Page 5 of Instigator

A handful of Grizzlies all live in the same building in the Financial District. Some of us carpool, and we regularly get together during our downtime. It’s surprisingly nice having so many of my teammates nearby. And it keeps Ryan and Hailey close too. Their apartment is on the thirteenth floor, and I’m on the fifteenth.

“Meeting?” My eyebrows shoot up. I still have her schedule on our shared calendar, but now that they live together, I don’t check it religiously to plan my entire life around hers.

Just three times a week instead of three times a day.

“The foundation. They had to reschedule their regular time.”

Ah. My sister’s on the board of the team’s charitable foundation. Typically, they meet midmorning, and she’s done for the day around the same time we are.

The three of us usually ride to the rink together, but since I woke up late, they left without me. It’s not a hardship to drive myself. It’s something I have to get used to, being alone.

I’m alone a lot.

Even surrounded by my teammates on road trips and at home, I’m often by myself. Truth be told, I like it that way—when I can ignore how lonely it can be. I’m not a barfly, so even though I’ll go out with the guys on occasion, I don’t have more than one drink, and I nurse it all night until it gets warm and I can discard it.

Our book club meets every few road trips. It’s an unofficial thing Henry started last season. We don’t read the same one concurrently—we pass them from one to another as we finish them—but just hang out and talk about books. It’s a way to shoot the shit without resorting to gambling or heavy drinking. A lot of hockey players tend toward obsessive personalities, and it’s easy to get in over your head with certain vices.

The team has a zero-tolerance policy for recreational drug use. We can be tested at any time—by Coach, the front office, or the league. When I was in San Diego, it was rampant in the dressing room. In Boston, however, Coach runs a tight ship, and he’s not afraid to bench someone or trade them for bad behavior.

Ryan clears his throat, forcing my attention back to the conversation at hand. “So we’ll meet at my place at two?”

Sinclair and Jenkins nod in agreement.

“Works for me,” I agree.

My best friend sits back in his chair, a grin on his face. “Awesome.”

Too bad Annie can’t join us. Given her love of baseball, I bet she’d get a kick out of hanging out with bona fide athletes.

Annie.

We’ve been gaming together for years. We started in a fantasy league that has since disbanded. The few other guys we played with have since faded away. Now it’s just me and her, and I find myself looking forward to our gaming sessions more and more.

I know Annie isn’t her real name; her gaming handle is StatisticalAnomaly, which is a little hard to say—hence the nickname. I’ve never asked for her real one, because then I’d have to tell her mine. She’s the only person I talk to who’s not connected to the team. She knows things about me I’ve never shared with anyone, not even Hailey or Ryan.

I know her. I trust her. But finding out she’s been hanging with a “celebrity” for the last seven years is not something I can just drop in her lap. The things we’ve shared with each other… I can’t afford for it to get out. Even though her job is flexible, I don’t know her financial situation, and she might decide it’s worth selling a story to a gossip rag for a few thousand dollars.

In all actuality, I don’t think she would. She’s not that type. But given that I didn’t think my ex-girlfriend would try to baby trap me with another man’s child, I’m clearly not the best judge of character.

three

. . .

Ceci

When the Boston Grizzlies invited me to join their charitable foundation’s board four seasons ago, I jumped at the chance. Sure, they probably intended it to be more of a publicity stunt than anything else—Latina tech billionaire supports hockey, look how diverse and progressive we are!—but they didn’t realize I’m a total sports nut.

Unfortunately, I have zero athletic ability. My exercise routine consists of regular Pilates and yoga, with the occasional hike in good weather. And if I didn’t have a whole host of family health issues in my medical chart, I wouldn’t do it at all.

My dad died of a heart attack far too young. My mom had two strokes, even though it was eventually an infection after a routine colonoscopy that got her in the end. My sister had skin cancer—easily removed in one fell swoop. My brother is a type 1 diabetic. I’ve already got ADHD, am battling perimenopause, and have general executive-functioning issues.

I have no fucking clue how I built a multibillion-dollar business without stimulants. Well, I do. I self-medicated with caffeine and sugar, worked about eighty hours a week, and never took time to myself. Didn’t exercise. Barely slept. I poured my entire being into work, and my health suffered the consequences.

In the last few years since selling the business, I’ve lost close to a hundred and fifty pounds to be at a healthy weight for the first time since undergrad. I’ve prioritized my health, both physical and mental. Focused on friendships, building up the connections I had let flounder for far too long.

It’s only been in the last couple of months since we started the new research venture that I’ve enforced strict boundaries around work. I won’t make the same mistakes this time.

And I’m making sure I have time to continue my other charitable work. I’m on the board of two other nonprofits and my friend Colton’s tech company. That alone keeps me busy.