Page 57 of Scoring Lessons

“For a girl you claim not to like, you sure have gone out of your way for her.” She said the words with so much conviction, it was like the universe took it into its own hands to mock me.

Though I had an amazing time the other night, it had been incredibly stupid to involve myself this much in Olivia’s love life. But everything was said and done, and now I had to smile through the pain until she was ready to sleep with another man, even though I would have been a willing participant if she’d let me (and if the circumstances weren’t so fucked).

“Couldn’t you be like a normal mother and credit yourself for raising a good son instead of thinking this is a perfect romance movie plot? I don’t do relationships, Mom,” I said, followed by a tired sigh. “I don’t have time for them.”

Even if I wanted to be in one, there were better guys out there.

Who in their right mind would date someone who was weak-minded?

Who would date the guy who spent most of the time doubting himself, like it was his own personal purgatory? I was unstable and in no position to be with someone. I’d only bring them down.

Sex without attachments was the easy way out.

I wasn’t boyfriend or husband material. It was why women who approached me were looking for something casual. Who could blame them? I was sure they saw my red flags flying around like warning signs. I was a temporary fling. A pretty face and a good fuck. Nothing more.

She considered my words and squeezed my hand gently. “I did raise a good son, and I brag about you all the time. But I can also hope for you to find the kind of love people write about.”

I furrowed my brows. “That’s only fiction, Mom. That kind of love doesn’t exist.”

“We have to believe it does. Otherwise, what’s the point, kid?” She leaned back in her chair and crossed one leg over the other. “Besides, you’re too young to be so pessimistic.”

I pursed my lips in doubt. “I don’t know about young.”

“Oh, honey, no.” She shook her head adamantly. “You are a young, handsome man, and any woman would be lucky to have you.”

I stifled a laugh. “You’re only saying that because you’re my mother.”

She settled me with an Are you dumb? look, pulling a laugh out of me. “Boy, I’ve been in this world long enough to know my son is a…” She tilted her head as she rested her tongue against the inside of her cheek, trying to find the words. “What do you kids call it these days? A fuckboy?”

The water I was trying to drink got lodged in my throat, and I patted my chest twice as I coughed. “What the hell?”

“I think it’s a much better word than womanizer, if you ask me. More fun. Plus, it has the word f⁠—”

The chair groaned when I stood and grabbed my plate in record time. “I think that’s enough hanging out for today. I’m going to do the dishes and get out of here before you start giving me the safe sex talk.”

FIFTEEN

OLIVIA

STACKING GOOD KARMA POINTS NEVER HURT ANYONE.

The game against the Florida Bay Kings went horribly, and that was putting it mildly.

The first line had been struggling as of late, because even though Patrick Sullivan had a future in this sport, he had a lot of growing up to do. He wanted the glory all to himself—as a typical rookie prodigy always did—and cost the team a lot of mistakes.

A 2-5 loss was rough, but it was all the team could manage to do with the amount of mistakes that kept piling up.

Wesley, on the other hand, was finding his groove with Kendall and the rookie whose name I couldn’t remember. He brought the experience the other two players lacked since they were still so young.

Which was why I couldn’t, for the life of me, understand what Coach Sloane was thinking. Wesley clearly deserved a star position. The way he moved around the ice and handled his stick and puck was like they were a part of his body. He may not have been born with the pedigree some of these players had, but he was his own kind of star. The one I always believed he could be.

I’d been following Wesley’s career since he got drafted. I remembered it like it was yesterday, the night he debuted with Detroit. Since then, I’d made it a point to watch every single one of his games. Even when my schedule wouldn’t allow it, I’d go back and watch the recorded version. No one knew—not even my brother. I liked the thought of supporting him even if it was in silence. I witnessed firsthand all he had sacrificed to make it work. Hockey didn’t come naturally for the average player. It took hard work and dedication, and Wesley may have been a ball of pent-up energy and my brother’s annoying best friend most of the time, but there was no denying how much he deserved a spot in the league with a top team.

I only hoped the Strikers realized the talent they were at risk of losing before it was too late.

After the game, a few coworkers invited me to the hotel’s bar to eat and hang out, but I opted for some room service and comfortable pajamas so I could continue reading my book. Except…I’d been so distracted reading that I skipped ordering food altogether.

Damn Kennedy and her good taste in books. I hated her as much as I loved her for it. The book was full of cliché moments that made my eyes roll from time to time, but I loved the premise of it.