A Perfect Distraction(70)
“Okay,” Tracy acquiesced. The conviction in Maggie’s voice must have got through to her sister. “But I still say there’s some truth behind the story.”
Though Maggie knew in her heart the story couldn’t be true, a tiny part of her—the part honed by too many lies—worried her sister might be right.
There wasn’t smoke without fire. She hoped whatever the fire was, Jake had a really good explanation for it. Otherwise, she’d put her trust, and her heart, in the hands of the wrong kind of bad boy all over again. This time, she didn’t think either would recover.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“SCORE A GOAL for us next time.”
Ike’s disgust made Jake pedal harder on the stationary bike.
The postgame cooldown was no haven tonight. They’d lost and he’d played the worst game of his career. It was his own fault. His mind hadn’t been on the ice but back in New Jersey, worrying about what would happen when Maggie saw the story of last night’s mess.
Tru intervened. “We all have bad games.”
“I don’t.” Jake cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, guys. Coach.”
“Wouldn’t be linked to these headlines, would it?” Max shoved his iPad onto the handlebars. “I don’t mean the crap about some NHL star using steroids. Drugs sure as hell haven’t enhanced your performance.”
The story was all over the hockey websites. Damn. Frank had already begun bragging.
“Uh, Coach...”
Jake cut JB off with a glare. He hadn’t protected the kid to have him blow it apart. “The guy was a jerk.” He tried to sound cocky. “No way I’d hit on his wife. Look at her.”
The coach wasn’t fooled. “This little party must have broken curfew.”
He couldn’t deny that. “It won’t happen again.”
“Veterans like you should set a good example, not break the rules.”
Hell. Was he going to be benched? It was one thing to ride the pine when your play sucked—there was no denying his had tonight—but it was something different when you were taking the blame for someone else’s idiocy.
Worse, he hated seeing the coach’s disappointment in him. He respected Max. They all did. He’d been a hell of a defenseman in his day and had earned his stripes behind the bench with two Stanley Cup rings to his credit.
Max crooked a finger at Jake and Tru. “You two. Outside. Now.”
They exchanged uneasy glances as the coach stalked out.
“Bad Boy?” Concern was etched on Jean-Baptiste’s face.
“It’ll be cool. His bark’s worse than his bite,” he reassured the kid. “Never again, right?”
JB nodded. This was a good lesson for the rookie. One that had better stick.
Max stood by the laundry room. “Inside.”
Once he’d closed the door, the coach grunted, “You gonna tell me what happened?”
“What do you mean?” Tru asked cautiously.
“I’m not an idiot,” Max growled. “This is a bunch of crap. You know why?”
Jake shook his head.
“I checked you out before I agreed to bring you into the Cats. Wanted to be sure you wouldn’t be a problem, given all the press. Know what I found out?”
Unsure how to answer, Jake shook his head again.
“First, you don’t break curfew. Never have.” The coach jabbed his finger in Jake’s chest. “Second, you don’t fight off-ice. On top of that, I know that you ordered room service at eight and made a phone call at eleven-thirty. Do I need to continue?”
Stunned, Jake shook his head for a third time, feeling like a damn bobblehead doll.
“Larocque wasn’t in his room at curfew. What did he do?”
They had to come clean. “You’re right.”
He and Tru explained, including how Mad Dog and Blake had risked their own necks to rescue JB. Jake finished by telling him their solution.
The coach raised an eyebrow. “I’m still punishing him. JB needs to know he can’t disregard rules.”
“Fair enough.”
Max pointed to Tru. “Get cleaned up. I need to talk with Bad Boy.”
What about? Jake’s stomach tightened.
Once Tru had gone, the coach said, “Clear your head of whatever the hell is bugging you by the time we hit the ice again, or you’re in the press box. Got it?”
“Definitely.”
On the way home, the worries that had plagued Jake throughout the game resurfaced. Would Maggie see beyond the story to the truth? Would she believe in Jake, as Max had, or in Bad Boy’s reputation? He wanted to trust her, but deep in his gut he couldn’t help doubting.
Dreading Maggie’s reaction had made him a step too slow on every move and take a second too long on every decision. He’d played like crap. Again.