Gametime: A Moo U Hockey Romance Jami Davenport (best summer reads of all time .txt) 📖

injury ended my career. He learned that slapshot from me.” Our father inserted himself into the conversation. Ice, Smooth, and Coop glanced at him, then dismissed him, as if he were insignificant. Just like I’d been dismissed so many times by that man. I mused as to whether or not they’d done any research regarding my dysfunctional relationship with my father and were making known whose side they were on. I’d done a lot of research on my future team. Ice had a more abusive childhood than I’d ever dreamed of having, culminating in his father being convicted of murdering his mother. It didn’t get worse than that.

Cooper Black was my idol. I’d watched thousands of hours of his games in an attempt to absorb everything he did and how he did it. Like his nickname, Smooth made playing hockey look effortless, even though I knew the effort he expended to play at his level. And Ice, he was legendary as a defenseman. I’d love to go up against him someday. And that someday might be sooner than I’d ever imagined.

“Do you do this often?” Naomi asked. “I mean visit with prospects?”

“Sometimes. When the timing works out, which is rare. We firmly believe in the team as family, and we want the right family members. These types of conversations give us a good feel for future teammates and how they’d fit into our current slate of players. Coach Gorst specifically requested we pay you a visit as an added incentive to encourage you to go pro next season. The window of opportunity is open but those slots fill quickly.” Coop swished his whiskey around in his glass and met my gaze. I didn’t look away. They were probing for weakness, and I refused to show them any.

“We won’t guarantee you’ll make the team next fall, but you have as good of a shot as any of our rookies. Judging by how you’re playing right now, the odds are in your favor if you hold it together.” Smooth was matter-of-fact, not sugarcoating my chances, while Ice sat back, arms crossed over his chest, and watched us interact. He wasn’t drinking anything stronger than water, I noted.

I sipped my own beer, not wanting to appear like some drunken college boy. I chanced a glance at my brother. He observed everything with an unreadable expression on his face, but I knew him better than anyone. He was tense and upset, and probably even more upset with himself because my being in the limelight bothered him. Patrick was a great guy, an awesome brother, and I loved that guy. We were in a rough patch right now as we both struggled with change, but we’d find our way back to being best friends. I’d bet my favorite pair of skates on it.

“What can I do to prepare?” I asked.

The three men exchanged glances, secretly communicating as they once had when they played on the same line.

Ice was the current team captain, and they deferred to him. “You’re young. What are you? Twenty-one?” His gaze fell on the beer I was about to lift to my lips.

I set down the beer without taking a sip. “Yes, I’m twenty-one.”

Patrick leaned forward, eager to hear their words of wisdom. Even my dad shut his mouth and paid attention.

“All right then. At your age, if you want to have a successful professional career, you have to be in this one hundred and fifty percent. All hockey, all the time. Cut partying to a minimum. Cut out any drama that detracts from your game. Keep personal relationships out of your professional life. Hockey can be all-consuming, and at your age, where you are right now, it has to be. Your personal life needs to take a back seat until you’ve established yourself as an invaluable member of the team.” He directed his gaze toward Naomi. “Sorry, but it’s the truth.”

“I understand. My dad is Gene Smith.”

The three men studied her with new respect.

“Then you really do understand,” Ice said.

Naomi nodded, almost grimly, which bothered me, but I tried to push that niggling of a bad feeling out of my head.

Ice turned his attention back to me. “Playing in the pros is the toughest thing you’ll ever do, but the most rewarding. Men will be separated from the boys when they step on the ice in a pro arena. You’ll need to dig deeper than you ever did in your college career. Everyone on the team is just as talented as you are. The game moves at twice the speed. It’ll come down to who wants it badly enough.”

Just like Coach Garf kept telling me. At the pro level, it was five percent talent and ninety-five percent mental.

Ice turned to Patrick for the first time. “I understand you were a top draft pick for the Sidewinders.”

Patrick nodded nervously. My brother was rarely nervous, but Ice was intimidating no matter how you looked at it. He was the best defensemen in the league, known for his stamina, toughness, and unparalleled stick handling.

“You’re good, kid. You’re both good. I suspect you two have what it takes if you want it bad enough.”

“I do,” Patrick and I said in unison.

“My boys have never shied away from hard work, just like their old man.” My father puffed up a little. Patrick rolled his eyes, and I grimaced.

Ice ignored our father but offered no further words of advice as our dinners were delivered. I dug into the best steak I’d ever had, big and juicy and cooked just right. The garlic butter on top was fucking incredible. The baked potato was loaded with sour cream and cheese, and the broccolini was fantastic. We finished the meal off with cheesecake and conversation about hockey, of course.

After dessert the Sockeyes had to get back to their hotel, and so did Naomi, Patrick, and I. Our dad disappeared into the bar, and we caught a taxi back to the hotel.

Naomi sat in the middle as a buffer between