back the covers, and I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of her in my bed, wearing nothing but my T-shirt. Her arms come around my neck, legs around my waist, and I scoop her up before I roll into the newly vacant spot and settle her on top of me.

She presses her palm to my heart. “I’m sorry the game didn’t go the way you wanted it to.”

I cover her hand with mine. “That’s okay. Did you at least have fun watching with Ollie and Cara?”

She doesn’t answer, and I know she didn’t go. I won’t push her.

After a moment, she asks, “Did Carter move you there? To the second line?”

“Yes.”

She tenses. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey.” Hooking a finger under her chin, I tip her face up. “It’s not your fault. It’s how he’s dealing with it right now, but it won’t be forever. Don’t apologize for somebody else’s decisions.”

It’s there, eating at her, the urge to argue with me, to say she’s the reason for not only this decision but for all of his decisions this week. Instead, she snuggles closer.

I twine her hair around my fingers. “Can I tell you something good?”

She gives me a bright smile. “I love good things.”

“My dad called after the game. He got a job.”

“Garrett! That’s amazing!”

“Mhmm. That’s not all though.” I trace the length of her nose with the tips of her hair, watching as it scrunches. “The job is here.”

“Oh my God.” She tears the blankets away and climbs to her knees, nearly hammering me in the junk in the process. “They’re moving to Vancouver? I get to meet your parents? Your little sisters? Oh my God! They’re gonna terrorize you on the daily, and I’m gonna help!”

Laughing, I reach around and give her butt a swift smack. “Give it a try and I’ll tie you to this bedpost.”

She rolls back into me, arms around my middle. “Note to self: help Garrett’s sisters terrorize him.” Her face nuzzles my chest as I turn off the lamp, the dark night settling around us. “I’m so happy for you, Garrett. You’re going to have your family here.”

Jennie drifts to sleep in my arms, and I know I already have my family right here.

But the feeling is short-lived, because when I wake up, my arms are alarmingly empty.

It’s not even seven in the morning, the ass crack of dawn just beginning its creep into the sky, and without Jennie clinging to my body, I’m cold. I toss on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, padding down the hallway, and stop short when I find her sitting beneath the window in the living room, clutching Princess Bubblegum, shoulders shaking with her quiet cries.

Jennie is a lot of things. She’s bold and loud, confident and fierce, quiet and soft. She’s strong and resilient, persistent. She’s got a big, sensitive heart that feels everything. But she’s not fragile. She fights for everything. She pushes herself and comes out on the other side, always, even if it takes time.

This version of her, so broken and lost, makes every inch of me ache for her. I don’t know how to make this better, and I hate the incompetency.

I go to her, pulling her into my lap, and she curls into me, trembling as she sobs.

“I hate this,” she weeps into my chest. “I hate this so much.”

“I know, baby.”

“I miss my brother. I miss—” Her mouth opens on a gasp that steals the breath from my own lungs. She clutches at her chest like the words hurt. “I miss my dad. I miss him so much, Garrett. Everything feels so heavy and dark.”

“Your brother and your dad both love you, Jennie. Carter will always be here for you.” I cover her heart with my hand. “And your dad will always be here. You’re never alone.”

“He’s so mad at me. What if he never forgives me?”

“Hey, look at me.” Cupping her face in my hands, I sweep at the tears that keep falling. “He’s going to forgive us. He’s going to see how much we love each other, and he’ll understand.”

“What if it’s not enough? What if he holds onto this for so long? What if I lose Olivia? Cara?” Her blue eyes flit between mine, doused in agony. “What if I lose my niece or nephew?”

“That’s not going to happen, Jennie. I promise you.”

She shakes her head, climbing to her feet. “You-you can’t promise that. You can’t, Garrett.”

“I absolutely can,” I tell her with certainty, following her. “I can, Jennie, because Olivia and Cara love you.”

