Play With Me (Playing for Keeps #2)

“I don’t think checking in and saying hi would be bugging her. You’d be letting her know you’re thinking of her.”


I can’t stop thinking of her. My mind hasn’t shut off since Jennie walked out of here twenty-four hours ago. The problem is not one single thought is coherent. Everything is a jumbled mess of what if’s, one fear that leads to another, until I’m wandering down a dark road wondering what life looks like with her in Toronto. I can’t see much, other than it being a cold, bleak future I don’t want.

“What if she leaves?” I blurt. “What if she takes the job and moves to Toronto?”

Adam and Jaxon watch me carefully.

“What if she does?” Adam finally tosses back. “You can’t follow her. Not right now, at least. And your family is moving here.”

My throat squeezes. “I don’t want to say good-bye to her.”

“Long distance is hard,” Jaxon says. “It’s hard on any normal relationship, and yours isn’t normal. You play professional hockey. When you’re not traveling, you’re bound to Vancouver. You’d see her in the off-season. Is that what you want?”

What I want is Jennie, any way I can have her. If I have to jizz on my hotel room carpet to her on FaceTime for eight-to-ten months of the year, I’ll do it.

“Maybe you could ask her to stay,” Jaxon suggests.

“I can’t.”

I want to. I want to be selfish. But I can’t. Jennie deserves this opportunity. More than wanting her to stay, I want her to follow her dreams.

And I’d never ask her to pick me over her dreams.

“Are you worried it’s not enough of a reason for her to stay?”

I’m not worried about not being enough for Jennie. Never has that woman asked me to be anything other than myself. Everything I’ve had to give has always been just right, exactly what she’s needed. The same can be said for what she gives to me. I don’t know how many ways exist to explain how two people fit together so perfectly, but I’m willing to spend the rest of my life stringing together sentences if that’s what it takes to get her to believe that this right here is enough. That she’s so goddamn enough.

“I think love is a good enough reason to do most things, but I don’t need her to stay in Vancouver for me to love her. I’m going to love her wherever she is, and I’m going to make sure she feels it.”

Because that, I think, is Jennie’s greatest struggle: not understanding that she doesn’t have to sacrifice a single piece of herself to have all the love she deserves.

Real love isn’t conditional. It’s seeing somebody for everything they are and accepting all of them. It’s knowing you’re friends first and lovers second, understanding that arguments are opportunities to know each other deeper. It’s dinner waiting in the microwave, lights left on to welcome you home safely. It’s showering together so you can kiss a little longer. It’s two a.m. secrets spilled while you’re wrapped up in each other, dancing in the kitchen, Disney movies on the couch while crying your heart out. It’s supporting dreams, growing together, and growing separately. Because when you can stand strong on your own, you can stand strong together.

If I have to love Jennie from across the country, that’s exactly what I’m going to do. And if distance isn’t going to stop me, Carter Beckett sure as hell isn’t.





He’s not going to stop me, but he’s sure as shit trying to, and he’s pissing me the fuck off while he does it.

“Andersen, you’re looking pretty good on the second line.” He circles me on his skates, stick across his hips.

“Then I should move back to first. Since, you know, that’s my spot.”

“But then where would Kyle play?”

“In his spot,” I reply through gritted teeth. “On the second line.”

“I agree,” Coach interjects. “We need Andersen back up on first with you and Emmett. You three are our star lineup for a reason.” He cuts Carter off as soon as he opens his mouth. “Beckett, look me in the eyes and tell me where Andersen belongs on this team.”

Carter’s jaw tightens. “On the first line.”

“And why?”

His gaze flicks to me, and beyond all the anger, I see something else. Something vulnerable and soft. For a moment, despite his shit attitude this past week, I feel for him. “Because he’s a valuable player and an irreplaceable leader.”

“Exactly. So sort your shit and let’s play some real hockey tonight. Andersen, you’re back on first.”

“Atta boy!” Emmett claps his gloved hand to my ass. “Welcome back, baby. We missed ya.”

“Speak for yourself,” Carter grumbles, and that empathy I was hanging onto a moment ago vanishes. Jennie’s tear-streaked face floats through my mind, and something inside me snaps.

“Grow the fuck up, Beckett.”

Carter glides closer. “You got a problem, Andersen?”

“Yeah, I got a fucking problem.” I skate forward until my chest touches his. “My problem is you’re twenty-nine years old, but you’re acting like a fucking toddler who got his goddamn birthday candles blown out.”

I don’t know which one of us drops our stick and throws our gloves to the ice first.

Carter grips a fistful of my jersey, missing my face and getting my shoulder when he swings. “You’re fucking my sister!”

“No, I’m not!” I yank him into me, knocking his helmet off. “It’s more—”

“You said you were gonna take her to Pound Town!”

Our legs tangle as he wraps an arm around my head, and my helmet pops off as we go tumbling to the ice.

“She said it first!”

“Yeah, well now I’m gonna take you to Pound Town, and not in the fun way!”

“Too bad you’re already there,” I grunt, rolling on top of him, pinning his flailing body to the ice. My fist barely connects with his mouth as his hand covers my face. “Because I just…fucking…took you!”

“Jesus fuck,” someone mutters.

“Fucking embarrassing,” another voice adds.

“Let them work it out. They’ve gotta play together tonight.”

“I’ve got a hundred on Beckett. He’s in it for blood. Andersen fucked his sister.”

“I’ll take that bet. You gotta be fucked up to test Beckett like that. I think Andersen’s got it in him.”

Carter’s eyes darken, his battle cry echoing across the ice as he rolls on top of me. “You’re fucking my sister!”

“I fucking love her!”

His mouth pops open as his grip on my jersey loosens. “What?”

I karate chop his wrists, gulping down air. “I said I fucking love her, okay?”

He sits up but doesn’t get off me. “But I thought—”

“Because you don’t fucking listen!” I scoop up a glove and chuck it at his face. “It’s not about you, Carter! This was about me and her finding each other!”

“But she’s my sister. You can’t—”

“Why not? You don’t think I’m good enough for her?”

“What? No, I—” His eyes shine with guilt. He shakes his head. “I didn’t say that.”

“Then what is it? Because all you wanted was for Olivia to give you a chance, and now you’re not giving me one.”

“You might…you might…” His chest rises and falls rapidly, a speckle of blood pooling in the center of his bottom lip. “You might hurt her!”

Another damn glove to the face. “You’re the one hurting her right now, Carter! She can’t handle you cutting her out like this. And why should she have to? You’re her brother. Hasn’t she lost enough in her life?”

Carter’s throat bobs, and that guilt in his eyes starts to drown them.

“She’s spent her life feeling overshadowed by you, thinking all she had to offer anyone was being Carter Beckett’s little sister. She was finally realizing she had people in her life who wanted to be there for her, not for you. She found love, after everything she’s gone through, all the fucking heartache, and what do you do? You leave her. You tell her she can’t have it.”

Becka Mack's books

cripts.js">