Chapter 2

When it came time for college, Matt applied only to northern schools that had ice hockey programs and with the help of his coaches, managed to score a scholarship to the University of Michigan. He worked his ass off, spending every hour in the workout room to build up his muscles and his strength.

His focus was so intent on playing, his obsession and single-minded determination so strong, he had no room in his life for anything else. Just The Game, always capitalized like that in his mind. Again, as he thought about it now, unbelievable arrogance.

When he was drafted he was sure he was on his way to a championship team and The Cup. But unfortunately life doesn't always go the way you wanted it to. Somehow after a quick start, he fell just short of first team status. He spent so many years in the minors he wondered if he'd ever get to realize his dream. Would he, in the end, be left with nothing? For a while there the prospect actually gave him a scare, but he refused to give up.

Off season was always spent on conditioning and training. Twice teams he was with called him up, only to send him down again. When he was traded to the Cajun Rage and given a starting job he was sure he'd died and gone to heaven. All the years of discipline and sacrifice were worth it. They'd finally paid off.

Other teammates became engaged, got married, had children. Of course he dated like everyone else. A lot, actually, because casual was all he did. But now he couldn't even remember their names. There was no way anyone was going to interrupt his focus on making it big, on fighting his way out of the farm team system, on making a team that had a chance of winning The Cup. Later he'd have plenty of time to think about a real relationship. Well, now it was later and here he was, out of hockey and about as alone as anyone could be. With no one to blame but himself.

He swallowed a sigh and rubbed his forehead, pushing back the beginnings of a headache. He couldn't sit here in the parking lot forever. His agent had asked to meet with him. Some of his sponsors were interested in continuing the relationship if they could connect it to something worthwhile. Requests for interviews were still coming in and they needed to assess them. But he couldn't muster up any interest in talking about that stuff now. Not when his life was in such turmoil.

He guessed he'd go home to his apartment. He had a townhouse in San Antonio, but when The Rage signed him he'd found an apartment in the French Quarter, thinking it would be so cool to live in that area. Most times it was, although some nights the raucous revelry just got to him. Especially now, when he had nothing to celebrate.

He really didn't want to hang around the Crescent City, not when he'd be by himself. And strangely, none of the local women he'd dated appealed to him. His teammates had all come to see him in the hospital, but then it was time for them to split back to their own lives. The kind of life he'd turned his back on in his search for fame and glory. If not for his bum knee he'd kick his own ass.

Going out alone wasn't an option, either. Every bar was still celebrating The Cup victory. Banners flew everywhere from balconies and overhangs and across buildings. It was enough to make him go blind.

Go home.

He could almost hear the voice whispering in his ear, and he was sure it didn't mean here in the Quarter.

He definitely needed to mend some fences with his family. Looking back he could see how badly he'd neglected them over the years. Even when the came to some of his games, he barely took time to spend with them. The minute one game ended he was fixated on the next. They had all insisted on flying to New Orleans that first week when he had his surgery, including his sister, Brenna. But it was hard to be pleasant when his entire world had shattered. He'd given his whole life to it and the way he saw it, the game had turned on him. All he could see was the ruins of his future and a man who had lost his purpose in life. He'd sacrificed everything for this, to become a success, and what was he left with?

He was beginning to think The Cup was small consolation.

Brenna had been so irritated with him at the hospital she just threw up her hands at his self-pitying attitude. "You're nothing but a small, petulant child," she snapped. "You'd better pull up your b ig boy pants so you don't keep tripping on them."

"What the hell do you know?" he'd raged.

"I know I see a man who is so selfish and immature that he shut out everyone and everything else. That he focused on a particular goal to the exclusion of everything and everyone else. That the longer it took to get there, the more of a pain in the ass he became. And now that he's got that precious cup, Fate saw fit to send him a message in the form of a career-ending injury to tell him there were other things in life."

"You're not sitting where I am," he snapped.

"And thank the lord for that. Other athletes have full, productive lives and still succeed in their careers. But you were so involved you shut out friends and family and walked away from the best woman in the world. Are you telling me there's nothing else to you except that?"

"You don't understand."

"You're hopeless," she told him. "How did you turn out to be such a selfish person?"

Selfish?

"Just shut up, will you?"