She spins away, one hand on her forehead, the other on her hip, and her pink bunny falls to my rug. “They love me because of Carter. Because it’s convenient. That’s what I am, Garrett. Convenient.” She gestures toward the door. “Four floors below you, how much more convenient could I get.”

Darkness curls inside me. “Don’t you fucking say that. I love you for who you are, not because of your brother, and sure as shit not because you live four floors below me. You could take that job in Toronto and I’d still love you, and I’d keep loving you for the rest of my life. Because I love you, Jennie.”

“Do you even know who I am? You love the confident me. The snarky comebacks and the bold girl who says everything that comes to her mind. But what if this is me? What if this broken, shattered version is what’s real?”

“You’re allowed to feel things, Jennie. You’re allowed to grieve. You’re allowed to be uncertain instead of confident. Those things don’t make you broken; they make you you.”

“None of you would have ever found me if it weren’t for Carter.”

My heart squeezes for her, the way she’s convincing herself that she’s losing more than just Carter, that without him, she has nothing to offer. How someone as self-assured as Jennie can, at times, be so unsure of what she brings to the table is gut-wrenching. I wish for five minutes she could see herself from everybody else’s eyes, see that even on her darkest days, she’s always been enough, not just for us, but for herself.

Jennie’s always been like the sun rising after a black but starless night spent driving alone. You’re a little lost, a little off track, but you keep going, searching for that light, and when you find it, it shines so bright, guiding you home. But when she stops herself from shining, everything is bleak and gray, dull, like a foggy, misty morning in the middle of nowhere. When she stops herself from rising, I can’t find my way home. Not without her.

“So what?” I finally say. “Maybe we found you because of Carter. That doesn’t mean you’re not the reason we stay.”

Her gaze stays on mine for a quiet moment, like she’s weighing the truth behind my words. When I stop in front of her, her mouth opens, hanging there like she’s not sure if the next sentence is the right one to speak.

“Maybe I belong in Toronto.”

Panic knots in my stomach at the thought of losing her, but before I can say anything, she continues, broken.

“Maybe I have been standing in Carter’s shadow.”

“You shine way too fucking bright to stand in anyone’s shadow, Jennie.”

She blinks once, slowly, and tears cascade down her beautiful, heartbroken face. “I can start fresh. Maybe I’ll…Maybe I’ll learn to stand on my own. And you…You get your friends back, your team. You play the position you earned, the one you deserve, because I’m gone, and your family comes, too, and…” She sniffles, wiping the back of her wrist across her nose. “And everything is better.”

Fury climbs my chest like a vine, and I step into Jennie, gripping her jaw, keeping her gaze locked on mine.

“If you stay in Toronto, you do it for the right fucking reasons. You stay because you love it, because the job is your dream, more than owning your own studio, than teaching kids to love dance the same way you do. You stay because you feel at home there, and you fall in love with the city, and it feels wrong to be anywhere else. You don’t stay because you’re standing in someone’s shadow; you don’t even stand in your own. You don’t stay because your friends came from your brother. Those friends are the family that chose you, that keep choosing you, day in and day out. And you sure as shit don’t stay to learn to stand on your own, because you already fucking soar without anyone’s help.”

My pulse drums in my ears as she quivers, her fingers circling my wrists where I hold her. The depth in her eyes begs for understanding, for leniency, for fucking help.

“This thing you’re doing right here, trying to convince yourself that you don’t belong with the people who love you, it feels a whole fuckload like good-bye, Jennie, and I hate that. I won’t say good-bye to you.”

Her lips part on a cry as my mouth crashes down on hers, and she sinks against my chest as I haul her closer, where I think we both belong.

But her brain is muddled and her heart is tired, the same way mine were when I walked away from her three weeks ago, when I didn’t know which way to turn.

That’s why a half hour later, she promises she’ll be back, that it’s not good-bye when she presses her mouth to mine.

Yet good-bye is the last word that falls from her lips as she disappears with her bag over her shoulder and my heart on the floor.