“Are you lying to me?” I ask her.
“Yes,” she says with a smile. “But please…for me. Just go home and my dad will take good care of me. I’ll call you later.”
Gray stares at me, eyes pleading for me to let it go. For me to push her and our relationship back into the closet. My shoulders sag and I nod my head. “Fine. But will you stay with your father tonight?”
“Of course,” she says with a smile. “Now I’m going inside to get my purse. Let’s just pretend I’m giving you a kiss right now, okay?”
I can’t help but smile at her. “Okay.”
Brian and I watch as Gray disappears into the house. The silence becomes awkward but I refuse to budge. I want to at least see her off.
“Why would you give up your career?” Brian asks me out of the blue.
I turn to look at him. “Pardon?”
“Why would you retire? Best goalie in the league. A decorated league veteran. You can all but name your price next year and that doesn’t even include the endorsements that would come your way. You’ll be passing up millions and I want to know why.”
“I thought it was obvious,” I chide.
He waves an impatient hand. “Yeah…I heard your declaration of love. But that still doesn’t answer my question. It seems I heard my daughter say she loves you too. Why isn’t she the one giving up her career?”
My jaw sort of drops and I know I look like an idiot as I stare at him in astonishment. “You seriously can’t think that’s a valid option.”
Brian shrugs his shoulders. “Why not? If we’re all about equality, why are you the one giving up your career? Why shouldn’t she?”
I think about this for a moment. It’s a good question, I guess. Not one I really considered, but on its face, who’s to say whose career is more important? Mine or hers? One option is fair to one while being unfair to the other. Someone is going to suffer. Why is it me and not her?
“Because she deserves it more,” I tell Brian, knowing that’s the right answer.
He merely cocks his head in curiosity.
“She’s making history,” I explain. “Important history for women, showing the world there aren’t any gender barriers in this sport. I have two daughters, so I think you understand me when I say this is very important to me personally. This is important history for the Cold Fury. She’s offering a new business model that could help to create an indestructible championship team. I’m just a hot goalie. One who’s had his chance to make his mark on history. I’ve reached all my goals and Gray is just starting to seek hers out. She not only deserves this chance more than me, but this team deserves her vision more than they need me.”
I will look back on this moment and pinpoint it as the exact time when Brian Brannon became Ryker Evans’s number-one supporter for his daughter. I can see the pride and respect in his eyes from my answer. And relief. Relief in knowing his daughter now has someone who will put her first and who will take care of her the way he has all his life.
He reaches a hand out to me and I take it.
As we shake hands, his voice quakes. “Thank you for saving my daughter’s life. I’ll never be able to repay you, but trust me…I’ll be searching hard for a way.”
I release his hand and see Gray coming down the porch steps. Beautiful Gray with her head bandaged and her arm splinted. Telling a knife-wielding man to go fuck himself. Without taking my eyes off her, I tell him, “No need to thank me. Saving her was as much for me as it was for anyone.”
Chapter 28
Gray
The fact that we’re winning makes this easier.
It makes it easier because this is going to distract Ryker, and we have enough of a lead with under three minutes to go that if he lets a puck or two dribble in, they still can’t catch us. The score is 6–2, and even if this does distract Ryker, he’s so freaking great under pressure that this might enhance his skills.
My palms sweat as my I make my way down the arena steps as the game rages on down below me. Closer and closer I get to the ice, until I’m at the very first row, right behind the net.
Ryker’s back is to me, of course, and the jersey that I’m wearing right now is identical to his.
Black with the silver Cold Fury tornado on the front. The number 28 on the back.
I have a hat on because I don’t want to be recognized.
Yet.
The poster board I have in my hand is rolled up and secured with a rubber band. I make my way into the row, to the lone seat that’s right in the middle, directly behind the net. It’s been empty the entire game, as I’ve been in the owner’s box watching. I’ve been watching the clock ticking down more than the action, so very ready to get this over with.
The past two days have been a little surreal. My father took me to the hospital, where I received twelve stitches to the back of my head and the good news that my arm was not broken. It’s in nothing more than an Ace bandage, which only seems to make it hot and sweaty.
We made it back to my dad’s house just before midnight, where I called Ryker and we talked for a few minutes. He told me the eleven o’clock news had the story of the attack, but that the details were surprisingly minimal. Only that Gray Brannon had been attacked in her home and received minor injuries, and that the assailant was in custody.
The next morning, however, the real story—well, sort of the real story—hit the news early. The story had been fleshed out and it was now revealed that Gray Brannon had been attacked by Claude Amedee, a former player who had just been released. The reports were fuzzy, but it appeared she had been scheduled to have a meeting with her father and veteran goalie Ryker Evans to discuss a new charity campaign, and that Evans happened to show up fortuitously and stop the attack. He was being lauded as a hero, and there was not one hint that Ryker Evans and Gray Brannon were involved personally.