Chapter 22—Drop Pass
The team plane left Seattle for Pittsburgh around noon on Sunday.
The guys avoided Drew on the long flight. Most pensively watched him from afar. He heard the murmurs. They were talking about Marina’s firing and how all the accompanying chaos would affect his game. The few who attempted to speak to him were driven back by a fierce glare even Coop and Smooth didn’t ignore.
Drew was grateful when they finally arrived at the hotel that evening. He went straight to his room, but hunger won out over solitude. He hadn’t felt like eating all day, and now his stomach protested loudly.
With a sigh, he rode the elevator to the deserted restaurant and found a private table. None of the guys were present; they’d eaten their meals together in a banquet room earlier in the evening.
He was miserable. Inconsolable. Broken-hearted. She didn’t believe in him enough to fight for him. Sad as it was, they were now free to see each other, but he’d wanted her to be all-in when things were difficult, not now that things were easy and nothing stood in their way. The next time things got tough, would she bail on him then, too?
Only there wouldn’t be a next time. He’d been close to giving up hockey for her, and she hadn’t felt the same way.
He looked up as a shadow darkened his menu. His mother smiled down at him. “Mind if I join you?”
“Does it matter if I do mind?”
“Not at all.” Cassandra slid into the booth seat across the table.
“I’m surprised to see you here.”
“You didn’t really think we’d miss watching you in the Finals, did you?”
He shrugged. “Dad’s here?”
“Of course. This is his shining moment, too.”
Drew frowned. “I’m playing for me, the team, and Seattle, and maybe a little bit for you, Dave, and Dad.”
“I understand. You’ve been hot these past several games.”
“Yeah, I owe a lot of that to Marina.” He waited for her to discount Marina’s part in his success. She didn’t.
“How’s that?” She studied him closely, her expression serious.
“She helped me find what was missing, made me feel again, gave me my love of life back. She’s opened my eyes to enjoying the simple things.”
“I’m happy for you, but I’m concerned about where she’s been coming from. She was your coach, and she was sleeping with you. Are you certain she wasn’t using you to her own ends?”
“We didn’t plan on falling in love. It just happened.”
“In love? Drew, being physical with someone and being in love are often confused.”
He shook his head. “I’m not a teenager. Don’t put words in my mouth. I was in love with her. I was happy to be with her. Just be, not talk or anything else, but be in each other’s presence. When I wasn’t with her, life felt—feels—so empty and meaningless.”
“Drew.” She reached out a hand to touch his arm, but he jerked back.
“Someone followed us. Took those pictures. Did you do that? Did Dad?”
“I would never do something like that. Your father wouldn’t, either.” His mother had a good poker face, but Drew knew her better than most. She was lying. She hadn’t done it, but his father had.
“I fucking can’t believe Dad set us up.”
“If he did, and I’m not saying he did anything of the sort, it would be to prevent you from making a life-changing mistake.”
“You messed with my private life. You and Dad messing with my career is one thing, but to mess with the people in my life is entirely another and not acceptable.”
His mother’s eyes narrowed, giving him that “Mom” look which always set him back on his heels. “Drew, I’m going to guess you’re the only person in America who hasn’t heard the latest gossip surrounding Marina?”
“What gossip? There’s more? I’ve been on a plane for hours. My phone’s been turned off.” He put down his fork and pushed his plate to the middle of the table, no longer hungry even though he’d only eaten a few bites.
“It appears everything was just a ploy to get her own reality show. Skating through Life or something ridiculous like that.”
“No,” he said with way more despair than he planned on revealing to his mother. “That can’t be true.”
“It is. She signed a contract with some broadcasting company, and they announced it this morning. Obviously, her time with you and the Sockeyes was carefully thought out to maximize her exposure. She sucked us all in. Even I believed she’d changed.” Cassandra had gone into mother bear mode, and not even the roughest, toughest hockey player Drew knew would mess with her when she got like this.
“I don’t believe it. I need to talk with her.”
“Call her then. I bet you’ve already tried, and she doesn’t return your calls.”
“Actually, somewhat the opposite. I’m not returning her calls.” Not that there were many. In typical Marina fashion, she gave up after a few calls. Just like she’d given up and gone to Europe. But she hadn’t always been like this, a small voice inside him pointed out. She skated in the Olympics after losing her parents. Everyone knew that story.
The Marina he’d fallen in love with wouldn’t capitalize on their relationship and her notoriety by selling out to a reality show. She just wouldn’t.
What if he was wrong? Because if he was, the Marina he thought he knew didn’t exist.
* * * *
Drew was a glutton for punishment. As soon as he got back to his room, he Googled Marina and reality show, and the hits started rolling. A brief perusal had him pacing the floor. It was true. The production company had issued a statement a few hours ago regarding their new reality show to air in the fall. The first episode would include private footage of Marina and him skating their routine together and frank discussions about her time with the Sockeyes and their beleaguered star—their words not his.
She’d sold them all out. Not just him, but the team, the staff, everyone.
He was sick about it. He’d been certain he’d known the real her. Fuck, he’d fallen in love with Marina, and he didn’t fall easily. He’d been played, duped, and destroyed by a woman out for fame and fortune, and to hell with his feelings. All the awful things that’d circulated about her since the Games appeared to be true.
Drew debated late into the night about calling Marina and finding out why she’d done it, but he never called her. He was afraid he wouldn’t like her answer. Or wouldn’t believe her. If she called him again, he’d answer, but she didn’t, which solidified her guilt as far as he was concerned.
He finally fell asleep at dawn with no resolution to his dilemma. He was jerked awake by the ringing of both the hotel phone and his cell, along with pounding on the door.
He opened the door to a furious Cooper. The captain loomed in the doorway, hands fisted, eyes blazing, and every inch of his body rigid with fury.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? We’re all waiting on the bus to go to the arena, and you’re still in bed?” Coop was in a rage like Drew had never seen except against an opposing team member who’d wronged one of his guys.
“Shit.” Drew glanced at the clock. Ten fifteen in the morning. The bus left at ten. Breakfast had been at eight thirty. “I’ll be right there.”
“You’d better.” Coop turned and stomped off. Drew ran around the room getting dressed and ignoring the jangling phone, knowing whoever was on the other end would be delivering their own brand of ass-chewing. He sprinted down the hall to an elevator, which took a couple lifetimes to arrive on his floor. When he boarded the bus, instead of ribbing by the guys, the group grew silent and stared accusingly at him. He slid into an empty seat next to Gibs, who turned his back and studied his tablet.
Drew heard the grumbled comments, certain many were meant for his ears.
“No dedication.”
“Doesn’t care about hockey.”
“Dragging us all down with him.”
“Lazy, unmotivated asshole.”
“Fucking selfish sap too worried about his love life.”
He wasn’t going to win any Teammate of the Year awards. They hated him right now. They were playing in one of the biggest games of their lives tonight, and he’d blown them off as if they didn’t matter. He hadn’t meant to, but even he admitted his head wasn’t in the right place. The way they saw it, he was a traitor.
You were only as good as your next game, and he had a bad feeling about Game 1 against the Penguins.