CHAPTER FIVEThis is such bullshit. Ty sat in the owner’s suite above the other seats in the arena. He adjusted his tie; it chafed the back of his neck. Rubbing the irritated skin, he shifted in his seat. He hated being up here, overlooking the ice and his teammates. He should be out there with them. There was no way they were going to beat St. Louis without him. They needed him.
Sitting him tonight was a stupid idea. What the hell were they thinking?
The PR team told the media that he was ill and would be back for the next game. He still had the headache of the century, so they weren’t completely wrong. The bar wouldn’t serve him, and he was forced to drink bottled water. What he wouldn’t do for a beer; it would taste great right about now. Maybe I could talk them into a jack and coke at
