Scored (V-Card Diaries 1)

I set my beer down and lean forward, my hands clasped together. “Should I set up a meeting with management? Try to talk it out? Convince them I can bring the team around by the end of the camp?”

“No, you can’t,” he says. “I’m not supposed to speak a word about this to anyone outside the inner circle. I could get in big trouble if they find out I leaked anything to you. But you’re my best friend and you’ve worked so hard to help build this team. The Possums wouldn’t be worth fighting for without you. I thought you should know where things stand so you can make the decision that’s best for you. It might not be too late to switch things up, find something better. And my gut says they’d let you go without a fight. They respect you and your salary is one of the larger ones, so…”

I let out a long, weary breath, shocked by the misery flooding through me. I’ve already been considering what he’s saying—I even set up a meeting with my agent for next Monday to discuss my options—but now that leaving New York is an even more likely possibility…

“I didn’t realize how much I wanted to stay,” I mutter.

Derrick’s shoulders hunch closer to his ears. “Yeah, me either. I’m sorry about last Friday. I was out of line. I shouldn’t have yelled at you or Evie like that. It was uncalled for.”

I look up, guilt mixing with the misery pumping through my veins. “Don’t worry about it. I know you were just trying to look out for her. But I would never hurt Evie or put her in danger. I care about her. A lot.”

“I know you do,” he says, “but that’s the one thing I promised myself I would never fuck up, Ian. That I would always watch out for her and take up the slack for our shitty parents.” He glances up, an uncertainty in his gaze that isn’t like him. “But I don’t know if I’ve pulled it off. She’s still so…”

“So what?” I finally ask, torn between being there for Derrick and the knowledge that Evie could be hearing every word of this conversation.

Hopefully she’s out of earshot, but I can’t know that for sure.

“So young, so naïve,” he says. “Childlike in a lot of ways. I don’t know, maybe I did the wrong thing by protecting her the way I have. Sometimes I worry that if something happened to me, she wouldn’t be okay and that’s…scary.”

“I don’t think that’s the case, Derrick,” I say, my stomach going sour as I tread into even trickier territory. “As far as I can tell, she has her shit together better than most people in their early twenties. She was great with the team yesterday.”

He tips his beer back, making a non-committal sound.

“And she kicked us both out of her apartment last Friday with a firm hand,” I remind him. “I’d say she’s doing just fine.” I reach for my bottle, spinning it to the right, leaving a wet trail on the marble top. “It’s the pair of us we need to worry about. What are your plans? If they do end up selling, I’m sure a management shake-up is inevitable.”

“No clue.” He drains the last of his beer and sets the empty down with a sharp click. “I have a couple of options, but I don’t want to give up on the Ice Possums yet. Landing this job straight out of college and knowing I was going to get to work with my best friend…it was one of the best days of my life.”

I nod, defeat slumping my own shoulders. “Yeah. Me, too. It was all our high school dreams coming true.”

Derrick’s lips curve into a crooked smile. “Except in the original dream, I was good enough to play for the NHL, too.” He huffs. “High school me would never believe I’m actually happier in management.”

“And your head would have exploded by now if you’d been forced to deal with all the bullshit on the ice the past few years. Or you would have been arrested for murder.”

Derrick laughs. “Murder for sure. The first time Pete and Sven started hitting each other instead of the other team, I would have knocked their heads together and let them bleed out on the ice.” He lets out a soft growl of frustration. “Where’s their sense of loyalty? Players used to fight to stand up for our own. That’s the world I want to live in. Not this free-for-all bullshit.” He exhales another weary sigh and lifts his beer, frowning as he studies the empty bottle. “You want to grab another somewhere? I know you’re not supposed to be drinking during camp, but…”

“Actually, I should jump in the shower and get to bed soon,” I say. “Big day tomorrow. But I’ll take a rain check. Maybe Saturday night?”