Free Between a Jock and a Hard Place by Mona Ingram

something about the way he said it that made her wonder if there was more to the story than he was letting on. She replaced the photo and picked up another. “This is a sweet picture.” It was a photo of a boy taken from the back. He was sitting hunched over on a rugged bench, tying up his skates. In the background, a few children skated on a frozen pond.
    He touched the glass, as though trying to connect with the scene. “That’s me,” he said with a grin. “I still go back there sometimes and sit on that bench. When things get crazy in this job of mine, it helps to get my head straight.” He pointed to a small figure on the ice. “That’s Cassie, my sister. She’s a fierce one.”
    “Do you have any other pictures of her?”
    “No. She hates to have her picture taken.” He flipped the sandwiches.
    “Too bad. I saw one there that must be your Mom and Dad. They look like nice people.”
    “They are. The best.” He gestured toward a coffee table in the living room. “Let’s sit over there and eat. It’s much more comfortable.”
    She sat yoga position on the comfortable chesterfield and took a bite of her sandwich. “This is good,” she said, and took another bite. “I guess you don’t do much cooking.”
    “Not during the season.” His gaze drifted out over the North Shore mountains. “We’re leaving tonight.”
    “You are?”
    He seemed surprised. “I forget that you don’t follow us the way most people do. Conference finals begin tomorrow in San Jose.”
    “You fly tonight and play tomorrow? Isn’t that a tight schedule?”
    “Not really. Coach thought it was more important to let us have a day off.” He gave her a wry smile. “Most of the day, anyway. And the flight isn’t long.”
    “What time do you leave?” She was missing him already.
    He checked his watch. “In four hours. I’m already packed.”
    “I don’t know what to say. I’ll miss you.”
    He gave her a look that curled her toes. “Just keep on missing me. We come back late on Friday night after the second game.”
    “That won’t be hard.” She swallowed. “The missing you part.”
    “I’m not sure what our schedule’s going to look like when we get back. Depends on how well we do against San Jose, I suppose.”
    “You have my number.”
    “I’ll call you.” His gaze held hers. “You can count on it.”

Chapter Eight
     
    “Where have you been?” Zoey sounded almost frantic. “I’ll been trying to reach you for days.”
    “I’ve told you a million times not to exaggerate.”
    Zoey laughed, but then she always laughed at this tired old joke. “Seriously, kiddo, where have you been?”
    Claire didn’t know where to start. Especially since she had an idea what her friend’s reaction was going to be. Might as well get it over.
    “Remember John, the fellow I told you I met?”
    “Mister Bouquet of Flowers?”
    “Yeah. Well it turns out that most people know him by Jack. It’s sort of another name for John.”
    “I know that! Get on with it.”
    “Well, it’s Jack Logan.”
    “Shut Up!!!”
    “No, really. He plays for the Canucks.”
    “I know that, you idiot. Everybody knows that.” There was a moment’s silence. “Is this some sort of a joke?”
    “No, Zoey. We saw each other on Monday and again yesterday. He even met Cam at the hospital.”
    “What was he doing at the hospital? He’s not sick, is he? No, never mind, he wouldn’t go to the hospital if he was sick. They have their own doctors. God, Claire. I just can’t believe it.”
    Claire laughed. “Believe it. I guess I’ll have to start paying attention to the games, huh?”
    “Only you could say something like that. What did he say about tonight’s game? Are the Canucks going to win?”
    “We didn’t really talk about the series that much. I just know they’re playing in San Jose.”
    “We’re going to have to get you up to speed on all of this.” She stopped abruptly. “Wait a minute. Back to what you said about