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career?”
    “Kinda like what these little articles are doing for mine?”
    “Hey, I’m sorry about that. But if you didn’t want people to know about your drug problem, maybe you should’ve stayed clean.”
    “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “If that’s true, it’s because you lied to me. You should’ve told me that you’re an addict. And that you had a girlfriend for that matter.”
    “That’s what you think?”
    “Please don’t lie to me, Finn. You OD and end up in the hospital. Then a woman shows up calling me Roadkill, whatever that means, and barks orders at anyone within ear shot.”
    “Not that I owe you an explanation after the shit you pulled, but she’s an ex girlfriend. She was called in because apparently I haven’t got her off all my emergency contact lists.”
    “So, you’ve been here often?”
    “A few times.”
    “I don’t get it.”
    “Get what?”
    “Why you’d throw away your life, your career to get high or stoned or tweaked out or whatever it is you get off on.”
    “You are going to feel so stupid in a minute.”
    “How could I possibly feel stupid? You are the one fucking up your life.”
    “I’m not an addict, Casey.”
    “Right, you can quit whenever you want, I’m sure.”
    “Aren’t reporters supposed to listen more than they talk? No wonder you’re not getting anywhere.”
    His words sucked all the air from my lungs. They hurt more than I’d ever let on.

Chapter 8

    FACEOFF (n.):
    One player from each team attempts to gain control of the puck after an official drops it onto a face-off spot on the ice.

    Finn

    Casey’s face dropped the second the words left my lips. I hurt her.
    Damn straight.
    She deserved it. She crushed me.
    But after you see the worst in people – like I did from the agents, team owners, PR people, friends, and acquaintances who wanted a piece of me at one time or another – nothing fazed you anymore.
    “Well, then,” she glared at me. “Talk.”
    The freaking balls on this girl!
    The only reason I didn’t let Dr. Hart bring in security and haul her little ass away was because I enjoyed competition … and revenge. I was not going to let this green, no-name reporter get the best of me.
    Plus, I couldn’t help it. Despite how ridiculous it was, she made me laugh.
    Sneaking into the hospital trying to get dirt on me, with her little red sneakers peeking out under the curtain. It was fucking hilarious. And hell, I needed some humor.
    Yeah, there were plenty of other reasons I couldn’t let her go, but I wasn’t willing to address any of them.
    “Are you serious right now?” I asked her. “Why should I tell you anything?”
    Casey swallowed, and I could sense she wondered the same thing. This was new territory for her. She wasn’t callous or unethical, but she was driven.
    I remember being that hungry. That passionate about what I wanted to do with my life. I would’ve sold out my mother for a chance to play hockey. Not really, but it was close.
    Little did Casey know that the moves she made right now – and just how far she was willing to take this – would determine her path long into the future.
    I’d been there – as cliché as it sounded – standing at the crossroads. I wondered if she understood that.
    Still, this was me she was trying to destroy in the process, and she would have to pay for that.
    “You should talk to me,” she began. “Because I’ll give you a chance to tell your side of the story on-air.”
    It was a good angle she played. Not bad, Casey. Not bad at all.
    Truthfully, I wasn’t all that worried about the drugs storyline. That type of news hit the airwaves daily – happened all the time. It was also something I could quickly dismiss if I wanted to. A public drug screen was all it’d take. But actually, this was a blessing in disguise. Being an addict was definitely more acceptable than my real issues – especially in the world of sports. Casey might have actually done me a