PLAYING HURT

Chase

Chicago

September

“See? Your fans haven’t forgotten you.”

Jordyn’s smile was summer sunshine and warmth. “I guess not. And . . .” She touched her champagne glass to mine. “Neither have yours.”

We sipped the bubbly wine, watching each other.

Yeah, we were celebrating. We were celebrating a whole bunch of things.

Jordyn’s album had dropped, and we’d just found out it had gone straight to number one on Billboard. Critics were praising the new sound. I picked up my phone and read a review I’d just found. “ ‘Ms. Banks’s songs are full of torchy longing and lush afterglow. She sings about a woman’s needs and choices, the power of temptation and the pleasure in giving in, delivered with her agile soprano without apology or shame. Her music draws R&B, dance grooves, reggae, and rock into its pop with skill and maturity beyond her years.’ ” I lowered my phone to meet her glowing eyes. “You’re going to get nominated for a whole bunch of awards again.”

She grinned.

My favorite song? “Chasing Dreams,” which she’d told me was about . . . me.

And training camp had started last week. I was feeling good. The relief of passing the pre-season physical and being on the ice and feeling strong and confident again was beyond words. No problems with my wrist whatsoever. I’d worked hard at rehab, and I’d worked hard at staying in shape over the summer.

Jordyn kept me from overdoing it though, and I did the same for her. We both felt we had a lot to prove—she had to prove she could still sing and create music. I had to prove I could still be an elite hockey player. But having each other’s backs made it so much easier. Knowing I had someone behind me who’d support me and love me no matter what—even if I screwed up, even if, God forbid, I couldn’t play hockey—took so much pressure off me. It meant everything to me. And Jordyn felt the same.

It hadn’t happened overnight. I had years of baggage to work through.

Jordyn and I had gone home to Sudbury (which Jordyn dubbed “the land of rocks and trees”) in the summer to visit my parents. With her support I thought I could forgive them and let go of some of the resentment and pain I still felt over how they’d acted. And maybe I was just less thin-skinned about it, but it seemed like they didn’t criticize me as much as I’d feared. They’d accepted my injury and the surgery I’d had, and Mom had even been sympathetic about it.

Now, every time I started beating myself up for falling short in some way, Jordyn was there to reassure me. Her forgiveness of me was an example of grace that I tried to follow by forgiving myself for not being perfect.

When she started getting too involved in others’ problems, which had happened when Brick and the girl he was dating started having issues, I’d reminded her how it affected people, and if she valued their respect and their relationship she needed to pull back. Sometimes these weren’t exactly easy conversations, but in the end, we trusted each other.

She’d been in Chicago for most of the last six months, recording her album in a studio here. She’d had to go back to L.A. a few times and I’d been able to go with her; I knew that wouldn’t always be the case and there were times we’d be apart. Which was why I’d asked her if she wanted me to talk to Steve about a possible trade to Los Angeles.

“No!” She’d stared at me with big eyes and an open mouth. “No, don’t do that! I can live here in Chicago.” And she’d told me how she’d been planning to record her album in Chicago before I messed things up. How she’d been thinking about how she could live in Chicago. So then I’d asked her to move in with me—so we’d be together as much as we could.

Today she’d found my stash of pictures of her. We’d had a laugh over them.

I set down my wineglass. “I had such a crush on you,” I admitted, pushing her hair off her face with both hands, eyes fixed on hers. “For a long time before we even met. Before we even tweeted. Jesus, that day you replied to my tweet I was totally jacked.”

“Really?”

“Is a frog’s asshole watertight?”

She laughed. “Is that why you bet me a date?”

“Yeah. I mean, I didn’t plan to do that. It just happened.”

Her smile reached deep inside me.

“But I didn’t even really know you,” I added. “I knew you were beautiful and sexy and talented. But now I know you better . . . and I know you’re a bit of a drama queen with a love of chocolate cherry chunk ice cream and a fear of fire, and you’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached to your body, and you like butting into people’s lives, but it’s only because you care with that great big heart of yours.”

She rolled her eyes, but still smiled.

“Every time we were together, I couldn’t believe I was with Jordyn Banks. I felt so goddamn lucky.”

“Well, I felt lucky too. And especially when I got another chance after turning you down for a second date. That was a mistake.”

“It really was.”

Her lips twitched. “I felt bad about it, because I did want to see you again. That first date . . . I had so much fun, and you made me feel so relaxed and . . . safe.”

“Safe?” I blinked.

“Yeah. Safe to just be myself.”

“Ah.” I nodded.

“I don’t feel that way with many people. Also, you made me, um, thirsty.”

I chuckled. “Oh hell yeah, me too, song girl. In fact, we should be celebrating in bed right now.” I pulled her into my arms and kissed her. The sparks were still there. In fact every day they got hotter, and having her love and trust and support only made me want her tight little body more. All the time. Always. Now.

I picked her up in my arms and she held on to me, smiling at me as I strode into our bedroom. I paused beside the bed with her in my arms. “When I said I felt lucky to be with you . . . I still do.”

Our eyes met and held. “I still do too.”

We’d both been playing hurt, and we were both comeback kids, determined to succeed, but now we were rooting for each other . . . even more than we were for ourselves.